Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Standing in front of the claw-foot mirror as I applied my lipstick, I heard Howard shouting at Edwin as he walked through the house. Popping my lips and closing the tube, I tossed it into my bag before doing a quick spin, watching the layers of fabric bloom around me. I flattened the maroon dress skirt and wiggled the matching belt into place before tucking a curl back into the pin it had come loose from.

"Jarvis, you know how important this Expo is to me! I can't afford to have anything go wrong! I think the flying car prototype will be a hit!" he exclaimed, speed-walking past my door with Edwin trailing behind.

"Yes, sir, I think those in attendance will find it quite incredible."

"Hey Howard, what do you think they'll find more interesting? The prototype, or the number of women you're planning to have on stage?" I asked, my arms crossed while leaning on the door frame. My freshly colored lips turned up in a smirk as I slightly tilted my head; my brother ceased walking and spun on his heels to face me.

I raised my eyebrows as he glared at me before smirking himself. "Oh c'mon, Y/N, don't act like you're not trying to impress a man or two tonight. When was the last time you wore lipstick?"

"What's wrong with looking presentable for the first night of the Expo? Plus, I'm not going to be on stage with you. I have other business to attend to."

With that, I started walking down the hall as Howard and Edwin stood in the middle. "Let's get going before we're late. I'd hate for us to get a bad parking spot," I said, walking past them toward the garage, my heels clicking against the tile.

The energy of the Expo was immaculate. Tons of people flooded the grounds as they looked into the future of technology. A monorail raced above the pedestrians walking below, countless inventions were coming to life in the scattered tents, mothers bought their children hotdogs and cotton candy, and men lined up outside of the U.S. Army recruitment tent to enlist in World War II.

Standing on the side of the main stage, the woman on the overhead system kicked me out of my thoughts. "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!" boomed as Howard zoomed past me in his full suit and top hat onto the stage. As he kissed one of the showgirls, I rolled my eyes and took that as a sign to make my way toward the enlistment area.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won't even have to touch the ground at all..." his voice echoed on the speakers and faded out as I walked further away.

Walking through the entryway of the pop-up enlistment site, I saw they set up a lightbox for people to stand on as they looked into a mirror that put their head on the body of a soldier. I glanced over my shoulders and saw no one was around as I stepped on it myself. Hearing the click of the lightbox go on as my pumps hit the metal, I quickly looked up to see my reflection, but only my nose and up were visible in the mirror.

"I didn't think I'd see you standing there tonight, Miss Stark," someone spoke.

Quickly stepping off the metal square and flattening my skirt, I saw my favorite colleague standing there with a soft smile on his face. I felt my cheeks warm up a bit in embarrassment as I smiled back. "Hello, Dr. Erskine," I swallowed thickly before regaining my composure and making my way over to him. "Sorry about that, I-I was just curious is all."

"No need to be sorry, my dear. You know more than anyone that I am the last to judge others for their dreams and visions." Feeling like he was reading me like a book, I cleared my throat to change the topic.

"Have you seen anyone tonight? Anyone, you know, that fits the bill, I guess you could say?"

He shook his head before answering. "I have not, unfortunately. The night is still young, though, you never know who might come through."

As Abe spoke, a young couple entered the tent. They looked to be in their mid-twenties. The man stood on the lightbox square with a big smile. His girlfriend shook her head, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him off. "C'mon, soldier..."

Following behind them was a smaller man. He had a serious look on his face, but his eyes revealed a sweet demeanor. He stood around my height, and as he stood on the lightbox, he saw precisely what I did: only his nose and up. I could have sworn I saw his shoulders droop slightly before a man came up behind him and gave him a friendly shove. I leaned on the wall as Abe and I gave them our full attention.

"Come on, you're kind of missing the point of a double date. We're taking the girls dancing," the taller one said. He wore his military dress uniform with his hat tilted slightly to the side. He was attractive but had a demeanor like Howard's – like he knew he was attractive – but that didn't stop me from looking.

"You go ahead... I'll catch up with you," the smaller one answered. Stepping into the light more, I saw he had blonde hair and kept his hands in his pants pockets.

"You're really gonna do this again?" the soldier trailed off, sounding almost defeated.

"Well, it's fair. I'm gonna try my luck—"

"As who? Steve from Ohio? They'll catch you, or worse, they'll actually take you."

"Look, I know you don't think I can do this—" the man named Steve argued.

"This isn't a back alley, Steve. It's war."

"I know it's a war."

"Oh, why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs."

"What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?"

"Yes!"

"I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky… Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me," I stared at the one named Bucky as he stood there and deadpanned his friend.

"Right, 'cause you got nothin' to prove," he replied as Steve stood silent with a straight face.

While I was consumed in their bickering, I hadn't noticed Abe walking closer to the pair. He was still further off, but closer than I was. As my eyes left my scientist friend, they landed on the soldier. His eyes locked with mine, and I felt my cheeks tinge as I was caught off-guard. His lips twitched as a small smile graced his face, and I found myself returning the expression as we held eye contact. 

"Hey, Sarge! We going dancing?" A female voice called from behind him. He blinked and turned away before responding to her.

"Yes, we are!" He turned back to face his friend and made eye contact with me as he backed away toward the steps. I smirked and looked away as his eyes found Steve again. "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you," Steve responded. The sergeant looked at me again as I stood leaning on the wall with my arms crossed and eyebrows raised before he walked back up to his friend to hug him goodbye.

"You're a punk."

"Jerk... be careful," Steve said, patting him on the back before sighing, "Don't win the war 'til I get there!"

The attractive man stood at the entrance and saluted his friend before turning on his heels and skipping down the steps. Steve stood there and watched his friend walk off into the darkness to go dancing with whoever was with them.

Abe was still standing over by Steve, kind of in the middle of the entryway. As soon as his friend left, Steve turned and began walking toward the enlistment area, passing both Abe and me on the way. As he walked past, he kept his gaze forward like the determined man he seemed to be, and I focused my eyes behind him to see Abe turn on his heels as well.

"Y/N, I think I may have found our needle in the haystack," the doctor said with a glimmer of hope in his eye. Doctor Erskine is a brilliant man, and out of all the people I've seen him consider, there was something different about this one.

I nodded before responding, "Then, by all means, let's go check him out."

As the night ended, Abe and I made our way to Howard's dressing room behind the main stage. I saw Edwin standing outside as we rounded the corner; his head snapped toward us. He quickly knocked on the door three times, and almost on cue, I heard an enormous amount of scuffling and shuffling as we approached the room.

After waiting about a minute, the door flung open, and the showgirl my brother had kissed earlier in the night exited the room. Her lipstick was smeared, and she had a few holes in her stockings. As she smiled at Howard, she turned toward the door and looked at me, her eyes widening.

"Oh, my gosh! Ma'am, I'm sorry..." she exclaimed, "You didn't say you had a lady!" The girl whisper-yelled at Howard.

"He doesn't; I'm his sister," I said dryly while walking past her and into his room. Erskine followed right behind me as Edwin waved the woman off. In the room, Howard sat in his suit still, but his hair was rather disheveled.

Dr. Erskine tossed the brown folder onto the coffee table before him and gave my brother a close-lipped smile. Howard looked at the folder, up at Abe, then at me, and back to the folder, his eyes widening each time.

"Really?" That was all he managed to get out before standing up in excitement.

"His name is Steven Rogers. He's from Brooklyn. Around our ages, actually," I said as Howard started to pace the room.

"This is fantastic, this is... amazing!"

"Indeed it is, Mr. Stark," Abe began, "He's a determined young man. He tried to enlist five times... five—"

"Before Erskine goes on and on about Stevie-Boy like he has been for the past half hour," I interjected, smirking at Abe, who only held his hands up in surrender with a smile. "I'm gonna give you the rundown."

Howard picked up the file and nodded as I continued, "He's being picked up for training tomorrow morning at Port Authority. He’ll be bussed to Camp Lehigh along with the other Project Rebirth candidates and should be there by around 9 a.m. Abe and I called Phillips to let them know they're all coming. But this Steve guy, man, I really think he's it."

Howard’s eyebrows scrunched together as he looked over the file. "Y/N/N, the guy is only 5'4", and he's asthmatic!" He closed the folder and held it in his hands while looking up at me. "You really think he's the one?"

Erskine chuckled as I gave Howard a ‘really?’ look. "Howard, trust me on this one. Just wait until you meet him."

"Well, alright," he said as he looked down at his watch. "It's already late as hell, anyway. You two better get some rest since you're heading down to Lehigh too."

"Ah, my dear brother, you are correct," I said matter-of-factly. "Dr. Erskine, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Howard, I won't wait up," I said, hugging him goodbye and waving to Abe as Edwin followed me out to the car.

As I lay in bed, all I could think about was going to Camp Lehigh tomorrow. The moonlight shone through the curtains as the June summer sky lit up with stars. The anticipation was somewhat intoxicating, knowing that I would be directly involved with this project outside of just being with Abe in the lab.

Howard and I usually worked on projects together, but it was never official. I would help him when he was stumped, fix his math or formulas, and give him input. This project was my first direct collaboration with the SSR, and with it being months in the making, I've never been so excited yet so nervous at the same time. I felt excitement in my stomach at the thought of seeing Peggy again, unable to recall the last time I had seen one of my closest friends. I was nervous that my name was going to be on this project, something that could alter how countries and people defend themselves until the end of time. 

Oddly enough, I also couldn’t shake the memory of Steve’s sergeant friend from tonight. Even though he was on a double date, I couldn’t help but look at him. I admired how he expressed his concern for his friend, even if their bickering was in a crowded public place.

Rolling onto my side, my back to the bright windows, I tried to settle my nonstop thoughts and butterflies before forcing myself to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

As Erskine and I barreled down the dirt road leading up to the training camp, I enjoyed the wind blowing through my hair. The radio became more static as we drove through the middle of nowhere New Jersey before picking up the camp's signal. The watch on my wrist read 8:45, which meant the bus full of recruits would be arriving in at least fifteen minutes.

Pulling up to the main building, I saw Colonel Phillips standing outside as if he were waiting for us instead of the bus full of candidates. Stepping out of the car, I removed the sunglasses from my face and walked up to him.

"Long time no see, Stark," he said, extending his hand.

"Could say the same for you, Colonel—" I started as I shook his hand.

"Oh, please... don’t call me that; you’re not one of my men," he said with a slight smile, causing me to crack one as well. As Erskine walked up next to me, Phillips shook his hand and waved for us to come in as a group of men jogged past the building to their superior’s count.

Walking down the long hallway, we made our way to one of the larger conference rooms. Passing another room on the way, a familiar voice found its way into the hall. Peeking in, I saw that front and center stood none other than one of my best friends, giving orders to all of the suited-up men sitting before her.

"Now, I don’t want to hear any complaints through the grapevine about this, especially from you, Robert," Peggy said sternly as her eyes landed on someone, who I assumed was Robert, making him avert his eyes and sink into his chair a bit. "You’ll all hear from Colonel Phillips once the men have arrived and moved their belongings into the barracks. Dismissed."

As the men filed out of the room, I leaned on the door frame and gave it a little knock. "If I have any complaints, should I go straight to you or pass them on to Robert?"

As Peggy heard my voice, her head shot up from the scattered papers in front of her. "Oh my goodness gracious, you’re early!" She made her way over to me, wrapping me in the tightest hug.

"You say early; I say on time... To be honest, I think my excitement has fueled my punctuality."

"You and your brother do march to the beat of your own drums," she sassed as I playfully hit her arm. We turned and walked down the hallway together to the conference room, where Phillips and Erskine stood in front of a corkboard.

On the board were pinned-up headshots of every man being considered for Project Rebirth. There were twenty-five of them, and I knew that by the end of the day, we’d have maybe six or seven real candidates. Glancing at all of the faces, my eyes landed on Steve. Seeing his small, blonde self in the photo had me even more excited to start the selection process. I do feel a bit biased, but something in my gut tells me he’s our guy. Steve Rogers is our Project Rebirth.

"Recruits! Attention!" Peggy yelled as I followed behind her in my civilian attire, definitely not fit for a military camp. My skirt lightly swished back and forth as we walked over to the line of men, the royal blue standing out amidst the dark olive green of their uniforms.

"Gentlemen, I'm Agent Carter. I supervise all operations for this division."

"Aye, what's with the accent, Queen Victoria? Thought I was signin' up for the U.S. Army," one of the men in front of us asked. I tried to censor my facial expression as Peggy stood in front of the man.

"What's your name, soldier?"

"Gilmore Hodge, Your Majesty."

"Step forward, Hodge," she instructed as the man smirked at his buddies to his left and right. I began handing out paperwork with some of the fully enlisted soldiers trying to make myself useful so I don't get oogled next. Picking up a blank packet from the box, I handed it to no one other than Steve, who seemed to be more focused on Peggy and the buffoon than anything else.

"Hmm, we gonna wrestle?" he asked with a smirk. "’Cause I got a few moves I know you'll like."

Almost instantly, Peggy punched that smirk right off his face, knocking him to the ground. Steve and I both chuckled and looked at each other, but I quickly regained my composure as Phillips called out to Peggy.

"Agent Carter!" the deep voice bellowed as the Jeep engine shut off.

"Colonel Phillips," she replied, smoothing out her suit.

"I can see you're breaking in the candidates. That’s good," he said, walking over to Hodge. "Get your ass out of that dirt and stand on that line of attention until somebody comes and tells you what to do."

"Yes, sir!" Hodge responded while standing up straight and sniffling away the pain from Peggy's fist. Phillips took a deep breath and I walked over to where Abe was standing after giving papers back to the other soldier.

"General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons but they are won by men. We are going to win this war because we have the best... men," he paused, looking at Steve, then over to me and Erskine, who gave him a tiny shrug before he continued, "and because they are going to get better, much better."

Phillips went on to boast about the SSR, its purpose, and how this week would determine who would be the best man to "personally escort Adolf Hitler through the gates of hell." As he finished his speech, he dismissed the candidates, who headed off to whatever training the SSR had planned for their first day.

The Colonel walked in front of Erskine and me before hopping back into the Jeep. "Did you two seriously recruit a high school sophomore into the United States Army?" I looked at Erskine and swallowed hard before responding.

"Rogers is twenty-five, sir," I said, as Phillips looked me dead in the face before taking a deep breath and instructing the Major with him to drive away.

I gave a half-hearted smile to Erskine and walked back over to where Peggy stood waiting for me. She smiled as we began walking back towards the main building of the base.

"So, tell me, Y/N, what's new and exciting? I haven’t heard anything from you besides research and test-related conversation in the longest."

"Well, I don't know about new and exciting, it's really the same old stuff," I shared. "Columbia is already asking for donations and grants even though I was hooded a mere two months ago, all of my free time is spent in the lab or the garage, and I've had to attend a couple of galas with Howard to show face."

"A gala where Joe DiMaggio was in attendance though," Peggy added, her eyebrows raised.

"Ah, so you saw the photo of us chatting in one of the papers," I breathed out. She nodded with a smile as I chuckled, "But really, Peg, nothing much is new."

"How's training going?" she asked with a pause. I glanced over at her, not surprised that she remembered I had begun physical training over a year ago to keep myself and those close to me safe. With the craziness of a depression and a world war, nothing is ever off the table.

"Okay, well, my self-defense has greatly improved since I last saw you," I divulged, "and I've become much better with short-range shooting, though I still favor long-range drills."

"Well, we’ll have to spar sometime. I haven’t had a decent partner in ages," Peggy replied with a smile. "But look at you—the Stark beauty, brains, and brawn."

"Oh, please," I responded, rolling my eyes as I nudged her in the arm. "But what about you, huh? What's going on in the life of Peggy Carter? Any dashing men or—"

"Oh, shut it! You know not a single one of these military buffoons is worth my time," she said, cutting me off. I raised my eyebrows and smiled, about to rebut her until I heard my name being called.

I looked over in the direction of Dr. Erskine, who had somehow made it back to the main building before Peggy and me, as he stood there waving.

"Well, duty calls," I said to Peggy as we hugged goodbye. "I’ll see you later? I'm not finished grilling you for life updates."

"Okay, yes, I know. Go off and do whatever it is you geniuses do."

I laughed and walked over to Erskine before making our way to observe the recruits as they began their training.

Over the next few days, Abe and I observed and took notes on the candidates for Project Rebirth. We kept all of them training together, even those no longer being considered—and I still had hope in Steve Rogers.

We watched him struggle with the rope wall, and get stuck crawling through the mud with a rifle, and Erskine noted that he organized the many books he brought with him while the other men roughhoused or tidied up the barracks. Physically, it didn’t seem too promising, but this guy had a great head on his shoulders.

On a sunny Wednesday morning, I sat in the driver’s seat of one of the Jeeps as Peggy and I headed toward the camp’s flagpole, which marked the halfway point of the recruits’ morning jogging path.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” she said, flipping through the pages of her notepad. “You’re usually talking my ear off by now.”

“I’ve been up until 2 a.m. with Abe working on any last-minute tweaks to the serum’s formula for the past three nights,” I replied before yawning, accidentally hitting a pothole. “Then I was woken up by the lovely 5 a.m. trumpets this morning when I thought I had until at least 7:30.”

“You and that brain of yours...” she trailed off. “At least you still look good, though. The sunglasses really pull the look together.”

I looked over at her as I parked the Jeep and pulled down my glasses to make eye contact, the frame resting on the bridge of my nose. “Peg, if I didn’t need these and some eye makeup to avoid looking like a walking corpse, I wouldn’t have.”

Peggy chuckled and scribbled something in her notepad as we heard a husky voice yell, “Pick up the pace, ladies!”

“What’s that supposed to mean...” I muttered to myself as Peggy and I turned to see about a dozen of our men jogging up toward us. At the end of the group was Steve, trailing behind. At the officer’s command, they all halted in front of the Jeep and the olive-green flag waving in the breeze.

“That flag means you’re only at the halfway point! The first man to bring it to me gets a ride back with Miss Stark and Agent Carter!” As the officer mentioned our names, I felt all 24 pairs of eyes dart in our direction, then shift to the flag.

The men swarmed the metal pole, and Steve was still hunched over, catching his breath. The soldiers tried jumping up to grab it and tried climbing, but kept sliding down. The officer shouted, “Nobody’s gotten that flag in seventeen years!”

Peggy chuckled slightly as the men continued to fail, and I winced with each attempt. As the officer commanded the men to fall back in line, Steve approached the pole. Peggy was already ready to go, but I nudged her arm and nodded toward Steve as the officer began to yell at him.

She turned back around, and we watched as Steve looked at the base of the pole, and then up at the flag. He leaned down and removed the rod holding the pole up. As the white pole hit the ground and Steve grabbed the flag, I saw a smirk curl onto Peggy’s lips as she glanced at the officer.

Steve muttered a thank you and hopped into the back of the Jeep. “Ma’am,” he greeted us as I gave him a quick smile before starting the engine. Peggy held eye contact with him for a moment, and I peeked in the mirror to see him looking at her with a small smile as well.

I hit the gas as Peggy turned back around, her smile still evident. I gave her a sidelong glance, and as soon as she realized why, her expression went serious. I chuckled and glanced in the mirror at Steve, who seemed to still be catching his breath from the run.

“How you doin’, Rogers?” I asked. His head snapped in my direction, obviously not expecting to be acknowledged.

“Can’t complain, ma’am,” he answered. “I got to shower this morning – that was great – and the oatmeal was less watery than it had been the past few days.”

“You’re on the up, Steve,” I said, glancing in the rearview mirror with a smile. “And now on top of all that, you’ve managed to hitch a ride back with us.”

“Brain over brawn, hm?” Peggy chirped. I glanced at her, the pencil resting on her lips as she studied whatever was on the notepad. 

“Whatever it takes,” Steve said, a content smile forming on his face as he admired the full tree tops above us before I turned back toward the training area.

The afternoon sun beat down on the men as they did push-ups to Peggy's count. "Faster, ladies! Come on... my grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!"

Erskine and I walked with Colonel Phillips towards the group as they huffed and puffed in the grass.

"You're not seriously thinking about picking Rogers, are you?" Phillips asked.

"More than just thinking about it. He is the clear choice," Erskine responded.

"When you brought a 90-pound asthmatic onto my army base, I let it slide. I thought, 'What the hell,' maybe he'd be useful to you, like a gerbil or something. I never thought you'd pick him." As Phillips said this, I huffed in annoyance, and he glanced at me before focusing back on the men.

"Up!" Peggy commanded, and the dozen or so men jumped to their feet in position.

We stood by one of the supply trucks, and Phillips continued, "You stick a needle in that kid's arm, it'll go right through him." We all looked over at poor Steve suffering through jumping jacks. "Look at that, he's making me cry."

"Colonel, we're looking for qualities beyond the physical—" I started.

"Do you know how long it took to set up this project? All the groveling I had to do in front of Senator What's-His-Name's committees?"

"Brandt. Yes, we know. We are well aware of your efforts," Abe said.

"Then throw me a bone. Hodge passed every test we gave him. He's big. He's fast. He obeys orders. He's a soldier."

"He's a bully," I said, mumbling, "and a creep."

"You don’t win wars with niceness, Y/N," Phillips said as he walked over to the wood bin of grenades and picked one up, pulling its pin. "Grenade!" he yelled as he tossed it into the group of soldiers.

Instantly, all the men ran for cover. Some went behind the trucks, others just started to run. What we saw next shocked us all. Steve ran toward the grenade, throwing himself on top of it. Peggy started to run towards it as well but stopped in her tracks when she saw Steve curled in a ball on top of the dud.

"Get away! Get back!" he yelled from the ground. Everyone around us emerged from their hiding spots, realizing that if that grenade had been real, Steve would have just sacrificed himself for everyone.

As the men were ordered to get back in formation, Peggy looked at Steve, who was looking back at her with his eyebrows scrunched. "Is this a test?" he asked.

I stood smirking with my arms crossed next to Erskine, who had a small smile curling on his lips. He shrugged as Phillips looked down at us with annoyance and a small tinge of defeat in his eyes.

"He's still skinny," Phillips said bluntly before walking off. I turned to Dr. Erskine, smiling and nudging his arm in excitement, but he was too focused on Steve to notice or care.

Chapter Text

Camp Lehigh was comfortably quiet at night. I could hear the frogs and crickets in the woods and saw the fireflies fill the air above each building as I walked over to Steve's barrack. All of the men were still in the recreation hall, and I hadn't seen Steve there, so I figured he was probably reading. Lo and behold, I knocked on the door and saw him sitting on his bed with a book. His head snapped around to the doorway, and his shoulders relaxed when he saw it was me.

"May I?"

"Yeah," he responded as I walked over toward him. The radio was on, creating a calm environment in the room—quite a contrast to the ride we’d be taking to one of the SSR’s labs in the city tomorrow.

"Can’t sleep?" I asked as I sat across from him.

"I guess I’ve got the jitters," he responded while closing his book, and I laughed agreeing.

"Me too," I confessed, placing the bottle of schnapps beside me. I could see in his knitted eyebrows that he had something on his mind, so I waited for him to speak.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. Just one?" I raised an eyebrow, and he took a deep breath. He seemed to study my surprisingly relaxed body language before looking down at his book and then back up to me.

"Why me?"

I breathed out and ran my fingers over the label of the bottle. Why not you? I thought. As I was about to answer with much more insight than that, Erskine walked into the room.

"Ah, so all three of us have the jitters, don’t we?" he said with a reassuring smile. He came over and sat next to me, across from Steve, and picked up the bottle of schnapps I had brought. "This was a gift from me last Christmas, yes?"

I nodded before Steve asked the same question he had asked me. Abe took a deep breath and held up the bottle.

"This is from Augsburg, my city. So many people forget that the first country the Nazis invaded was their own. After the last war, my people struggled. They felt weak, they felt small. Then Hitler comes along with the marching, the big show, the flags," Erskine explained, his voice tinged with emotion as he delved into his history with Adolf and Johann Schmidt, the head of Hitler's research division, better known to the SSR as Hydra.

Abe had mentioned Schmidt to me before, how he was an absolutely brilliant scientist but was completely obsessed with being the world’s 'superior man'; so much so that he injected himself with a premature version of Abe's serum.

"...However, the serum was not ready. But more importantly, the man," he paused and looked at Steve, "the serum amplifies everything that is inside—good becomes great, bad becomes worse."

Steve swallowed hard as Abe spoke, looking down and then back up at him. Sensing his doubt, I added, "This is why you were chosen though, Steve."

Erskine smiled at me and continued, "See, a strong man who has known power all his life may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength and understands compassion."

Steve sat still on the bed and looked at us. "Thanks... I think," he responded with a small smile. I lightly blushed in embarrassment as I thought over what Abe and I had just said, but I was quickly drawn out of my thoughts when Erskine handed me an empty glass for the schnapps.

"What, did you know I'd bring something?" I asked, chuckling. Abe's kind eyes met mine as a smirk formed on his lips.

"There are few things I can count on both you and your brother for," he answered, "and one of those things is having good liquor on hand."

I rolled my eyes jokingly, hoping Steve didn't now think I was some drunkard he was trusting to help run this experiment on him. He and I held out our glasses as Abe poured the schnapps into each of them, his eyebrows meeting in thought.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, Steven, you must promise me one thing," Erskine began, as Steve raised an eyebrow. "That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man," he emphasized while pointing at Steve's heart.

Steve swirled the liquor around in his glass, took a deep breath, then held it up for a toast. "To the little guys."

As we were about to drink, Abe reached out and grabbed Steve's glass. "No, no. Wait, wait. What am I doing? You have a procedure tomorrow. No fluids."

"Alright, we'll drink it after."

"No, I don’t have a procedure tomorrow. Y/N doesn’t have a procedure tomorrow. We’ll drink it now." As Abe tossed his back, I shrugged my shoulders and did the same, and Steve smiled at us. Erskine nodded and grabbed my bottle before walking out of the room.

Placing my hands on my thighs, I looked at Steve and sighed. "Well, I’ll see you in about six hours for our lovely 4:30 am report time."

Walking toward the door, I stopped as Steve called out, "Y/N?"

"Hmm?" I responded, already standing in the doorway.

"Thank you," he said simply with a warm smile.

"Of course, blondie," I replied with a smile before closing the door behind me and stepping back out into the warm summer night.

As I walked back into my shared room with Peggy, I saw my little temporary setup on the collapsible cot. Howard would have never been able to put up with this rock-hard mattress, I thought to myself as I sat down and took off my boots.

"Howard would have never been able to put up with that bloody awful mattress," Peggy said as she walked into the room and hung her sweater on a hook.

"You know, Peg, you read my mind," I replied with a slight chuckle.

"Seriously, Y/N, I can't wrap my head around how similar yet different you two are," she said as she dabbed a cotton pad in some kind of solution and began removing her makeup. "You both are insanely smart and talented, but that man cannot get dirt under his fingernails or throw a punch to save his life."

"Not to mention he's much more in the public eye than I am," I added, laughing at her accuracy. "I'm pretty sure people only know my name; they don't even know what I look like."

Peggy glared at me with a small smile before we changed and got comfortable on our beds.

"But really, you should say that to his face tomorrow so we can see his reaction," I said, staring at the ceiling.

"I would if the circumstances were different," she started. "But the senator and a few other important men will be there, so I’d rather not embarrass or distract him."

I sighed as my mind wandered to tomorrow's events. If something went wrong, I don't know if I’d be able to forgive myself, especially if something happened to Steve.

"Y/N," Peggy said, "try to get some sleep instead of getting lost in that mind of yours. Tomorrow will go smoothly, and you’ll be remembered in history as one of the best minds of our time, and—"

"Alright, alright, don’t inflate my ego to be as big as my brother's," I said, pulling the cord on the lamp, leaving only the light from the window. "Goodnight, Peg."

"Sleep well, Y/N."

----

My eyelids threatened to shut behind my sunglasses as Peggy and I rode through the city while listening to Steve recount all the places he’d been beaten up. The three of us were crammed in the backseat with two officers up front, Steve squeezed in the middle. My head rested on my hand as my elbow was propped up on the edge between the car door and window.

“So, did you have something against running away?” Peggy asked, hesitating as she looked at Steve.

“If you start running, they’ll never let you stop,” he replied, turning his head to look out my window. “You stand up, you push back, they can’t say no forever, right?”

“I know a little of what that’s like, having every door shut in your face,” Peggy said, and Steve glanced at her before looking down at his hands.

“I guess I just don’t understand why you’d want to join the Army if you’re a beautiful dame—”

Suddenly, I became more awake as Steve started to stutter, his nervous words like caffeine.

“Or a beaut— a woman, an Agent. Not a dame. You are beautiful but—”

“You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” Peggy asked, her disbelief evident.

“I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with one,” Steve said, a hint of humor in his tone before sounding more somber. “Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with someone they might step on.”

“You must’ve danced…” Peggy began.

“Well, asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying. And the past few years, it just didn’t seem to matter that much. I figured I’d wait.”

“For what?” Peggy asked.

“The right partner,” Steve responded as we pulled up to the front of Brooklyn Antiques.

“Alright, blondie,” I said, both of them jumping at the sudden sound of my voice. “This way, follow me.” 

I stepped out of the car as if my life depended on it, Steve and Peggy following behind. As we approached the shop, I thought about how they probably assumed I had been asleep for the entire conversation. A little bit of me wished I was, but then I wouldn’t have heard Steve massacre his conversation with Peg.

Inside, Peggy said the secret phrase to the old woman behind the counter. Steve followed us as we walked to the back, where the fake bookcase swung open to reveal a few MPs in the hall. We proceeded toward the double doors, and the overpowering mixture of colognes from the men in attendance made me silently gag.

As we walked through the doors and stood on the balcony, the scientists below paused, their eyes on Steve as he assessed the room and the people before following Peggy and me down the stairs.

The two of them walked over to Erskine, and I went to Howard. “The bags under your eyes look great, sister,” he said, checking the levels on the machine.

“And that hickey looks fantastic on your neck, brother,” I sassed back, causing his eyes to shoot up to me and his hands to fly to his neck.

“Oh Jesus, I told her not to leave any marks…” he trailed off in a panic.

“Christ, Howard, I’m kidding,” I said as he visibly relaxed. “I’m going to see if Steve is ready.”

I made my way over as Abe called out to Howard, “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

“Levels are at 100%. We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we’re ready… ready as we’ll ever be,” Howard responded, his eyes scanning the control board again.

Glancing down at Steve, I saw nervous sweat forming on his forehead. Erskine directed Peggy to the booth, and they exchanged reassuring looks before she made her way up the steps.

“You’re gonna do great,” I whispered with a smile. Steve gave me a soft nod as the nurses and other scientists began preparing everything. Erskine started his introduction on the microphone, and I walked back toward my brother.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Steve receiving a shot, his face scrunching up. “That wasn’t so bad,” he said with relief.

“That was penicillin,” Erskine replied. “Serum infusion beginning in…”

As I heard his countdown, I started flipping switches and stabilizing the electricity while Howard observed the levels. Steve grunted as his eyes went from squeezed shut to wide open.

“Now, Miss Stark,” Abe instructed as I pulled the lever to turn on the vita-ray machine. The machine moved up and closed, and one of the men attached the oxygen line.

“Steven? Can you hear me?” Abe asked, tapping the metal.

“It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?”

“We will proceed,” Abe said as Howard nodded. Howard went over and turned a knob before putting on protective lenses. He pulled another pair from his pocket and handed them to me.

As Howard turned the small wheel to raise the vita-ray level, the room got brighter and brighter. When he reached 70%, Steve’s screams grew louder. Erskine ran over, banging on the metal and yelling Steve’s name, while Peggy, on the balcony, yelled to shut down the machine.

“Kill the reactor, Stark! Turn it off! Kill it!” Abe yelled as Howard slid over to the knob. Before he could touch it, Steve yelled from the machine.

“NO! DON’T! I CAN DO THIS!” Howard and I exchanged a dumbfounded glance, but he turned the wheel up to eighty, then ninety, then one hundred.

As it hit the maximum, the electricity hummed through the room. Almost instantly, all the machinery began to spark, and the vita-ray machine powered down. The whole room fell into silence.

“Y/N!” Abe yelled as I started to run over. Before I could take two steps, the vita-ray machine opened on its own, revealing more muscle than I’d ever seen on a man.

Steve lay on the machine, breathing heavily, his torso rising and falling as sweat glistened in the low light. “Holy shit…” Howard breathed out behind me before running over to Erskine to help Steve out of the machine.

Peggy nearly sprinted down the stairs, and I reached Steve at almost the same time. She took in the sight, clearly swooning, unable to decide whether to look at his eyes or his pecs.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Taller,” Steve responded, breathing heavily.

“Well, you certainly look taller…” I mumbled with a smile before passing his shirt to Peggy, who almost touched his chest before stopping herself.

Phillips and a few others came over, congratulating Erskine, my brother, and me for the project’s success. As Senator Brandt shook Erskine’s hand, I noticed a man I didn’t recognize standing in the back of the group. I elbowed Abe and nodded toward the stranger. As they made eye contact, Abe’s face dropped, and suddenly a bomb exploded in the observation box.

We all ducked for cover as the glass shattered around us. Looking up from under my brother’s arm, I saw Abe standing straight, facing the man.

“Stop him!” he yelled as my eyes darted to the man stealing the only vial of serum we had left. In one swift motion, the man pulled out his pistol and shot Erskine in the chest. My friend fell to his knees immediately.

The man sprinted up the stairs, and in a fit of anger, I stood up, ripped my gun from its thigh holster, and shot at him, landing a bullet in his arm. Peggy ran after him, and Steve rushed over to Abe.

As Dr. Erskine lay there taking his last breaths, I saw him point to Steve’s heart. As his hand fell, Steve’s demeanor changed instantly, and he sprinted up the stairs after Peggy. I looked over at the Colonel, who snapped his head toward me.

“Don’t look at me! Go after them!” he yelled.

Without hesitation, I ran up the stairs toward the street, avoiding more dead bodies than I’d like to. Turning the corner from the back of the store, I saw Steve tackle Peggy to the ground as a taxi cab, riddled with bullet holes, zoomed past.

“I had him!” she yelled in frustration.

“Sorry!” he responded as he took off running down the street, barefoot and all. I jogged out to the street just in time to see him turn the corner faster than I’d ever seen anyone run.

Peggy stood there scolding as she fixed her jacket, and I was ready to make a smartass comment about her earlier admiration of Steve.

“Don’t you dare,” she stopped me before walking back inside to deal with the chaos the intruder had left behind. As more people screamed about a dead man in the car up ahead, which I now assumed was the original getaway car, I followed Peggy back inside to avoid any questions or cameras.

Walking back down the stairs, I saw they had already placed a white sheet over Abe’s body. I’d never dealt with death well, and my breath hitched in my throat. Goosebumps covered my body as Phillips walked over to me with Howard, my feet rooted at the bottom of the stairs.

“What happened outside? Where’s Rogers?” Phillips asked demandingly but softly to avoid drawing attention.

“Chasing down the son-of-a-bitch that did this,” I said sternly, “and hopefully killing him so that asshole doesn’t have to deal with me.”

“Find him, Stark,” Phillips ordered.

Within seconds I was already on my heels and walking back up the stairs toward the car we had arrived in. The MP who drove us had left the keys in the ignition, and as I turned the key, Peggy sat down next to me, the passenger door slamming shut.

“Where should we look first?” I asked dryly while pulling a U-turn in the middle of the road.

“Knowing Rogers, just follow the accidental destruction, and we should find him.”

I drove through the borough, following the trail of shattered storefronts and rear-ended cars until we ended up at Brooklyn’s Pier 13, where Steve happened to be, standing over a dead Hydra agent.

Chapter Text

Howard and I stood staring at the inner workings of the Hydra submarine the operative had tried to escape in. Peggy was in one of the nurse’s rooms with Steve, taking his blood to get samples for decoding his genetics and recreating the perfected serum – Abe’s perfected serum.

“The mechanics of this thing are insane; I’ve never seen anything like it,” Howard said, disbelief evident as he examined a panel hanging off the side of the metal structure. 

“Makes my engineering degree feel useless,” I admitted as I twisted some bolts and pulled on a few hoses inside it. Similar to Howard’s opinion, this technology was more advanced than I cared to admit. As I turned to grab a monkey wrench, I saw Phillips and Senator Brandt walking down the corridor towards us, already bickering.

“What have we got here?” the Colonel demanded as Brandt’s attention snapped to Howard and me.

“Well, speaking modestly, I’m the best mechanical engineer in this country,” Howard replied, earning some side-eye from me. “But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works. We’re not even close to this level of technology.”

“And who is?” Brandt asked eagerly.

“Hydra,” Phillips started before making a snarky comment at Brandt, fueling more bickering. 

“Hydra is the Nazi deep-science division. It’s led by Johann Schmidt, but he has much bigger ambitions,” Peggy interjected as she walked from the stairs with Steve. He was securing the last two buttons on his cuff, intently listening to the conversation.

“Hydra’s practically occult. They worship Schmidt; they think he’s invincible,” Phillips added.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Brandt questioned.

“I spoke to the President this morning. As of today, the SSR is being re-tasked. We’re taking the fight to Hydra. Pack your bags, Agent Carter; you too, Stark. We’re flying to London tonight,” Phillips said. Howard and I perked up from behind the submarine, each raising an eyebrow. “Oh, uh, Howard,” Phillips added as he walked away.

Steve began to argue with Phillips about joining them, and I was too focused on holding my tongue about not being included. There’s only room for one woman on this team, and of course, it’s Peggy. Howard nudged my side, his eyebrows furrowed in a “you okay?” type of way. I didn’t even bother to answer, redirecting my attention to the vessel.

As Phillips shut Steve down immediately and walked out of the room, Brandt approached Steve and began pitching something to him. My ears tuned into their conversation, and Howard instantly noticed my interest.

“Y/N, stay out of it,” he said, glancing between me and Brandt. “You’ll only piss off Phillips more.”

“Well, then I’d love to be a part of that,” I muttered, hopping up from the drop floor. Howard whisper-yelled my name as I rubbed my hands on my work pants and walked straight over to the senator, Steve’s attention snapping to me as I approached.

“Mr. Senator, sir,” I began, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and I’d love to express my interest in—”

“Oh, excellent, one of the people who made it all possible,” Brandt said with a sly smile as he looked me up and down. “And of course, having a Stark in attendance is never bad publicity.”

Feeling immediately uncomfortable, I smiled politely and shook his hand, for some reason agreeing to whatever mess Rogers had just gotten himself into.

One Week Later 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Steve said, standing in his Stars and Stripes costume. I peeked through the curtain as the band began playing, and a stout man walked up to Steve, shoving a prop shield into his hands.

“Nothing to it. You sell a few bonds, bonds buy bullets, bullets kill Nazis, bing bang boom,” the man said quickly. “You’re an American hero.”

“It’s just not how I pictured getting there,” Steve sighed, pulling the cotton mask over his head and scanning the notecards on the back of the shield.

“Steve! It’s almost your cue!” I whisper-yelled. He looked over at me, his eyebrows knitted together. I could sense the uneasiness radiating off him as I walked over to smooth out the costume.

“Hey, you’ve got this,” I said as he sighed and looked towards the stage. “I know it’s not the kind of uniform you thought you’d be wearing, but—”

A grin appeared on his face as he looked down at me, but it quickly faded as the drums picked up, signaling Steve’s cue to run out onto the stage. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped through the curtains.

“Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American wayyyy…”

“Not all of us can storm a beach or drive a tank, but there’s still a way all of us can fight…”

“Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right night and dayyyy…”

As the show went on, I stood behind the stage, watching Steve glance down at his shield prop, where his lines were hastily written on a piece of paper taped to the back. His large body moved awkwardly around the showgirls, partly due to him still not being used to standing at 6'2, partly because of the sweetheart necklines and short skirt hems. I couldn't help but feel a smile of pity form on my lips, and I couldn't stop thinking about all Abe had dreamed and hoped for with Project Rebirth and Steve's purpose.

As the curtains swished shut, I barely had a chance to say a word to Steve before a campaign worker yanked him away and dragged him in front of a photo backdrop. The number of mothers waiting to get pictures of their babies with the “Star-Spangled Man with a Plan” and the amount school-aged boys standing with posters and pens was astronomical. As I watched him greet person after person, I realized this man had probably never held a baby before. The way mothers would hand their child to Steve, only for him to awkwardly cradle their little torsos while their legs kicked everywhere, was hilarious. Yet, despite the humor, I could see the discomfort on his face. I felt for him, knowing he’d rather be on the ground with other soldiers than showing off his pearly whites to the cameras.

Steve improved over time. Not just with holding babies part, but with the acting and charm factor of selling the bonds as Captain America. For weeks, we traveled from city to city on the USO tour, seeing welcome billboards in Buffalo, Milwaukee, Philadelphia, Chicago, and beyond. The confidence that beamed whenever he was on stage, seeing the young kids going wild for him, or the perseverance to get the perfect take for the ads, he made it seem like he was born for this. At the afterparties we'd be funneled by Brandt to talk to millionaires, Steve's protective hand on my waist knowing how men with power get after a few drinks. The cameras snapped photos, the women would approach him endlessly, and he still was that humble, kind guy from Brooklyn. 

Besides taking notes on his physical progress and monitoring him, or managing his schedule and engagements, Steve and I grew into very close friends over the past few months. He knew me better than anyone else I could think of. We talked about everything—our lives, pet peeves, parents or lack thereof, and our best friends besides each other. Sharing every aspect of my life with him felt like second-nature.

“Yeah, Peg and I are pretty close, I don't know how we haven't talked about this," I said as we sat on the plane headed for Italy, the engine’s rattling now white noise to us. “Since we both got involved with the war efforts, we were always the only two women in the room. Instead of seeing each other as competition, we immediately stuck together, and now I trust her with more than my life,” I shared, biting down on a cracker.

“Peggy really is remarkable,” Steve said with a smile, looking down at his lap before gazing out the dark window. “She’s so determined and sure of herself, and she’s just—”

“All you can think about?” I asked bluntly, looking at him. His eyes shot over to mine, then quickly away as he began stammering.

“What? I—uh—I mean she’s, um—”

“Steve, I know you like her. She’s stunning, absolutely intelligent, and confident—I know,” I finished for him with a chuckle. To save him from further embarrassment, I shifted the conversation. “What about you, huh? Tell me about your best friend.”

He cleared his throat before speaking. “His name is Bucky—well, it’s actually James, but you know I’ve refered to him a few times before.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, quite a few times,” I said, earning a glare from him.

“Anyway,” he said with a touch of attitude before smiling again, “he’s like a brother to me. We’ve been friends since we were kids. He was always saving me from alley fights, taught me how to box, stayed with me when my mom died… I mean, we even played hooky and went to Coney Island a few times just for the hell of it. One time, we even had to hitchhike back to Brooklyn because he spent our train money trying to win a stuffed bear for some girl,” Steve trailed off, obviously reminiscing.

“He was the soldier you were with the night Erskine and I recruited you,” I pointed out, my tone softer.

“Yup,” he said, cracking a smile. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you two looking at each other either. I may have been short then, but I wasn’t blind.”

His comment made my cheeks turn bright red, and thank God it was dark enough on this plane for him not to see. “Okay, look, in my defense—”

“Y/N/N, no need to defend yourself. Buck is a handsome guy,” he said, cutting me off. “I honestly was curious about who he was looking at when I was talking with him—”

“Bickering,” I said, earning another Steve glare.

“Again, anyway,” he started. “I saw you leaning on the wall when I turned to walk back to the enlistment area, and I immediately knew you were who Buck had his eyes on… And when you turned out to be Stark’s sister, I was blown away.”

I suddenly felt my mood deflate a bit, and Steve immediately picked up on it. His eyebrows scrunched together, silently asking what was wrong, and I took a deep breath.

“Sorry,” I said as he shook his head, letting me continue. “It’s just, I’m never just ‘Y/N,’ you know? Once people hear the last name, I instantly become ‘Y/N Stark, sister to the genius–playboy, New York socialite.’” I laughed lightly before continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, sometimes having the last name is nice, like having all my drinks bought for me on the tour so far,” I said with a smile. “But once people hear ‘Stark’ and put the pieces together, they forget that I’m smart too, that I’m more than just a pretty face with the Stark name.”

Steve smiled slightly before looking at me. “Well, I think you’re very intelligent, and I’m lucky to be able to call you one of my best friends, Y/N.”

“It means a lot, Steve,” I responded with a smile. “And I’m lucky to call Captain America one of my best friends as well.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head as I laughed with him. With that, we reclined our seats and tried to catch some shut-eye as we flew over the Atlantic, ready to land in Italy in just a few short hours for the beginning of our long Allied territories leg of the tour.

----

I stood behind the stage as soldiers began hurling random fruits at Steve. After our long travels and just arriving at camp an hour ago, the sleepiness I’d been feeling evaporated as some showgirls raced past me. Cheering that replicated roars erupted from the men seated in front of the stage, and Steve briskly walked past me and down the stairs, more girls following their peers.

“Steve! Steve, wait up!” I shouted, trying to keep up with him. The faster I walked, the faster he moved away from me. I was about to call his name again when the clouds rumbled and raindrops began to fall. Surrounded by unlabeled tents and wearing a white blouse, I ran into the nearest tent for cover.

“...Ah, shit,” I muttered, trying to keep my semi-muddy boots off the unexpected carpet beneath me.

“Fancy seeing you here,” an American voice said. My head snapped up.

“Howard?!” I exclaimed in disbelief, rushing over to hug him tighter than usual. My heart raced with excitement at seeing him. “Oh my God, since when are you not in London?”

“Y/N/N, you’re acting like we haven’t seen each other in years. It’s only been a few months,” he said, hugging me back with a nonchalant tone while deflecting my question.

“Well, pardon me for missing my only sibling who’s helping the States fight in a world war,” I replied with a hint of attitude. “And for your information, it’s November, so it’s almost been half a year.”

I glanced around Howard’s tent as he walked over to a larger table cluttered with papers, looking them over before scribbling something down. “I’m not going to be here long. Hell, I’m not even supposed to be on the grounds right now,” he muttered, “but you should go find Peggy. She was excited the USO was stopping here because she knew you were coming along with it.”

Grabbing one of the olive Army jackets from a coat rack, I glanced over at him while putting it on. “Oh, was she excited because I was coming, or because I was coming with Steve?”

Howard’s eyes snapped up to me, and he smirked in response. Before he could say anything, I threw the hood over my head and ventured back out into the rain to find Steve and Peggy.

As I trudged through the now muddy camp, I spotted a tent with one side missing. Phillips was seated at the main desk. Changing my course, I headed towards the proper entry point at the front to say hello.

“Well, if it isn’t the babysitter of Brandt’s little puppet,” Phillips said matter-of-factly as I walked up to his desk, my demeanor instantly shifting.

“I’d rather him be on stage making the Army some bond money than stuck in a lab being pricked and prodded like a rat,” I shot back. Phillips rolled his eyes before locking them with mine.

“Says the scientist,” he mumbled, but loud enough for me to hear. “So what exactly is it that you want? Waltzing in here unannounced?”

“Well, to your surprise, I was actually going to say, ‘Hey Chester, how have you been?’ but obviously, you’ve changed the course of my ship pretty quickly,” I responded, taking off my raincoat hood and placing my hands on his desk.

Before Phillips could respond, I heard heavy boots splashing through puddles, followed by Steve’s booming voice.

“Colonel Phillips!” Steve yelled as he ran into the tent, Peggy hot on his heels as the Colonel rolled his eyes.

“Now if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. What is your plan today?” Phillips asked coolly.

“I need the casualty list from Azzano,” Steve demanded urgently. I knew I looked surprised because Peggy gave me a questioning glance.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son,” Phillips replied, crossing his arms.

“I just need one name: Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th,” Steve said quickly. My head snapped to Steve as he said that. Bucky.

Pointing to Peggy, Phillips said, “You and I are going to have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.”

“Please tell me he’s alive, sir. B-A-R—”

“I can spell,” Phillips sassed, sitting there for a moment before getting up and turning to the table behind him. “I’ve signed more of these condolence letters today than I care to count... but the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry.”

Peggy and I looked at each other before turning to Steve, who remained oddly calm.

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?” Steve asked urgently. Phillips stood with his hands on his hips before responding.

“Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s head slowly turned to the Colonel. “But if you know where they are, why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines through some of the most heavily fortified territories in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand because you’re a chorus girl.”

“I think I understand just fine,” Steve said coolly.

“Well then understand it somewhere else,” Phillips said, walking away from us. “And if I read those posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

Steve’s eyes stayed fixed on the pinned map as he responded, “Yes, sir, I do.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I muttered following the speed-walking super-soldier out of the tent without hesitation. Peggy wasn’t too far behind me as we basically ran after Steve and into his part of the show tent, our boots splashing through the puddles and mud.

“What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?” Peggy questioned as she ran into the tent with me. Steve was throwing things into a duffle, his brown leather moto jacket already on.

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Steve, you heard Phillips. Your friend is most likely dead,” Peggy said.

“You don’t know that,” Steve and I spat in unison. He glanced at me before going back to his frantic packing.

“Even so, he’s devising a strategy. If he detects—”

“By the time he’s done that, it could already be too late!” Steve slightly yelled as he grabbed the prop shield and walked out of the tent, Peggy and I following him.

Steve threw the duffle and shield into the back of a Jeep, and I hopped into the driver’s seat. Turning to look at my friends, I saw they were only looking at each other.

“You told me that you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?” Steve asked Peggy.

“Every word,” she responded.

“Then you gotta let me go,” Steve said as he climbed into the passenger seat before giving me a questioning glance.

“Don’t think you’re going by yourself, blondie,” I said with a smile. “And don’t think you’re driving us either.” A soft, grateful smile appeared on his face. Peggy walked up to his side of the Jeep as I started the engine, her determined eyes meeting mine. I felt like I could read her mind. Knowing where we were and who we were with, there couldn’t be a cleaner option.

“I’ll meet you at the runway,” I said, smirking, and immediately hit the gas, zooming away from the camp.

Chapter Text

The three of us sat in the back of the plane as Howard flew us through the night sky. I had to admit, while I wasn’t fully prepared, at least I’d chosen pants and boots instead of a skirt and pumps this morning. As Peggy began debriefing us, I ran my fingers over the embroidered Stark Industries logo on the leather seat and pulled my hair back with a piece of twine I had taken out of the GPW we drove to the runway.

“The Hydra camp is in Krausberg, nestled between these two mountain ranges,” she explained to Steve, who was seated across from her. “It’s some sort of factory.”

“We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep,” Howard added from the cockpit. I sat next to Steve, peering intently at the map Peg had in her lap.

“Just get us as close as you can,” Steve said, fiddling with a buckle.

“Get us as close as you can,” I echoed, causing Howard to snap his head back toward me with wide eyes. He looked like he was about to reprimand me, but Steve spoke up before he could.

“You two are gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land.”

“And you two won’t?” Peggy retorted.

“Where I’m going, if anyone yells at me, I can just shoot ’em,” Steve said with a smirk.

“They will undoubtedly shoot back,” Peggy pointed out with a note of concern.

“And that’s where I come in and shoot them again,” I chimed in, “you know I have great aim, Peg.”

“Well, let’s hope the shield is good for something, just in case,” Steve added, knocking the metal prop with his fist.

“Agent Carter?” Howard called from the front. “If we’re not in too much of a hurry, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for some late-night fondue.”

Suddenly, tension seemed to fill the cabin, radiating off Peggy and Steve. I knew exactly the spot Howard was talking about; their fondue selection was quite incredible.

Steve’s eyes darted between Peggy and Howard as the silence thickened. Instead of acknowledging Howard, Peggy ignored him completely and continued speaking to Steve.

“Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s brave enough to handle this airspace. We’re lucky to have him,” she said as Steve adjusted his gloves.

“So, are you two—do you…” Steve started, gesturing between Peggy and Howard. Peggy’s eyes flitted from Howard to Steve, her eyebrows raised in question. “…fondue?”

As Steve finished his sentence, I had to stifle a laugh. If only he knew how many times Peggy had turned Howard down. To be fair, Howard only asked because she was the only woman he’d seen in months. I looked down at my boots, biting my lip to keep from laughing, while Peggy simply ignored Steve’s question.

“This is your transponder,” Peggy said, handing Steve a device. “Activate it when you’re ready and the signal will lead us straight to you.”

“Are you sure this thing works?” Steve asked, glancing at Howard, who earned a scoff from me.

“Steve, that thing has been tested more than you have,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Before Steve could respond, bullets started hitting the plane, and the cabin fell into tense silence. Steve and I exchanged a quick nod. I zipped up my leather jacket and strapped on a parachute, while Steve moved to the door.

“Get back here! We’re taking you both all the way in!” Peggy shouted, turning to face the now open door.

“As soon as we’re clear, you turn this plane around and get the hell out of here, understood?” Steve yelled over the roar of the engines as I hooked him into my harness. Even though he was obviously larger than I was, I’d jumped from a plane before, thanks to my brother.

“You can’t give me orders!” Peggy shouted back.

“The hell I can’t! I’m a Captain!” Steve replied, cracking a grin. I tapped his side, he nodded, and I gave Peggy and Howard a final smile and thumbs-up before we jumped out of the plane.

Steve and I plunged into the darkness as gravity took over, the only illumination coming from the sparks of bullets streaking toward us and the plane. As I pulled the parachute, Howard's plane receded into the distance. We landed safely on the ground, and after unhooking Steve and leaving the parachute behind, we sprinted into the cover of the woods.

After walking for a good twenty-five minutes, Steve broke the silence. "Y'know, Y/N, you didn't have to come with me. I could have rescued Bucky on my own."

"Steve, you can't be serious. I stuck with your ass throughout the USO tour, I wasn't letting you break into a Hydra facility by yourself," I replied, pausing before adding, "Besides, I know how much Bucky means to you. And I know you would do the same for me."

Steve looked at me and smiled. He was about to respond when we both heard the distant rumble of truck engines. I glanced in the direction of the sound and spotted a wire fence and a gravel path.

I signaled Steve to follow me as we sprinted toward the road that led directly to the Hydra facility. The entire perimeter was fenced with electric wire and the area we just so happened to be at had a watchtower with circulating lights.

"I really should have asked this earlier, but any chance you know how to fight?" Steve asked as we crouched behind trees near the road.

"Do I know how to fight?” I scoffed, “C'mon, I shot a guy in the arm for Christ's sake, remember? You were there!"

"Sorry, sorry, I'll take that as a yes," Steve defended himself with his hands up.

"Yeah, you better...pfft, do I know how to fight," I said under my breath as I peeked out from behind the tree, headlights reflecting off the gravel road. 

Steve and I hunkered down as two motorcycles and three supply trucks rolled toward the facility. Once the last truck passed, we nodded at each other and followed it.

I hadn't seen Steve run since the day he got the serum, and I was still surprised at the lungs our version of the formula gave him. We managed to catch up to the truck, and Steve hopped into the back cargo space. I followed suit, somehow landing just seconds after him.

"Screw this thing," I mumbled as I took off the loose USO showgirl helmet that Peggy stole. Just then, we came face-to-face with two Hydra soldiers stationed in the truck bed.

"Fellas," Steve curtly greeted before they both charged at us.

These men were not prepared to fight anyone tonight, let alone a super soldier and a woman. Was the soldier fighting me throwing punches? Yes. Was he pulling said punches because I'm a woman? Also yes.

I blocked his fists with ease and kicked him right in the stomach, then I yanked his helmet right off of his head. As the Hydra soldier tried to regain his composure and familiarize himself with his surroundings, I snagged a handful of hair and brought his head down on my knee. Steve already kicked his guy out of the truck, and then tossed mine out the back for me, making sure he hit the ground unconscious. 

"Okay," Steve said, catching his breath as I wiped the sweat from my face, "you can definitely fight."

"Don’t underestimate me, Rogers," I replied with a smirk, “I’m a woman in a man’s world.”

As the truck approached the facility, I glanced through the flapping tarp, catching brief glimpses of the base before realizing we were heading toward the loading dock. Looking around the truck bed, I saw a machine gun placed on the bench next to a few full magazines.

Steve was too preoccupied with trying to see the facility, so I swung the gun over my shoulder and across my body, slinging and hooking the extra ammunition around my torso. As the truck swung into a K-turn, I tugged on Steve's jacket sleeve.

"Blondie, go towards the end of the truck with your shield up. There are probably gonna be Hydra men coming to unload back here," I instructed. Steve grabbed his shield and took position behind it as the truck reversed into the loading zone.

As the tarp swung open, Steve slammed his shield right into a soldier and sent him flying back into the bay. We quickly hopped out the back, landing quietly on our feet before jogging over toward the tanks and vehicles.

"I'll lead the way. Follow close behind me," Steve ordered while we stood between the tanks. He looked back at me to make sure I was paying attention and did a double-take when he saw the gun slung over my shoulder, eyebrows knitting together in question. I shrugged.

"You didn’t think I’d just leave it in the truck, did you? It’s a bit of an upgrade from a thigh pistol," I said with a grin. Steve took a deep breath and gestured for me to follow, and I did just that as we ran toward the largest building on the base.

Walking down the dark hallway, I stopped as Steve peered through a door with a small rectangular window. Knocking on the glass, a guard opened it, and Steve slammed the guy's head between the door and its frame, knocking him unconscious. We then weaved our way through a bunch of machinery before seeing a table full of small metal devices with glowing blue lights.

"What in the hell..." I whispered as Steve grabbed one of the smaller rectangular devices and shoved it in his pocket. He glanced at me, concern draping his face before he looked around so we could keep moving.

As we made our way silently through the facility, we saw a man walking over what seemed to be a floor with multiple vents made of iron bars. I nudged Steve and gestured for him to look, and he nodded in response.

"I bet he's patrolling from above while the soldiers are underneath," I whispered.

"Only one way to find out."

We both walked silently in the direction of the guard and once we were at arm's length, Steve knocked the guy unconscious without hesitation.

"You must hit pretty goddamn hard; you've knocked out every single guy we’ve come across," I said as I jiggled the keys off the guard's belt. From below, I heard people stand, and Steve looked down at them.

"And who are you two supposed to be?" one of the American soldiers asked. I looked down as he asked the question and then back up at Steve for his answer.

"I'm...Captain America." In the dim light, I saw their faces scrunch up in question.

"I beg your pardon?" I heard a British accent say before their attention turned to me. "And what would that make you?"

"Uh, good question, pal," I answered with a shrug before jogging over to Steve with a small grin. "Y'know, they probably don't have American comics on the front lines, so they have no clue who you are."

"Well, how else was I supposed to answer?" Steve replied as we made our way down the small metal stairs on the side of Hydra's POW jail.

I tossed Steve the keys as he unlocked the cells, and we made our way to the one beneath where the guard had fallen. This cell contained a particular bunch, including one with a handlebar mustache and bowler hat, and another with a red beret.

"Is there anyone else here? We're looking for Sergeant James Barnes," I asked as all the men started to walk toward the exit, this group staying close to us.

"There's an isolation ward in the factory," the British man with the red beret informed us, "but no one's ever come back from it."

"Alright," Steve started, "the tree line is northwest, eighty yards past the gate. Get out fast and give 'em hell. We'll meet you in the clearing with anyone else we find."

"Wait, you two know what you're doing?" the American with the bowler hat asked.

"Yeah. I've knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times." With that, Steve started jogging toward the main hallway of the factory. The soldiers stood there baffled and looked at me as I processed what he had said.

"Not actually. I mean, he has, but, whatever..." I rambled before jogging after him, probably only confusing the men more.

As I ran up to a kneeling Steve, I heard the metal doors open at the other end of the hall, and all the newly freed soldiers stormed outside. Within seconds, alarms inside the facility started blaring, and I looked to Steve for direction.

"Okay, we need to find that isolation room. I'll go first and clear the way; you weave your way up the stairs, and I'll follow. Shoot down anyone you need to, and you'll be golden—the butt-end of the gun packs a punch too."

"Aye, aye, Captain," I responded as Steve gave me his signature glare. We stood up and both took deep breaths before I drew my gun and Steve kicked the door, unleashing hell in front of us.

Chapter Text

Steve took down soldier after soldier as I stayed by him, shooting down whoever I could.

'Head. Neck. Head. Head. Chest. Neck.' I thought to myself as I shot at the Hydra men, each of them falling to the ground as soon as I saw them.

Steve was holding his own, and that prop shield was coming in much handier than I had thought. I need to tell Howard about that.

Remembering the spoken plan, I became a fly on the wall and wove my way through the chaos. I shot whoever got in my way but easily made my way up the multiple flights of stairs. I jogged down a long hallway and saw an ominous green light coming from an open door.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps came in quickly behind me, and with a swift turn, the gun was on my shoulder in an instant, pointing right at Steve.

"Jesus!" he whisper-shouted.

"Oh God, I am so sorry," I said quickly, lowering the gun. "C'mon, follow me."

I waved my hand and started to walk down the brick hallway toward the light, Steve walking close behind me. Out of nowhere, a short man with glasses rushed out of a room, his bag clutched to his chest and overflowing with papers. His head snapped to us, and I saw his tiny eyes grow as large as they could through his lenses when he registered us standing there.

We both started to run toward him, and he ran as fast as he could down the hall in the other direction. Even with my gun drawn, something in my gut was telling me not to fire. Stopping at the room the small man came out of, a low groan came from inside.

Steve's head snapped to it, and he cautiously walked through the doorway. I followed right behind him, gun against my shoulder, and we walked right into a makeshift laboratory.

"Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…" a man mumbled from the other side of the room. He was strapped down to a table that looked like a gurney, but he was surrounded by all of these odd metal contraptions, and the floor around him was covered in ripped and crumpled-up papers.

Steve ran over, and I saw the relief fill his face before being replaced by worry almost immediately. "Bucky...oh my God."

Hearing his name, I dropped the gun on the floor and helped Steve unbuckle his friend. Bucky was zoned out, staring at the ceiling, his pupils almost as big as his irises, and I could feel Steve's worrisome energy radiating off him.

"Is—is that..." Bucky mumbled.

"It's me, it's Steve," Steve said.

"Steve?" Bucky questioned as his friend got him up off the table. "Steve..." he trailed off, almost sounding like a relieved child. As he registered that Steve was actually there, his pupils returned to their normal size, but he still seemed dazed.

Steve got him standing almost immediately and looked him over to make sure he was okay to walk. While they had their little reunion, I picked up a bunch of papers off the floor and stuffed my pockets and jacket with as much as they could hold.

"I thought you were dead," Steve said sternly.

"I thought you were smaller," Bucky replied, a bomb going off in the distance as soon as he responded.

"Alright guys, I hate to rush you both, but we gotta go," I said while standing and grabbing Bucky's left side to support him, Steve grabbing his right. As I readjusted Bucky's weight on my side, Steve stared at the map that pinpointed the bases, taking mental note of each one.

I cleared my throat, and we started speed-walking, Steve moving so fast that he was basically dragging both Bucky and me.

"What happened to you?" Bucky asked him.

"I joined the Army," was Steve's simple response. I chuckled at that as we made our way down the hall, Bucky turning his head toward me.

"And since when do you know her?" Bucky asked again.

"Well, 'her' has a name, and I'm one of the people who got him into the Army," I answered before Steve could.

"You're the girl from the Expo, from the—" Bucky started as I cut him off.

"The enlistment area, yes, we can talk about this later," I answered as a dumb smile spread across his face. It made me smile a little too as I shook my head at him. Bucky started to walk a bit better, and Steve noticed, so he let go and let him rely solely on me.

"Steve, did it hurt?" Bucky asked him.

"A little."

"Is it permanent?"

"So far," Steve answered with an optimistic tone.

Bucky stumbled alongside me, and it took almost all of the strength in my body to keep him walking and both of us up to speed with Steve. Thankfully, he gained most of his cognitive abilities back quickly because as he ultimately began to walk without support from me or the wall, the facility shook with more explosions.

We finally got to the balcony of the floor we were on that overlooked the machinery below. As we looked down, another section of the factory blew up, making us head straight for the stairs. Steve took the lead, and I made Bucky go in between us, leaving me as the caboose.

Arriving at the top level, a booming German accent came from across the platform.

"Captain America! I am a great fan of your films," a slender man yelled over at us, the bright red Hydra emblem stitched right onto his sleeve. Behind him was the same little man Steve and I had seen running out of the room earlier. Bucky's knuckles were white as he gripped the railing, his eyes locked on the small man. The poor guy looked like he saw a ghost, the small man having the slightest smirk curling his lips, and my body temperature rose with my level of anger. 'Oh, I should’ve shot at him,’ I thought. 

"So," he started as he and Steve walked toward each other, "Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive."

"Johann Schmidt..." I mumbled under my breath, everything suddenly clicking.

"Who?" Bucky asked as Steve socked Schmidt right in the jaw, both of our attentions being drawn back to them.

As Schmidt looked up at Steve, quite disheveled, I saw his right eye start to droop. 'Oh god,' I thought, remembering what Erskine had told me years ago, but I hadn't wanted to believe it.

Schmidt aimed his fist right at Steve's head, but thankfully the shield blocked it in time. Steve went to reach for his gun, but Schmidt got him in the jaw, and Steve hit him right back before kicking him in the chest.

As Schmidt sat up, the small man yanked a lever on their side, separating the catwalk in two. "No matter what lies Erskine told you, you see, I was his greatest success!"

Then, he grabbed the skin at his neck and peeled his face off, revealing a red skull.

"No fucking way..." I mumbled to myself, my jaw dropping open almost immediately.

"You don't have one of those, do you?" Bucky asked Steve, completely frozen by what he saw.

"You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier," Schmidt preached while throwing his face into the flames below, "but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind!"

All three of us stood there as Schmidt continued his boast and walked over to an elevator. "Unlike you, I embrace it proudly—without fear!"

"Then how come you're running?" Steve yelled accusingly at him. Schmidt and the small man just stood in the elevator, and he smiled as the doors shut. With that, more explosions went off below, and I felt the heat rising around us.

Steve's head darted around, and I saw him lock on a large beam almost near the roof of the factory. "Come on, let's go! Up!"

I grabbed Bucky's arm and we followed Steve as fast as we could, getting in the same order, with me taking my place as the caboose.

As we got to the top floor, the heat rose with us, and I could tell these metal platforms weren’t staying up much longer. Steve looked between us and the beam, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Let's go, one at a time," he said, Bucky not even hesitating to slowly swing himself over the railings to cross the beam.

"Steve, that's insane!" I yelled as the building shook from the explosions, "That thing isn't going to hold!"

Somehow, Bucky had already made it halfway across and carefully and quickly made his way to the other side. I looked at him across the way and saw a smile of relief on his face. I turned back to Steve, who was already looking at me.

"Oh Jesus Christ," I mumbled before getting myself over the railing, "...goddamn you, Rogers."

As I walked across the beam, the explosions below became more aggressive. As I took a step, the beam shook and fell a little, and my feet fell with the beam. I swallowed hard and continued to the other side, feeling the beam sliding the smallest bit every time I took a step.

Going to step down off the connecting piece in the middle, the whole beam dropped again, and it felt like a fire was actually lit under my ass. I carefully started to run to the other side, and the metal beam slipped from the floor that held it. I took the leap of faith and had never been more relieved to crash into a hot metal railing.

Bucky grabbed my jacket and swung me over the railing. I landed right on my ass, and he instantly knelt beside me to help me up.

"You alright?" he asked as he lifted me by my forearm, his eyes staring into mine with full attention.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," I stammered while staring back. Thank God we were in a burning building, so it’s not like he’d notice my blushing cheeks. I quickly pulled my arm back and brushed my hands on my jacket.

I turned my attention toward Steve, who was still on the other side, and Bucky did the same. We leaned on the railing, and I looked over at him in desperation. The flames were only growing below, and I frantically looked around to see if there was any way he could get over here.

"There's gotta be a rope or something!" Bucky yelled out to him.

"Just go! Get out of here!" Steve frantically responded.

"No! Not without you!"

As Bucky yelled back to him, Steve looked down at the railing and immediately bent it back.

"...is he gonna try and jump across?" I asked, looking over at Bucky.

"It looks like it," he answered, his eyes locked on his best friend. I let out a sigh and looked over at Steve.

"C'mon, Rogers..." I mumbled. Steve took a deep breath, and with a one-two step, he took the biggest leap over the factory as one of the last machines blew up right below him.

As the flames engulfed all we could see, Bucky grabbed me by my jacket and pulled me away from the railing. The factory shook from the explosion, causing us both to fall to the other side of the floor. The smoke surrounded us, but as soon as it cleared enough to open my eyes, I saw Steve lying in the middle of the walkway.

"Jesus Christ, blondie," I muttered, crawling toward a coughing Steve. He had knocked the wind out of himself, and the smoke surrounding us didn’t help, but thank God he made the jump.

"C'mon, we gotta go before this place comes down," I said, pulling on his sleeve. He nodded while still coughing in response, and I turned around to see Bucky crawling toward a small window hatch.

He peeked his head out of it and turned back to us, waving his hand for us to come over. Steve army-crawled behind me as we made our way over to his friend.

"There's a metal ladder that leads all the way down to the ground," he said with the lower half of his body already outside. "I'll go first, and you two follow."

I nodded as I followed and started making my way down the ladder. The metal was hot from the flames inside, but I couldn’t speed up since Bucky was below me taking his time. Steve kept looking down to make sure he wasn’t stepping on my hands, and I kept doing the same for Bucky.

Around halfway, I lost feeling in the insides of my palms from the temperature of the metal, and I glanced down to see if Bucky was speeding up at all. When I looked down, though, he was already looking up at me, but not at my head. He quickly looked away after we made the shortest eye contact and started heading down a bit faster than he had been before.

'Oh, my god, he was looking at my ass,' I thought, 'I mean, the military pants do it justice but..."

About a minute later, I heard Bucky's boots hit the ground, and almost instantly, I felt a wave of relief rush over me. I jumped to the ground from higher than I should have, and Steve followed right behind me. As the two of them assessed the area we ended up in, I put my hands on the cold earth, breathing a huge sigh.

Looking at the palms of my hands, I could already see the white bubbles forming on my palms. "Oh, these do not look pretty..." I mumbled. I brushed off the dirt and stood up, feeling the sting from the contact with my rough pants as I walked over to Steve and Bucky.

"Alright, soldiers, what's our plan?" I asked, standing beside them as they peeked around the side of the building. The whole facility was in fiery chaos, but thankfully most of the men that were dead on the ground were Hydra.

"Well, I told the guys from the holding cells that we'd meet them at the clearing, and it seems like some of those high-tech tanks are now missing," Steve said as he looked around and then down at me. "I'd say they made their way outta here."

"What guys from the cells? Who'd you see down there?" Bucky asked, both of our heads snapping to him.

"Uh, some guy with a mustache and bowler hat, one of them had a beret, one was talking about how he was from Fresno—" I explained as he cut me off.

"I know Bowler Hat, he was in the trenches with me at Azzano..." he trailed off. "If Dugan is leading them, they'll be fine. Let's just focus on getting outta here."

With that, Steve quickly surveyed the area before sprinting toward the gate. Bucky and I ran after him, trying to keep up, but a freshly rescued POW and I were no match for his super-soldier speed. The ladder got us surprisingly close to the loading dock where Steve and I had come in, so it was a pretty straight shot out of the facility.

As we ran, I noticed an illuminating blue light coming from the guns lying on the ground. I stopped and picked one up, instantly recognizing the same blue light from all of the little metal contraptions that had been on a table in the factory.

Bucky saw me stop out of his peripheral vision, and when I leaned down to pick the gun up, he stopped running. Considering I had left my precious machine gun inside, I picked this one up and slung it over my shoulder before turning to him.

"Want one?" I asked, gesturing to the other gun that lay beside another dead Hydra soldier. He quickly glanced between me, the gun, and around us before shrugging and nodding in response.

I cracked a small smile and tossed it to him before we both followed Steve out of the gates of Hydra.

Chapter Text

Bucky and I trudged through the forest for about half an hour before the thickness of the trees began to let up. We didn’t dare say a word or let our guard down; we had no idea who might be hiding out in the woods. I led the way, and Bucky stayed close behind, watching our backs, considering I had already made this walk to help Steve save him.

As we approached the clearing, I saw the stolen Hydra tanks in the distance, still as rocks. I didn’t see any people but noticed tiny glowing blue lights coming from the grass. They resembled fireflies, but I knew they were far from that.

“Barnes, stop walking,” I said in a low tone, his head snapping to me as he approached my side.

“Wait, why—”

As he answered me, a blue force shot at the tree branch above us. Both of our arms flew up to cover our heads, little sticks and leaves falling on us from the blast.

“Identify yourselves!” A booming voice echoed from across the field.

“Uh,” I stammered, looking up at Bucky and then back in the direction of the voice, “I’m not a soldier! I’m—”

“Sergeant! Three-two-five-five-seven-zero-three-eight!” Bucky yelled back, cutting me off. Someone fired two blue blasts directly into the sky, causing me to look up at him only to find the man already smirking down at me.

“C’mon,” he said with a light scoff while shaking his head, the smirk still curling his lips. He started to walk forward, and I followed him into the clearing. I heard him quietly chuckle to himself, and I couldn’t hold my tongue.

“What was I supposed to say? I don’t have a fancy rank or title, I'm not in the Army.”

“Well, you can’t just yell to a field of trained, armed men that you’re not a soldier. It’s like giving them target practice,” he retorted. I huffed, annoyed that he was right, as we made our way toward everyone. Once we got close enough, Steve stood out like a sore thumb with his red, white, and blue shield.

He was standing with the group we rescued from the POW cells, and as soon as he saw us coming toward them, he waved us over. “Oh, thank God, we were waiting for you guys.”

“Barnes,” the man with the bowler hat greeted with a smile.

“Dugan,” he responded, the two of them nodding at each other. I stood next to him and Steve in the circle, and Dugan’s focus turned toward me almost immediately.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am,” he said, acknowledging me with a closed-lip smile and extending his hand to shake mine.

“The name’s Y/N,” I responded, shaking his hand in return.

“Y’know, you look awfully familiar,” one of the guys off to the side commented while squinting at me. I stood there as he stared at my face before his eyes lit up. “AH! You’re the sister of that millionaire-scientist guy, uh, what’s his name...Stark!”

“Oh, please,” another one started, “do you think some New York socialite would be out here getting her hands dirty, let alone rescuing soldiers?”

I felt my body temperature rise with anger, knowing I should have expected a comment like this sooner or later. People don’t recognize me walking down the street, but once I say my first name, the puzzle pieces connect.

Steve stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say, and Bucky looked between me and the other soldier with surprise evident on his face. I was about to respond until I saw a shadow move from the bushes behind the men and the tanks. My head snapped in that direction.

“Dugan, get down,” I demanded as I immediately drew my gun toward the woods. The soldier ducked down, and within seconds, the shadow moved again, this time with a faint blue light making an appearance. My finger immediately pulled the trigger.

The blue blast shot out of my gun, and I heard a man yell a curse word in German before hearing the sizzle of him disintegrating and his equipment hitting the ground. The soldiers around me stood in silence as I lowered my gun and wiped the sweat and dried blood from my forehead.

“Gotta keep your guard up, boys,” I said before locking eyes with the smart-ass, one eyebrow already raised. “Obviously this ‘New York socialite’ is more aware of our surroundings than you trained soldiers.”

With that, I started to walk toward the dirt road about a hundred feet from where we stood. When I didn’t hear anyone follow, I turned back to see the men still standing there, every set of eyes watching me walk away.

“Are you goons gonna stand there staring all night, or are we gonna start heading toward the camp? Let’s get moving, Phillips isn’t gonna wait on our asses forever.”

As I turned back around, I heard Dugan yell at the unit, and everyone started making their way toward the road. I heard Steve run up beside me, and Bucky wasn’t too far behind him. Steve gave me a reassuring smile, knowing exactly how I felt about everything.

Both of them didn’t say anything as we walked along the road, and I was glad they didn’t since I needed to let off a bit of steam. Hearing the midnight crickets was somewhat calming, but I honestly couldn’t wait to get back to that camp, take off these boots, and wrap up my blistered hands.

----

As we trekked up the last hill, I heard dozens of boots hitting the ground and running toward the camp's entrance. It was mid-morning, and the haze and fog had finally started to lift from the nature around us. I was on Steve's left, and Bucky was on his right as the red and white bar lifted, allowing us to enter the U.S. Army camp after days of walking back.

All of the rescued men and the few stolen tanks followed behind us, and soldiers lined the main pathway of the camp, cheering, clapping, and whistling. Steve led the way through the crowd, and as more men swarmed us with excitement, we were met front and center by Peggy and Phillips.

"Some of these men need medical attention," Steve said after saluting the Colonel, "and I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action."

"That won't be necessary," Phillips replied, a small yet grateful smile forming on his face.

"Yes, sir," Steve said before Peggy walked up to him.

"You're late," she said, looking directly at him as if no one else mattered.

Steve smirked and held up the transponder she and Howard had given us, the poor thing mangled and broken. "Couldn't call my ride."

Bucky looked at me with one raised eyebrow, and I lightly nodded my head back at him with a small smile.

"Hey!" Bucky yelled into the group of soldiers, "Let’s hear it for Captain America!" Steve glanced back at him, and Bucky smirked and raised his eyebrows.

Everyone around us started hooting and hollering, but as soon as Steve turned back around, he and Peggy held each other's gaze as if nothing else mattered in the world. Bucky’s eyes were locked on his best friend, a small grateful smile on his face, but I could tell he was a little pained.

The left side of his forehead was bruised, and he had a semi-healed gash on his cheekbone under his left eye. There was also a trail of dried blood from his left ear canal. As he clapped for Steve, he glanced around at the men surrounding us, and his eyes locked with mine.

I knew he could feel me looking at him. As my eyes darted between both of his, trying to find some kind of answer, he looked down at the ground and off into the distance.

Brushing it off, I walked forward and lightly shoulder-checked Steve. "Proud of you, blondie," I said with a smile as Peggy’s attention turned to me.

"Oh my God, Y/N," she said in disbelief, pulling me in for a hug. I laughed as she wrapped her arms around me. "You look—well, you look—"

"Like a wreck, I know," I responded, fully aware she didn’t want to insult me right after I’d gotten back from the rescue mission and kept her little crush safe. I wouldn’t have blamed her, though; I was covered in ash, dirt, and dried blood—both mine and not. "We had quite the time. Didn’t we, Steve?"

He scoffed and smiled, looking down at his feet and then back up at us. "Yeah, you could say that."

Everyone started to disburse, and I took that as my cue to follow Bucky. He was walking in the opposite direction of everyone else, and I just had a gut feeling that something was up. Considering the way Steve and I found him, I think he may need more attention than the regular medical tent could give him.

"I'm gonna get cleaned up and get these blisters dealt with, I'll catch up with you two later," I said to Peg and Steve, quickly making my exit and jogging after Bucky.

"Hey, Barnes!" I yelled after him, "Wait up!"

His head turned and he stopped walking until I caught up with him, but as soon as I did he continued.

"Never thought I'd cross paths with you again," he said, smiling.

"Oh yeah? The girl you made prolonged eye contact with while bickering with your best friend in public?" I shot back with a half-smile.

"God, I forgot about that…" he chuckled, his pace slowing. "And here you are, in the middle of Europe during a world war, helping my best friend rescue me from a burning factory."

"Trust me, I did not expect to see you again, let alone here," I responded, my tone light, “but I’m happy I did.” He slowed his pace even more until we both stopped walking and he turned to face me.

"Allow me to properly introduce myself," he said with a smile and an extended hand. "The name’s Bucky."

"Y/N," I said, shaking his hand warmly. "Steve’s told me a lot about you."

"Has he now?" Bucky raised an eyebrow with a smirk. 

"Oh yes, so much," I teased. "It was either the shenanigans you two got into, or you saving his ass in every alley in Brooklyn."

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. "Saving Steve’s ass? Sounds about right. Kid never backs down from a fight, 'specially if he believes in it."

"And without question, you’ve got him down to a T," I replied as we turned forward and began walking again. 

While we were talking, I couldn’t help but notice the cuts and bruises on Bucky’s face. Now being on his right side, I could see another faded bruise hiding behind his stubble. All I could think of were snapshots of the room we found him in, and I didn’t even realize I was speaking until I heard myself.

"Also, um, not to be forward, but I think you should stop by the med tent before getting some shut-eye," I said, hesitating as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, silently asking me to elaborate.

"I, uh, noticed a few cuts on your face and…I just can't forget the way Steve and I found you," I said, trying to keep my tone gentle. Bucky tensed up, and I hurried on, "But that’s obviously up to you, I—"

"I appreciate the concern, Y/N, and I know you’re trying to look out for Steve’s best friend," Bucky said, his voice losing every ounce of confidence it had a minute ago. "I’m alright, I just need to clean myself up."

"Okay," I responded softly, "but you might want to head in the other direction. You’re headed directly for the Colonel’s personal tent."

Bucky’s eyes widened as he noticed the “COL. C. PHILLIPS” banner that hung above the entrance. His cheeks flushed a light pink, and I couldn’t help but smile as he spun around, heading back the way we came.

"That would be correct, thank you," he said, giving me an embarrassed smile before walking away.

As I watched him head back toward the center of camp, I remembered my own hands were in pretty bad shape. ‘I’m a damn hypocrite,’ I thought, glancing at my blistered, irritated palms. They popped at some point during the night and tried to scab, but they honestly just needed to be cleaned and wrapped so any infection wouldn't spread. I already accepted the fact that these will, without a doubt, scar horribly. Letting Bucky have his alone time, I made sure to take the long route to the medical tent.

----

Later that night, I sat at Howard's desk with the papers I had obtained from the lab scattered all around. I laid the crumpled ones under heavy books as soon as I could after getting my palms wrapped this morning, and they were finally flat enough to read in the somewhat dim lamplight.

I found myself thanking my lucky stars that I had been forced to study foreign languages in high school. My father was the academic type, while my mother was the educated social butterfly. When my father wasn’t with me or Howard in the lab, our mother was relentlessly teaching us that to succeed in any field, we needed to be able to communicate with as many people as possible.

Since I had lived at home longer than my brother and thankfully avoided boarding school, she had me studying with college professors almost every evening. Surprisingly, the two languages I excelled in most were German and Russian, with Italian being a close third. As much as I hated to admit it, my mother’s intense lessons proved to be extremely useful. Even now, while stationed in Italy at a US Army camp, she might be looking down at me with a “told you so” expression as I translate these German notes and blueprints.

As I reviewed all of the papers, it became glaringly obvious that whoever this man was, he was trying to recreate Erskine's serum. During my first degree, I studied both chemistry and molecular biology, but it was clear that this man was jotting down formula after formula without success. Looking at the blueprints, my engineering background allowed me to recognize the inhumane nature of what this man was attempting to create.

He also had disturbing notes about Bucky. "No wonder he got so uncomfortable when I tried to talk to him about it before," I thought. "This... this qualifies as human torture."

The man had scrawled notes about the machinery I saw in the lab, describing how he "electrocuted the subject for obedience" and attempted "temporary amnesia through electromagnetic waves."

Chills ran down my spine as I read the notes, and I was so absorbed in them that I didn’t even notice the tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't know Bucky personally, but from everything Steve had told me about him, I couldn’t understand why this was happening to him.

The heavy wooden chair screeched across the floor as I stood and walked to the filing cabinet. I grabbed an empty folder, stuffed all the papers inside, and labeled it "Nov. '43 - Hydra Lab Notes" before tossing it in.

I turned off the lamp and hurriedly made my way out of the tent, quickly wiping any remnants of tears that were still lingering on my cheeks. It was close to 11 p.m., and the camp was nearly silent except for the sporadic snoring and the chirping of crickets. I walked over to the tent set up for the USO tour, where the Army had draped a tarp down the middle to give me one side and Steve the other.

I heard his light snores from the other side of the tarp and quietly changed into my thick military pajamas before getting under the blankets. The notes about Bucky kept replaying in my mind, my thoughts consumed by the image of what he might have endured in that grim lab.

I don't know how long it took for me to drift off, but before I knew it, the blaring trumpets and sounds of soldiers filled my ears as everyone packed up the camp and prepared to head for London.

Chapter Text

It had been about a week since Steve and I had rescued the 107th from Hydra, and we were now at the SSR's underground headquarters in London. The main room was filled with giant maps of the war front, with known bases marked by red 'H' flags. Steve was debriefing with Peggy, Colonel Phillips, and other officials about the rescue. Meanwhile, I was in the back lab with Howard as he fiddled with one of the little glowing devices I had snagged from the factory.

"So, you're Captain America's sidekick now, huh?" he asked as I picked at the blistered scabs on my hands. My head snapped up at his comment, my brows furrowing.

"What do you mean?" I answered immediately, Howard giving me a 'really?' look. "Well, I mean, yeah, I helped him break into a Hydra facility to save some men, but I wouldn’t call myself his sidekick—"

"Y/N, come on," he exclaimed. "The papers are calling you two heroes! Steve told me about all the guys you shot and how you saved his ass a handful of times. I think that qualifies as sidekick material. Not to mention, it was nearly four hundred men you two rescued, not just a few."

I rolled my eyes as he spoke, knowing full well that I had done those things, but wondering why he was bringing it up now.

"Do you have something to talk to me about, Howard?" I asked, knowing that when he brings up things out of nowhere like this, he tends to ramble and breadcrumb until you ask him what he knows. He loves being the center of attention, and when he knows something you don’t, he really wants to show off that he does.

"Well, I think Steve has something to tell you—or rather, ask you," he responded, his eyes focused on a tiny screw he was putting into place. I looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, and just then Steve walked into the lab.

"Y/N, Howard," he greeted as he walked up to the table where we were both sitting.

"Hey, blondie," I responded, making him crack a smile.

"Uh, Y/N/N, can I talk to you?" he asked with a hint of worry in his tone. I turned on the stool I was sitting on to face him, now a bit concerned.

"Of course, Steve. Is something wrong?"

"No, no," he started with a chuckle. "I just have a question—or request. I want to know if you could, well, not exactly 'can,' but more like, would you be willing—"

"I'm taking this to the more secure lab," Howard said, waving the metal device and getting up from his seat, "and Steve? Maybe rehearse a little next time," he added as he swung the door open and let it slam behind him.

Steve's face turned bright red as he laughed and looked down at his feet. I felt my palms get sweaty and my heart beat a little faster as I anxiously awaited whatever he had to 'request' of me.

"Okay, Steve, just spit it out," I said with a breath. "You're making me nervous."

"Sorry," he responded as he took a deep breath. "Well, first, I wanna thank you for going with me to save Bucky and the others. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. You’ve also been by my side since day one with this whole super soldier thing, and honestly, I trust you more than most."

He paused, and I nodded for him to continue.

"Especially since you were with me in the Hydra factory. You know what they’re capable of, and their weapons… you know what Schmidt is capable of," he said, wiping his hands on his pants. "The SSR is now tasked with finding that main Hydra base, and Phillips specifically asked me to 'wipe Hydra off the map.'"

"Oh God, Steve, that’s quite the mission..." I said, trailing off.

"I know it is," he said. "He said he was putting together a team of the best men, but honestly, I have my own team of people in mind."

As he said those last words, he looked up and met my widening eyes.

"Wait, wait, wait... you’re not thinking... Rogers, you can’t be serious—"

"Y/N—"

"Steve, I’m not even registered with the Army! I’m not some SSR agent! What makes you think—"

"I already talked to Phillips, Y/N. All you need to do is sign off on the paperwork, and they’ll stamp your tags, and—"

"Who else?" I asked bluntly. "If I say yes, I want to know who’s on this team of yours."

Steve stopped talking and looked at me with wide eyes. "Right now, ideally, it’d be you, Buck, Dugan, Gabe Jones, Jim Morita, Falsworth, and Frenchie."

I took a deep breath as I recognized all the names—skilled and dedicated soldiers. "Are you sure about this? About me? I’m not a soldier, Steve..."

"Y/N/N, I wouldn’t have asked you if I hadn’t thought it through. Hell, I even ran it by Howard, who actually encouraged me to ask," he said with a reassuring smile.

I looked down at my feet and caught myself going to pick at my scabs, stopping the anxious tick. Seeing this, Steve grabbed my hands and held them, his palms as clammy as mine. He ran his fingers over the scars forming on my hands, his lips forming a thin line.

"You know how you never gave up on me when I was a 95-pound asthmatic?" he said, his eyes shooting up to mine. "How you came with me on the USO Tour and supported me while I sang those God-awful songs, feeling like I was nothing more than a dancing monkey? … Y/N, I believe in you. You yourself said, 'Don’t underestimate me, Rogers,’" he recalled, making me chuckle at the memory. "I believe that one of my best friends can help me take down Hydra. What do you say?"

Taking a deep breath, my mind raced as I considered Steve’s question. 'Abe would want me to do it,' I thought.

My mind flashed back to the night we recruited Steve, how I stood on that lightbox in the enlistment area and couldn’t see myself in the mirror’s reflection. I had always wanted to be more than Howard’s sister, and no matter how hard I tried to prove it to myself and others, I always seemed to come up short... but this, this could be my chance.

"Steve," I started, taking a deep breath, "I’m in." He squeezed and released my hands as a smile spread across his face. I looked at the ground and then back up at him with a smile. "You know, it’s funny how Hydra thought that splitting up companies and mixing up soldiers from all over would make their lives easier, huh? Our ragtag group that met thanks to them is about to be the biggest pain in their ass."

"Hydra doesn’t know what’s coming, Y/N/N," he said with a smug smile as he took a few steps back toward the door. "I’ll make sure to tell the Colonel to expedite your paperwork and add you to the list for gear fittings."

Steve spun on his heels and walked to the door, opening it before turning back to me. "Oh, and Y/N?"

"Mhm?"

"Everyone is going to Whip & Fiddle tonight, you know, if you want to swing by," he offered.

"Maybe. I might have plans with Peggy though," I answered. Steve nodded with a soft smile and shut the door behind him. As he did, I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

'I’m a part of Captain America’s team... I’m in the Army?' I thought as I looked around the empty room in somewhat disbelief at what I had just agreed to, '...Holy shit.'

----

"Peg, I'm pretty sure this isn't a fancy night out on the town," I said to her as we walked down the street, "we might be a little overdressed."

Our heels clicked against the pavement as we made our way down to the pub. She wore a form-fitting red dress, her lips glistening her signature color. I had on something a little tighter in navy, the hem hitting just at my knees. My hair was curled and pinned back on one side, and my lips were a deep red.

"Y/N, this is the last night in God-knows-how-long that you're not going to be in tactical gear slinging a gun over your shoulder, I don't care if we're overdressed," she sassed. I inhaled deeply and smirked, and she looked over smirking as well.

As we approached the entrance of Whip & Fiddle, my stomach began to do tiny flips. There was just something about walking into a bar full of men – specifically men I'll be fighting on a team with – looking like I'm the front-and-center mannequin in the 5th Ave Macy's window.

Peggy walked in the door first, and as it swung open, the singing and the light notes of the piano filled my ears. Within seconds of walking into the pub, dozens of eyes were on us. The further we walked in, the less singing came from the men. I didn't show an inkling of nervousness as I walked in with my shoulders back and my gaze forward.

As we made our way to the back, I saw two familiar heads pop out from behind the archway, definitely looking to see what, or rather who, made all of the noise come to a halt. Both Bucky and Steve rose from their stools as we stood in the archway, their gazes focused on us.

"Captain," Peggy said, walking up to Steve.

"Agent Carter," he responded, "Y/N," he said to me as I nodded at him.

"Ladies," Bucky greeted politely, looking both of us up and down.

"Barnes," I said back, earning a slight smirk from him. I stood next to Peg as she faced Steve completely, and as always, the two of them entered their own little world.

"Howard has some equipment for you to try. How's tomorrow morning?" she asked him.

"Sounds good," he responded softly.

Peggy turned and looked at the table filled with the other members of Steve's selected team. I watched as Steve studied her in complete awe since this was the first time she hadn't been in her SSR uniform in front of him.

I felt Bucky's eyes burning into me, and as I went to look at him, his eyes darted away. He glanced at Peggy and then at Steve before looking at the floor. He quickly followed Peggy's gaze to our team who had resumed their singing, definitely trying to play off his staring.

"I see most of your top squad is preparing for duty," Peggy said matter-of-factly.

"You don't like music?" Bucky asked her.

"I do, actually," she lightly sassed, quickly looking at Steve's lips and then up to his eyes, "I might even, when all of this is over, go dancing."

As she said this, I couldn't help but turn to look at her. 'Is she really referring to their car conversation? From the day Steve got the serum?' I thought.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Bucky asked, but Peggy's eyes didn't budge from Steve. As he said this, I felt the temperature slightly rise in my body, a tinge of jealousy slithering its way in at his flirtatious comment.

"The right partner," she answered simply. 

'Oh my God, she did reference it.'

She and Steve held eye contact as the smallest smile appeared on his face, "0800, Captain," she said before turning to me, "and I'll catch up with you later." With that, Peggy headed right for the exit.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll be there," Steve responded as we heard her heels click against the floor. Bucky watched her leave as I leaned on the counter and placed my bag beside me.

"So, what are we drinking tonight, boys?" I asked them as they both turned back around and leaned on the bar, Bucky between me and Steve.

"Well, I'm not drinking," Steve answered, slightly raising his water.

"And I'm having whisky neat," Bucky added. I raised my eyebrows and nodded, and with perfect timing, the bartender approached us.

"What can I get you, ma'am?" He asked while wiping a glass with a rag.

"I'll have what he's having," I answered, pointing down at Bucky's glass. The bartender nodded as Bucky's head snapped towards me in disbelief.

"You drink straight whisky?" he asked me, his words dripping with disbelief.

"Oh, yeah, I love a good Scotch whisky. Believe it or not, it’s actually my drink of choice," I answered. "You can ask the Star-Spangled Man, I usually had it straight or with ginger ale at every USO tour party."

"Indeed she did," Steve confirmed.

Bucky took a sip of his drink and looked over at me. "Well, then let the first one be on me."

"I thought it already was," I said looking him right in the eyes, a smile teasing my lips. After seeing him flirt with Peggy right in front of Steve and me, I felt a tad villainous.

Bucky held eye contact longer than he usually does, giving me the chance to really look into his eyes.

They were an icy, sharp blue, but they were so welcoming at the same time. I noticed the emotion dancing in them, seeing how he silently could convey any feeling and whoever was looking into his eyes would know. Right now, flames were flickering behind the bright blue, knowing damn well I was the one who ignited the small fire.

Bucky cracked a smirk and slightly rolled his eyes, thinking that I wouldn't notice while taking another sip of his liquor. Steve leaned on the bar with one elbow and turned towards me, his best friend between us being the oblivious one.

Steve had a little smile on his face with one eyebrow slightly raised. I smiled back and lightly laughed, and with perfect timing, the bartender placed my whiskey in front of me.

"Thank you, sir," I said taking the glass and raising it to Steve and Bucky, "cheers, soldiers."

With that, I took the whole thing down in one swig. I placed the empty glass on the counter and smiled at the bartender, "I'll have another please, this time with a splash of water. Top shelf."

The man blinked a few times at me before nodding, registering what he had just seen. I turned to the guys and saw Bucky staring at me in shock, his lips slightly parted. Steve stood beside him trying to suppress a laugh, having seen me do this with politicians and random celebrities throughout the tour.

I chuckled and waved my hand in front of Bucky's face, "Helloooo, Earth to Barnes."

He blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat, "I-uh was not expecting that," he said, cracking a smile, "if you'll excuse me real quick."

As Bucky walked off towards the back where I assumed the bathroom was, Steve's judging eyes burned into me.

"What?" I questioned as he tried to hide a smile and shook his head at me.

"Y'know, you're not very good at hiding your jealousy," he commented before taking a sip of his water.

"Jealousy? What're you talking about, blondie?"

"Oh come on, Y/N,” he groaned with a smile, “you're gonna tell me you weren't the least bit bothered by him flirtin’ with Peg? It's like second nature for him, I’d be confused if he didn’t." As Steve said that, I turned my head forward and took a big sip of the drink that was just placed in front of me,

"Plus, you knocked back the full glass of whisky like you didn't know it was gonna do something for him," Steve added, causing me to choke on the drink and look over at him, "I picked up on your little moves during the tour, you're not slick."

We both started laughing together, knowing he was fully correct, "So what if I was a bit jealous, huh? Why are you bringing it up?" I questioned. He raised both his eyebrows and looked down at his drink.

"Oh. I, uh, no reason really, I just-" he stammered as I raised my eyebrows at him waiting for an answer. Steve swallowed hard before continuing, "Buck was just uh, um, talking about, y'know, you earlier, and uh, it's funny you got jealous becau-"

"So, I can't hide my jealousy and you can't hide things from me," I said, cutting him off with a smirk, "y'know, as teammates now, it's good to know each other's weaknesses."

As I finished my sentence, Bucky turned the corner of the bar and returned to his place between Steve and me. Seeing I had my second drink, he smiled and held his glass up for a proper cheers. Clinking the drinks together, we held eye contact from the moment the glasses touched until the moment our lips left the rims. 

Setting the glass down, I glance at my watch and grab my bag, Bucky noticing. I tossed a few English bills on the counter before standing and smoothing out my dress.

"As much as I'd love to stay and get belligerently drunk with the two of you, I should probably get back considering tomorrow's busy schedule."

"It's late, let me walk you back," Bucky said as he tossed a few pounds on the counter for the bartender.

"Oh, Barnes it's fine, I can manage," I responded, brushing off his comment.

"Hey, it's late, and I don't want you walking by yourself," he started but quickly added, "I was gonna head out soon anyway since I have an early report time."

"Buck, we all have the same report time," Steve added, causing Bucky to give him a look.

I smiled and looked at my feet before looking up at him, "if you insist, Sarge," I said with a smile before waving bye to Steve, "see you in the morning, Rogers."

Steve gave a tight closed-lipped smile to both of us before we turned and made our way through the pub. Most of our new team had already left, except Morita who was asleep on the table.

Bucky chuckled as we walked past him and out the door, the cold air shocking me a bit.

"Oh man, that's a breeze," I whispered to myself while crossing my arms for warmth as we walked down the street. The whisky definitely helped with the temperature, but damn was it cold.

"Here," Bucky said rustling off his jacket, "wear this, you'll be warmer."

"Barnes, I'm fine," I responded not realizing he heard me. "It's not that far of a walk anyway, I'm at the hotel a few blocks down."

"I'm giving you the jacket, Y/N," he said as he swiftly side-stepped behind me and draped it over my shoulders, "and please, it's Bucky," he softly added, still standing behind me. As the fabric met my shoulders his cologne engulfed my senses, and I didn’t realize I inhaled until the warmth of the scent spread throughout my body leaving goosebumps.

I looked over at him as he stepped beside me again, giving him a warm smile, "thank you.”

He grinned letting out a small, breathy laugh, and looked down at his feet before we both continued to walk down the cobblestone street.

We walked in comfortable silence for a little, letting the sounds of passing cars and light winds surround us. There wasn't a cloud in the sky tonight, so the moonlight and stars shone down on us. As we walked along, we drifted closer together, our arms gently brushing against each other every so often. 

"So, I'm curious," Bucky began, "why did you and Carter get so dolled up tonight?"

"Well, in the words of Peg herself," I responded gearing up my almost perfect British accent, "'This is the last night in God-knows-how-long that you're not going to be in tactical gear slinging a gun over your shoulder."'

As I mimicked her, Bucky laughed, which caused me to chuckle too. "No other reason?" he asked. I pursed my lips in thought, something immediately coming to mind.

"Personally, I think she wanted to dress up for Steve and didn't want to do it alone," I answered looking forward and raising my eyebrows, "but hey, she's just lucky I kept at least one evening dress with me instead of sending all of them back to the States."

"She isn't the only lucky one," Bucky said, causing me to look at him, but he was already looking at me. I felt my cheeks flush as I looked at my feet, a smile creeping onto my lips.

"Oh, please," I said looking back up at him, "don't flatter me, Barnes."

He stopped walking and faced me, causing me to stop in my tracks. He took a step closer as his eyes scanned my face, almost as if he was etching it into his memory. As he connected his eyes with mine, his hand moved up and tucked a ringlet of hair behind my ear, my breath hitching in my throat.

"I told you to call me Bucky," he said in a low yet soft tone. My lips slightly parted as I inhaled and little butterflies fluttered in my stomach. His light blue eyes deepened a bit, and I could see the little flames dancing like they were earlier tonight. The butterflies soon disappeared when he broke eye contact and looked up at the building behind me,

"...and this seems to be your stop," he said, causing me to look back. The hotel lobby was lit up with the doorman standing just inside to stay out of the cold.

"So it does," I responded softly, "thank you for walking me back, Bucky."

He smirked when I said his name, his eyes flickering from his shoes to up at me, "My pleasure, Y/N," he said, still smirking, taking a step back.

I smiled at him and turned to walk inside, feeling his eyes burn into the back of me.

"Y/N, by the way!" Bucky yelled out as I reached for the door handle.

"Yeah?" I answered, turning around.

"You look absolutely gorgeous tonight," he said with a soft smile, causing my own to spread across my face as I lightly shook my head at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, get back safe," I said, making him respond with a cheeky grin and a dramatic salute. I stood chuckling as he spun on his heels and walked back towards the pub, only being brought back to reality when the doorman pushed open the big glass door.

Chapter Text

I rummaged through another one of the filing cabinets that had been transported back from the camp in Italy, still unable to find the folder of notes from the Hydra factory.

“Goddammit...” I muttered while shutting the top drawer and opening the next one down. I wanted Howard to take a look at them, but I wasn’t having any luck locating the folder. I also woke up in a cold sweat the night before, images of when Steve and I found Bucky in Austria flashing in my dreams.

I stood out like a sore thumb in the main office upstairs, every woman dressed in their olive-green uniform while I was in my 'civilian' attire. I heard Peggy’s voice as my fingers ran through the never-ending folder tabs.

“Looks like finding a partner wasn’t that hard after all.”

“Peggy, that’s not what you thought it was,” Steve replied. ‘Oh Jesus, what did he do?’ I thought.

I pushed the metal drawer shut and followed them. The woman sorting the mail glared up at me when the drawer slammed, probably wishing I’d been more graceful. I couldn’t hear all of what they were saying as I tried to catch up to them, weaving between countless other people who filled the common space.

“…you always wanted to be a soldier and now you are, like all the rest.”

“Well, what about you and Stark?” Steve began, “How do I know the two of you haven’t been fondue-ing?”

I felt my body cringe at his comment, which made Peggy stop walking and turn to look at him. Her eyes quickly glanced at me before returning to Steve, and then she rolled them and walked away.

I came up on Steve’s left and followed Peg. I turned to look at him with a “what the hell” expression. He furrowed his eyebrows and watched me speed-walk by him and follow Peggy.

“You still don’t know a bloody thing about women,” she said as she walked through the ‘Restricted Entry’ door that led down to the lab. The MP moved aside to let her through and nodded at me as I finally caught up to her.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked her as we quickly went down the metal stairs.

“Why don’t you ask Private Bimbo?” Peggy sassed, stepping off the bottom step and heading toward one of the offices on the outskirts of the working area.

“You mean Lorraine?” I replied as we walked into the empty room, shutting the door behind me. By Peggy’s lack of response and her white-knuckled grip, I was correct. “Peg, I’m pretty sure she’s the broad Howard’s been—”

“Then why was she kissing Steve?” she spat. “Can you answer me that?”

I stood there with my eyebrows raised and my jaw dropped. “…what?”

“Honestly, when you think a man isn’t disgusting and full of himself like the rest of them! Last night was so nice, and I thought we really had a moment, or am I crazy?” she yelled while pacing around the office. “You were there in the car that day; you knew my reference! He got it too, and then he goes and—and he pulls this shit?!”

Peggy leaned on the desk with both hands and looked over at me. I stood there with my arms crossed, looking at her.

“Just admit it, Peg... you like him,” I said with a smile itching at the corner of my lips. She rolled her eyes at me and groaned, her hand now on the doorknob.

“If I admit that, it's unprofessional,” she said just above a whisper, “and if I don’t, then well I’m just unhappy and living in delusion.”

“Peg, I don’t think it’s—”

“No, it would be, and suddenly everything I’ve worked so hard to obtain goes down the damn drain!”

I inhaled at her statement, understanding the exact notion she meant. She was already a woman in a man’s world, and anything relating to romantic involvement with anyone, let alone Captain America, would be detrimental if done so in front of the wrong people. She just held eye contact with me, and with nothing else to say, turned the knob and swung the door open.

I followed as she left the room, and we made our way toward the work area where Howard was looking at Steve holding what seemed to be a shield on his arm.

“Quite finished, Mr. Stark?” Peggy said, her voice ringing through the room and causing the guys to turn and look at her. “I’m sure the Captain has some unfinished business.”

“What do ya think?” Steve asked with a dumb smile on his face, holding the shield up to his torso.

I stood beside Peggy and watched her face remain impassive. Then she picked up a handgun and fired four bullets right at Steve.

My arm flew up to cover my face, and I saw Howard do the same. When the ricochet noise ceased, I looked up to see the bullets squashed on the ground and Steve’s head rising from behind the shield with his eyebrows furrowed.

Peggy let out a deep breath. “Yes, I think it works.”

She walked toward Steve with a straight face and right past him, while Howard and I came up on his side, all three of us watching her walk away.

“I, uh, had some ideas about the uniform,” Steve said, handing Howard a piece of paper.

“Whatever you want, pal,” Howard answered while taking the paper, his eyes still glued to Peggy.

I glanced down at my watch and saw it was almost 9 o’clock, which meant Steve and I had a gear fitting appointment with the rest of the team.

“Well fellas, I’m heading upstairs to get measured and fitted. You coming, Blondie?” I said, lightly jabbing Steve in the ribs to get his attention.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, let’s go,” he responded after blinking a few times. I chuckled and patted his shoulder as we walked upstairs to meet up with the rest of the squad.

—-

Whoever organized this fitting had brought in a female tailor for me, and I couldn’t have been more thankful. I stood on the small pedestal as she folded fabric and pinned it back. Most of the gear they had on hand was all men’s, so the woman had to clip back chunks of thick fabric to make any piece of clothing fit.

A curtain surrounded us, blocking us off from the guys who were all together on the other side. As the woman made chalk lines on my pants and pinned them, I could tell she was holding something back. The hesitation on her face was evident; I saw it through how she would look up at me and how her eyebrows would move, but then her lips would go into a thin line as she went back to work.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” I asked, looking down. Her eyes darted to mine, and her face turned a light pink.

“It’s nothing, really... but,” she started but stopped herself. I raised my eyebrows, signaling her to continue. “I have a ten-year-old daughter, quite the firecracker... Ever since the war started, she always tells us how she wants to fight the ‘bad guys’ and win the war, but my husband always yells back at her, ‘Girls don’t fight, Mary! They let the men do the fighting while they stay home!’”

The woman paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “But when I was called to help make your uniform, oh, I was over the moon... The first woman on the front lines, fighting alongside Captain America nonetheless,” she said, smiling up at me. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re changing history, sweetheart, and you’re going to be a role model for little girls everywhere. You’re lettin’ them know they can be more than military nurses and mothers.”

I sniffled and smiled at her as I stepped off the pedestal, grabbing her hands. “Thank you for telling me that. It means more than you know.”

We both lightly laughed, and I wiped under my eyes. The woman squeezed my hands with a determined smile. “Now let me get to work so this can be ready for tomorrow morning before you lot head out.”

I nodded and smiled as she helped me carefully remove the marked-up gear before changing back into my clothes.

Walking out from behind the curtain, I saw the guys standing in their new uniforms, except for Bucky and Steve. I wasn’t sure why Bucky wasn’t here, but Howard was making a specific uniform for Steve, so he only needed to get measured.

The others didn’t know my gear had to be altered, so when I walked back out in my skirt and blouse, their faces were contorted with surprise.

“Y/N, there’s no way you’re wearing that to fight in a war!” Dugan exclaimed as he adjusted the collar of his turtleneck.

“Well, Dum Dum, the only tactical gear this place has right now is men’s, so I have to wait for the tailor to finish mine,” I responded, giving him a tight smile.

The guys started laughing, with Gabe clutching his chest and Falsworth almost doubling over.

“HA! Dum Dum Dugan... that’s gonna stick,” Morita said, trying to catch his breath from laughing.

Dugan glared at me before smiling and lightly pushing my shoulder. I smiled back and was about to say something when an MP entered the room.

“Stark,” he said, making all our heads snap to him. “The Colonel needs to see you.”

The men went silent as I nodded at them and followed the MP upstairs to Phillips’ office. The MP opened the door, and I walked in, shutting it behind me. Phillips sat behind his desk with a thick folder and an envelope.

“I was told you wanted to see me?” I asked, sitting in one of the chairs in front of him. He took a deep breath and pushed the folder across the desk with a pen on top of it.

“You need to sign these before you head out,” he said, flipping it open to reveal my enlistment paperwork. I took a deep breath and looked up at him, his eyes already burning into me.

“Of course...” I mumbled as I pulled the folder onto my lap and began reading over everything.

I lost count of how many times I had to sign and print my name, but I sat in that chair for about thirty minutes. Phillips sat at his desk, reading over something I couldn’t see, and looked up when he heard the folder land back on his desk.

“Well, that’s out of the way,” I said with a small smile. He raised his eyebrows, took the folder, and placed it on his side of the desk. Then he got up and walked around with the envelope in his hand.

I stood up as he came around and handed it to me. My eyebrows furrowed. “What’s th—”

“Something every soldier needs,” he replied, cutting me off.

I opened the envelope and tilted it. Shiny stamped dog tags landed in my hands. I had thought getting fitted for gear or signing my life away would make it set in, but seeing the dog tags with my name stamped on them... oh my.

I ran my fingers over "S T A R K   Y / N   M/I" as my eyes shot down to my ID number.

“12860933... you put me through as a regular Army soldier?” I said, looking up at Phillips. He already had the smallest smile, probably because he saw me realize there was an eight-digit number with a '1' at the front instead of the six-digit Women’s Army Corps number.

“Well, you’re fighting alongside other Army soldiers; it’s only right that you’re identified as such,” he responded, glancing down at the tags and then back up at me.

“Thank you,” I said before sliding the tags back into the envelope. Phillips nodded, cleared his throat, and turned back around.

“Alright, get going. I have a, uh, meeting,” he said while shuffling papers around on his desk. I got up and opened the door, standing in the doorway.

“Of course, sir,” I said, causing him to look up with furrowed brows.

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’ Y/N. Only my men call me—” he started to say before he caught himself. He looked down at the desk and then back up at me.

I stood there leaning on the door frame. “Colonel,” I said, standing up straight and saluting him.

“Stark,” he responded, a sad smile on his face. I nodded and shut his door, walking down the hall with my dog tags in hand.

Chapter Text

The clock struck 8 pm as I sat at one of the metal tables in the SSR lab. Howard insisted I hang around with him since it was the night before the team and I left. He stood on the other side of the room welding something and wouldn't tell me what, but he was over there for almost the entire time I’ve been here.

"Howard, are ya almost done?" I asked while picking my nails.

"Gimme just...another...second...aaand," he said standing up, "done." He flipped the face-covering up and put down the hand tool. He turned to me and waved me over.

"Finally," I said getting up, "I'm so curious to see what took up all of your time."

"Just a little something," he responded with a smug smile, "look."

He stood in front of a new gun, and my eyes followed his finger to a label that he put on the butt end of it.

"Property of Y/N Stark..." I read, my eyes darting up to my brother, "Oh my god, Howard, you didn't have to."

"Eh, I wanted to," he said, hugging me, and I squeezed him a little tighter before pulling away. My eyes darted back to the label though, and more written underneath my name.

"U.S. Army Howling Commandos," I mumbled, "Is that supposed to be a name for something?"

"It's what Steve told me to put, the 107th guys came up with it for themselves while they were on the front. He liked it though so he decided to keep it."

"Hmm, Howling Commandos...has a nice ring to it," I said, running my fingers over the metal.

"Well, let's go have a drink to celebrate your last night here, what do ya say?" he suggested, swinging his arm around my neck and dragging me towards the door.

"Sounds like a fantastic plan to me," I answered, grinning at my older brother as we slowly walked up the stairs.

----

I woke up to a loud knock on my door, swinging myself out of bed to answer it. My head was a little foggy, but I was more responsible than my brother last night – I at least left when the establishment was still open. When I looked through the peephole no one was there, but when I opened the door, a large brown paper bundle was in the doorway.

I picked up the package and brought it inside, plopping it on the bed. The clock read 4:45, which meant I had an hour and fifteen minutes until report time to head out. I ripped open the package and saw my perfectly folded tactical gear and uniform.

"Wow..." I breathed out running my fingers over the material.

I laid the clothes out on the bed to see everything, and man, was I excited. The tailor had made me a black tactical jacket with special pockets for ammunition. Inside was a removable navy vest with a ton of pockets, and it also had a removable lining for the cold weather. She also included a maroon shoulder strap for my gun, with "Give 'em Hell" stitched onto it.

Looking at the jacket, I saw a goldish-yellow patch on the sleeve. Turning it outward to see better, I realized the group’s insignia was stitched into the jacket's left sleeve. I ran my fingers over the thread, the logo almost replicating a wing. The pure excitement of seeing all of this instantly woke me up, so I scooped up everything I was wearing and scurried to the bathroom.

At 5:50 on the nose, I drove into the Allies camp outside London in one of the military GPW Jeeps. Everyone was bunched up in groups when I pulled up: Peggy talked with the Colonel and Dugan; Bucky and Steve were standing together; and Howard oversaw the other three with a few random soldiers as they loaded equipment into the back of the truck.

As soon as I cut the engine, everyone's heads snapped to me. Hopping out of the Jeep, I swung my gun over my shoulder, grabbed my duffle out of the back, and walked up to everyone.

My hair was pinned back and up, and my jacket was unzipped revealing the buckled vest. The thick, black tailored pants rose to my belly button, and the package also included a brown belt with removable holsters. The Army also provided me with leather boots, and as I walked, I heard my tags lightly ding against each other as they hung outside my vest.

"Please don't tell me you were all waiting on me," I said approaching everyone.

When no one answered, I glanced around at their faces. Peggy and Howard's eyebrows were raised, and the rest of the men were frozen like I had stopped time. I could tell from my brother and Peg that seeing me in gear and getting ready to be with the group had finally sunk in. Bucky and Steve were also looking at me, Steve with a slight smile and Bucky with his lips slightly parted.

I smiled and looked at the ground making my way over to the truck. The team didn't move from their spots as I tossed my duffle into the back, and they watched me walk over to Steve and Bucky before returning to what they had been doing.

"We're still set to head out at 6, right?" I asked, looking between the two of them. Steve nodded and cleared his throat snapping Bucky back to reality as he blinked a few times.

"Yeah, we're going to head out in a few," Steve said looking at me and smiling, "I'm going to go say bye to Peg and the Colonel."

Steve walked away leaving me with Bucky. His lips turned into a small smirk as his eyes quickly looked me up and down. There were bags under his eyes, and within a blink, I had a flashback of him strapped to that gurney for a millisecond. My breath hitched, and I could see the smallest ounce of concern in his eyes.

“You okay? Jitters about heading out or…?”

“Nah, just got one of those random chills, y’know? I’m not really a morning person if I’m being honest, so my body thinks it's still waking up,” I lied as I used my hand as a visor to block the morning sun from my eyes.

"Ah, I gotcha,” he nodded, a smile now curling his lips. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. "Well, on the bright side, seems like you’re one of the few who can pull off both an evening dress and tactical uniform, quite well too."

Bashfulness took over as I exhaled and looked at my feet, a smile now gracing my face, “Glad to know you’re someone who thinks I can pull off the looks, Buck.”

"Tailor did a great job, seriously,” he said, “heard Dugan thought you were wearing one of your pretty skirts to go to war.” 

“You think my skirts are pretty?” I quipped. My smile met my eyes, and I could see the flirtatious hesitation as we looked at each other. His tongue quickly wet his bottom lip, and as I was about to respond I heard my name in a shout from across the lot.

"Y/N/N! We're almost done loading 'er up, come here!" Howard yelled from the truck. Bucky's eyes were still on me as I looked over at my brother. I turned back to him to see a straight face and his icy blues piercing through me. I inhaled sharply, which earned a smirk from him.

"Shall we?" Bucky said, motioning towards the truck. I rolled my eyes at him and we started walking towards Howard who was standing at the back end of the truck bed.

"Sis, you're the responsible one of this group, so I'm telling you this," he started, "I packed away two cameras with the group's gear, one for photos and one for recording. Brandt and the President specifically requested footage of your missions and travels," Howard said as he pointed to the leather chest with the big 'Stark Industries' embossed into the side.

"So, essentially, you want me to be the camera lady?" I said back.

"Oh God no! I'm just telling you because these lug nuts will forget the cameras exist by lunchtime."

"Hey! Who you callin' a lug nut, smartass?" Morita said while jumping off the truck.

Howard raised his eyebrows and turned to me, "And that is my cue to head out."

I chuckled and opened my arms for a hug, my brother happily obliged.

"I'm gonna miss ya, kid," Howard mumbled as he squeezed a little tighter, "Promise me you'll be safe out there, no crazy stunts or anything."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful," I said as we separated, "I'm gonna miss you too."

“I will say, it shook me a little bit to see you in tac gear. Y’know, it’s…” he breathed out, “you’re my little sister in soldier’s clothes.”

“I know, Howard,” I said pulling him back in for another hug, “you’re still my big brother.”

Pulling back, I glanced over to see Steve and Peggy saying goodbye, and Howard followed my line of vision. "I'll tell her you said bye…gotta let her have this little moment to make up for shooting at the guy."

I chuckled and nudged him as two men tied down the back of the truck's tarp. Bucky was driving the truck behind us with the rest of the team while Dugan drove the supply truck with me, and we were following Steve on his motorcycle.

Dugan was already in the front seat making sure everything was all set, and I watched my brother walk over to Phillips before making my way to the front of the truck. As I walked away, I heard two of the soldiers who came to help load up start to whisper.

"Those pants do wonders for her ass."

"Plus the vest? It's huggin’ those curves let me tell ya, bruv."

"Now I know why Rogers wanted her to tag along with them."

"Ya got that right, mate."

I felt the heat rise in my body as I climbed into the cab, slamming the door. Looking into the side mirror, I checked to see exactly who was talking since I didn’t know those voices, but what I saw instead surprised me even more.

Bucky was nose-to-nose with the now red-faced soldiers. I couldn't hear what he was saying over the truck engine, but I saw the panic on the guys' faces and their little nods from both of them. His nostrils were flared and his white knuckles clutched the truck keys.

As they walked away from him, he looked in my direction, and our eyes locked in the side mirror. I gave him a soft smile and mouthed 'thank you.' He gave me a closed-lip smile and a single nod before turning on his heels and walking away.

Within seconds Steve came jogging around the side and swung open my door.

"Y/N, these are for you," he said handing me a little package, "Just so you don't open up your hands again."

I looked at him with an eyebrow raised then at the package before ripping it open. Pulling back the brown paper, in my lap were fingerless leather gloves. Putting them on, I admired how aggressive, and protected, my hands now looked before smiling at Steve.

"The one thing I didn't know I needed," I said, flexing my hand out, "thank you so much, Steve."

"No need to thank me," he said smiling, "now let's get going!" Steve enthusiastically hit the passenger door twice before hopping down from the truck.

"Let's roll, Cap," I said looking down at him with a smile. He chuckled and jogged over to the bike parked in front of our truck. He put his rifle in the bike holster, his pistol in his thigh holster, and put the shield right on his back. 

As Steve revved the motorcycle, Dugan shifted into gear and beeped the horn twice before following Steve out of the camp. We waved bye to Peg, the Colonel, and my brother as we drove through the gate, down the dirt path, and on the way to our first location.

Chapter Text

The first few months on the road with the unit proved to be…an experience. Growing up with a brother did not prepare me for being the only woman in a unit of seven men. Now, did I join in on bickering about sports team rivalries? Absolutely. Was I enjoying the guys wrestling and accidentally lighting their trousers on fire? No, I was not.

All in all, tomfoolery aside, we worked quite cohesively as a unit. Steve was obviously our head honcho; Bucky the marksman; Dugan the close-combat fighter; Gabe the machine gunner; Morita the radioman; Falsworth the strategist; Frenchie the demolition expert; and me, the mechanic. 

I tinkered with anything that was used. Our guns, radios, trucks, bombs, you name it. I was the one to repair, make, bug, improve, or reprogram anything the unit needed. Plus, although Howard said I wouldn't be, I became the unofficial camerawoman. 

We stormed bases and factories, delayed Hydra transports of supplies and weaponry, disrupted radio signals, and more. During every physical encounter, Steve would, without fail, send his shield flying, knocking out a handful of soldiers as it bounced from one clunky helmet to another. It always came right back to his arm, and I don't think I'll ever fully comprehend the physics of vibranium. 

About two months ago, we were patrolling a woodsy area in Czechoslovakia. Being in German-occupied territory was nerve-wracking enough, and along with our unit was a platoon of Allied soldiers. The fourth Hydra base was within 30 miles of our location, so our goal was to scope out the surrounding areas before blowing up and decimating the base and all weaponry. 

The unit was spread out a few feet apart, all of us surveying the ground for landmines, or stray lookout lean-tos Schmidt's men could have built for themselves. All that was heard was the light crunching of our boots in the snow or the stray sniffle from the chilly air. 

Steve walked ahead of the group, and as he froze in place, I did too. I heard the team still moving behind me, but as Steve turned and whipped his shield up at the tree, I couldn’t help but jump a little at the sudden movement. 

I felt a hand on the small of my back as I jumped back, and an exhale on the back of my neck as the now unconscious Hydra lookout plummeted from the tree a few yards away. Goosebumps littered my skin as the light scent of aftershave lingered. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…” Bucky breathed out. I leaned into his touch, my body relaxing at the contact as the shield returned to Steve’s arm.

“How the hell does he see that stuff?” I mumbled, slightly turning towards Bucky. He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head as he looked in awe at his best friend.

"Beats me, I’ll tell ya that much," Bucky grinned, his eyes still locked on Steve.

“Any others Cap?” Gabe asked. Steve turned back and his eyes landed on Bucky and me, the slightest raise of his eyebrows not ignored.

“Not that I can see right now,” he responded, the corners of his mouth ticked up in a smirk. “Let's keep moving, though. We have more ground to cover before signaling the trucks for pickup.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” Morita replied.

“Pick a partner and stay close,” Steve ordered, “if there was one, there’s gonna be more.”

“Dibs on you, Barnes,” I said, “I know you’ve only got your pistol instead of the rifle, but I trust your shot.”

“You better trust my shot, I’m the marksman for Christ’s sake,” he joked with a light bump from his shoulder, his eyes locked with mine as playfulness beamed out of them.

I chuckled as we continued to walk forward, but as my eyes darted to the ground, I lunged forward and yanked Bucky back by his jacket. His eyes widened as his body flew back into mine, his hands landing on my waist to steady us both.

“You won’t be the marksman anymore if you don’t watch where you step,” I said, both of us looking down, “silly little landmines are everywhere.”

“You owe ‘er, Barnes,” Dugan breathed out as he adjusted his hat. We both let out the breaths we didn’t know we were holding. Now realizing we were still chest-to-chest, we stepped back and out of the way of the deathtrap partially hidden by the snow.

“Alright, let’s move,” Steve ordered, locking everyone back into the task at hand.

“Thank you, really,” Bucky muttered, his cheeks flushed. I couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or nervousness, but it made me feel for him all the same.

“It’s what partners do, Buck,” I responded with a soft smile.

“And what a way to start that off, huh?” I shook my head at him as my cheeks now met my eyes, continuing to survey the area surrounding the base. I could still feel his gaze lingering on me though, and I didn’t mind at all.

—-

Three of us sat around a fire, the winter air oddly mild for the time of year. I had just finished setting up my tent and sleeping arrangements, and now I sat between Bucky and Steve with elastic bands and a fine-tooth comb as the orange flames danced around the propped-up wood. Morita and Frenchie were on watch twenty yards away, while Falsworth and Gabe were resting before their shift. Dugan was just straight-up passed out already since he and Steve were on the later shift last night.

“No, I think Gone with the Wind is such a better movie than Wizard of Oz, are you joking?”

“Steve, it's just the Civil War and Scarlett rejecting Rhett until it's convenient for her,” Bucky argued. “Dorothy and the flying monkeys are just so much better.”

“Buck, the poor girl got knocked out during a tornado and is fully dreaming the whole time,” he emphasized, his whole body now facing Bucky.

“No, it’s the beauty of human suffering and coming out on top against all odds,” he argued matter-of-factly, “and that true friendship can be found through kindness, courage, and teamwork.”

“Buck, what book did you memorize that philosophical explanation out of?” I asked while taking the pins out of the right side of my head. I was halfway through French braiding my hair when dinner was finished, so now it was time to do the other side of my head. 

“It was probably something Rebecca said that he’s regurgitating,” Steve teased, his sassy eyebrows raised, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Rebecca?” I asked, glancing over at Bucky. I saw Steve’s eyes dart between us, and I kept my gaze on Bucky so as not to draw attention to the nature of my question.

“My younger sister,” he clarified, oblivious, “and we may or may not have had a conversation about it years ago, but that doesn’t weaken my argument. It’s better than Gone with the Wind.”

“I mean, I will say, Clark Gable is a tool,” I added, hair woven between my fingers. Both men looked at me with wild, questionable eyes. “I’ve met him a handful of times, like when I’ve had to attend events with Howard.”

“Same type of event where you met Joe DiMaggio?” Steve quipped. Bucky’s eyes widened, and disbelief was written across his face at the name that had just come out of Steve’s mouth.

“Yes, actually,” I responded, “but he’s honestly nice to talk to.”

Steve gave a tired chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood. “On that note, I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you two bright and early, goodnight.” 

Bucky and I mumbled our goodnights as the sound of his boots against the cold ground got further away, and the sound of a tent flap moving met our ears.

“Steve’s acting like he didn’t go mute when I introduced him to Judy Garland during the tour,” I shared, “yet he has the nerve to give you shit about Wizard of Oz.”

Bucky playfully glared before shaking his head, “That punk never fails to surprise me, let me tell ya.”

“He’s a riot sometimes,” I said, my voice softening as the evening quiet settled in around us. The trees rustled with a chilly breeze, and we both shuddered as goosebumps threatened to cover our skin.

The silence stretched a moment before I broke it. “So, a younger sister, huh?” I asked, securing my braid with an elastic.

“Yes, ma’am,” he clarified. “And it’s just you and Howard, right?”

“Unfortunately,” I chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but we are very different.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for me to elaborate. “Howard loves being in the spotlight. He loves the photographers following him everywhere, loves the attention from women, loves being the smartest in the room…but he cares about those close to him dearly, so much so that you never feel the need to question it.”

“Well, I’d say you two are similar in that regard then,” Bucky said, a small smile of realization forming on my lips. “You remember any small detail people share, you put everything on the line for those you care about; so much so that you’re sitting in the middle of Europe around a campfire fighting a war because Steve asked you to when you could easily be back in the States.”

“And what fun would that be?” I joked, his kind words ringing in my head. I hadn’t realized, but we were facing each other now, and it seemed we’d moved slightly closer. We sat in a comfortable silence for a little, just listening to the firewood crack as the fresh ember scent filled the air.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you’re not spoken for,” he said out of nowhere, “talking to people like DiMaggio and Gable. Who else you got, Gene Kelly and Cary Grant?”

I chuckled and shook my head, a blush rising to my cheeks. “Gene, yes, Cary, no,” I shared as he threw his hands up in comedic defeat. “Look, like I said, it’s only through galas and premieres I’ve had to attend with my brother. If I don’t chaperone him, God only knows what could happen.”

“But none of them have tried to take you out? Not even ask for a date?”

“Not the sort I go for,” I said softly. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this big spotlight. I want to work in my lab, or tinker with my inventions and work on prototypes…I want to go home to someone who wants me for me, not because of my name or family reputation.”

“Admirable,” he whispered, his gaze locked on me. My eyes darted to his, an incredulous look on my face as I lightly shook my head and exhaled through my nose.

“You’re too kind, Buck,” I mumbled, wanting to divert the subject, “and what about you? No one waitin’ for you at home?”

“No, hold on, really,” he said eagerly as I noted the dodge of my question, “You have most of these Hollywood stars and millionaires that always want more. They want more recognition, more money, more power, all that. But then here I am, sitting with you, a Stark nonetheless, who wants to indulge in her passions and interests rather than pose for the front cover of the paper—it's refreshing.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” I said just above a whisper, “my mother wouldn’t have agreed with you, or my father really, but…”

The crackling fire popped, and for a moment, there was nothing but the soft rustling of leaves in the slight breeze and the hum of our breaths, the space between us comfortable. The flickering light cast dancing shadows across Bucky’s face as he looked at me with an intensity I hadn’t expected.

He didn’t say anything immediately, but his eyes softened like he was weighing my words, considering them in a way that felt different from how he usually listened.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, almost thoughtful, “I think your parents would’ve been proud of you.”

I met his gaze, the warmth of the fire between us, but still, something shifted in the air. There was something in his eyes that made my heart beat a little faster. For a second, we just stared at each other—me, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, the usual joking tone nowhere to be found.

“I don’t know if they’d ever see it that way,” I whispered, a bitter edge creeping into my voice. “They always had their expectations. My mother probably would've had me married off to a politician or movie star somehow, nagging for grandkids to fill her empty brownstone.”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth pulling up into that familiar half-smile. “I don’t know, I’d say you're doing just fine without either of those right now,” he replied his tone light but laced with something that felt like more than a casual compliment.

I tilted my head slightly, studying him, feeling the weight of his words still lingering in the air between us. "Well," I said slowly, "I guess we'll see if I ever get the chance to prove that, huh?"

Bucky’s smile faded just a little, but there was a glimmer in his eyes, something that told me he wasn’t just talking about hypothetical marriage prospects. His gaze lingered, and for a moment, neither of us spoke, the fire crackling louder in the silence.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the air between us feel different. More personal. And when I finally broke eye contact, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to see him, but because I was afraid he might see something I wasn’t quite ready to admit.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you get some sleep. It’s late,” Bucky said gently, breaking the silence, his voice warmer than usual. He stood, his movements slow, but his eyes lingered on me for just a moment longer.

I nodded, watching him grab his jacket. “Yeah, you too, Buck. Night.”

He paused just before heading off, glancing back at me with that same kind of look. Not heavy, not serious, just... something. “Catch you in the morning,” he said, a little softer than usual.

“Bright and early,” I replied, managing a smile as he headed off to his tent.

I watched him go, feeling that subtle shift between us hanging in the air. There was no rush, no tension—just a quiet, almost tentative understanding that whatever it was between us, it was starting to become it was something I couldn’t ignore—or even wanted to.

—-

A week later, we were storming one of the larger bases in Germany. Stalking through the seemingly empty roadways of the base, we all stayed on high alert as the sounds of machinery still hummed around us. Making it to the largest warehouse, Steve kicked in the doors as the unit followed behind him in an arrow formation. We covered each other's backs and hit Hydra men left and right. In no time, not a single soul besides our own were conscious inside of that warehouse.

"Alright, the warehouse is clear," Steve said quickly, looking around. “Frenchie, bombs are in place, correct?"

“Oui,” he responded with a nod. Last night, our personal detonator loaded the entire compound up with some disguised TnT, and Steve finally has his chance to use one of Howard’s transponders to set it all off from afar. 

“Falsworth, you're our cover. Everyone split and meet in the forest by the truck. Make sure you all get outta here because I'm setting this place off in ten.”

With that, we all sprinted out of the building as Falsworth shot at anyone who tried to shoot us, everyone heading in various directions to cover as much ground as we could on our way out. As I sprinted, I glanced and saw Bucky catching up to my side. I cracked a smile but was quickly forced back into reality as a bullet zoomed past my head.

We both slowed our pace and drew our guns, and Bucky immediately shot in the direction of where the bullet came from, a thud sound coming from the direction of a shallow rooftop. Letting the gun drop to his side, he moved closer and pulled us out of sight, our bodies now flush together between two walls.

The whiz of bullets sliced the air around us, a few narrowly missing, their impact on the concrete sending chunks of stone spraying in all directions. My heart raced, not just from the danger, but from how close we were—chest to chest, our bodies pressed together. I'm sure he could feel my heart beating as hard as his own.

"Well, this is snug," I deflected as I felt the tips of my ears get hot. Bucky was locked in with his weapon drawn, the height difference helping him be able to shoot better.

"Let me clear this area and then we sprint," he ordered. "The tree line is about 15 yards away, understand?"

"Yes sir," I sarcastically responded as I looked up at him, annoyed that he felt like he had to play hero. "I can shoot 'em down too, y’know. I am carrying a rifle."

"Just tryna cover your ass, doll," he mumbled. My eyebrows raised at the sudden name, and he glanced down at me feeling my eyes on him.

“Doll? I asked, my voice almost catching in my throat as the butterflies were fighting to get out of my stomach. Bucky’s eyes flicked down to me, and I saw his cheeks flush pink, a half-hearted grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked away quickly, obviously not meaning to say it as loud as he did, or maybe not even out loud at all.

"Christ," he breathed out as he fired the gun six times, six thuds hitting the ground in response. "Let's go."

With that, Bucky wedged out from between the wall, then grabbed my arm as we sprinted into the woods. Buildings started to burst around us, and as we ran for the clearing, the heat and ash were thankfully further away.

When we got a decent distance into the woods, both of us stopped running and caught our breath, the cold air tightening our lungs. I leaned my back up against a tree trunk and put my hands behind my head, and he hunched over with his hands on his knees.

"Y'know, it's better for your lungs if you're not doubled over," I said, still breathing heavily. Bucky looked up at me and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Y/N, I'm not like little Steve's asthmatic ass; I have stamina," he responded as he stood straight up.

"Oh, do you now?" I said back, raising one eyebrow. "Your breathing says otherwise."

"I do, actually," he said walking over to me with a cocky smile, "I have great stamina."

"Well, it's not like I'd know," I said as Bucky stood right in front of me, "but from what Steve told me, a lot of broads in Brooklyn might."

His eyebrows raised at my comment, the nervous flutter in my stomach growing as he took a step closer. "What'd you just say?" 

His eyes darted to my lips for a split second before back up to my eyes and he moved a loose strand of hair from my face, his cold fingertips lightly grazing my skin.

Standing up straight remembering my back was to a tree, I squared my shoulders and looked right at him, "I said, a lot of broads in Brooklyn might...or do you prefer Queens? Manhattan?"

"Where's this little attitude coming from all the sudden, hm?" he asked, softly, his eyes darkening a little.

"What attitude?" I quipped, “You had no problem dodging my question the other night, so what, I can’t ignore yours?”

An almost unnoticeable smile formed on his lips. Our eyes darted between one another's and it felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest. Remembering the mission, I pulled my compass out of my pocket and glanced at it. Bucky quickly wet his bottom lip and clenched his jaw, and his finger closed the compass causing me to look up at him.

I could see the flames dancing in his eyes as his right hand softly cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing my cheek. My eyes were a mirror of his, and as his thumb made little circles on my skin, I felt the heat in my body rise.

My breath hitched as Bucky’s lips brushed mine, a soft tease of warmth, lingering just enough to make me shiver. His hand slid to my jaw, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moved, caught in the weight of what was between us. And then, without a word, I closed the gap.

His lips were soft and slightly chapped, but eager nonetheless. We moved in sync, the ease and rhythm of it feeling so natural. My fingers tangled in his soft brown hair, and his lips curled into a smile as I lightly tugged on it, his left hand finding my waist and pulling me closer. Our kisses were hungry and full of desire, our tongues dancing. 

"Buck..." I gasped as he trailed kisses up my jawline and to my neck. I felt him smile as he kissed and nipped at my skin, and he lightly nipped at my ear lobe before returning to my lips.

We couldn't get enough of each other, and as his hands wandered, a roaring motorcycle engine pulled us out of our bubble. We pulled away from each other with wide eyes and froze against the tree trunk.

Thank God we were leaning against one of the thicker trunks so we weren't seen. As we stood there, Steve flew by on his motorcycle about forty feet away, snow kicking up behind him as he zoomed through the forest.

As the engine sounded further and further away, we both started laughing in relief. Bucky looked into my eyes and ran his hand down the side of my face before he brought his forehead to mine, both hands soon finding my waist.

Looking into each other's eyes, nothing needed to be said. I lightly smiled at him and bashfully looked down at my feet, "We should probably start heading to the truck before they come looking for us."

"I just want to stay in this moment...without the interruption though." I laughed at his comment and we both stood straight up. We were still chest to chest, his hands still holding me as a smug smile graced his face, "and to answer your question, no, I don’t."

I raised my eyebrows at him, smiling back and biting my lip, "Well after that kiss I hope not."

Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and kissed me again, and I broke the kiss before we got carried away. I took a deep breath and took out my compass, this time without interruption to see what direction we needed to head in.

I side-stepped out from between him and the tree and started to walk Northeast towards the truck. I was about ten paces away from where I left him when I started to hear his footsteps crunching in the snow behind me.

I stopped and turned to see him walking to catch up with a goofy smile on his face. I felt butterflies throughout my whole body, but as he looked up at me and made eye contact, all of the nerves melted away, filling me with a sense of calm.

"Come on, Sarge," I said standing in the snow, watching him jog over to me to make our way back to the team.

Chapter Text

"Go, that was Jim’s whistle," Jones said to Frenchie as we all crouched in the shrubs a few yards away from the road.

Dernier glanced back and saw the quick flash of light before jogging out to the skirts of the woods. As the tank rolled closer, he sprinted into the road and laid flat on his back, the bomb in hand.

We all stood in anticipation as he got up from the ground covering his ears, and then the explosion shook the forest. Dernier smiled and clasped his hands together looking back at all of us. Dugan's laugh boomed in my ear while the rest of us chuckled.

"Alright guys, time to disperse and make our way to the factory," Steve said, pulling out a map from his pocket. Morita and Frenchie got back to the group and grabbed their things as we stood around Steve waiting for instructions,

"This base is a bit larger, they're definitely doing more than just assembling weapons," he said pointing at the little squares, "Bucky and Stark, I need you guys at the top of his hill that overlooks the grounds. Buck, we need our backs covered, and Y/N, you’re covering him. This is the only clear high point, so expect a visitor or two once you get settled up there,"

"The rest of us are going to storm the place like normal. We already disabled one tank so we should have good odds. Ready?" Steve said, looking up at all of us. Everyone nodded in unison and separated, Bucky and I jogging across the road to start trekking up the mountain.

We made it to the grassy plateau that overlooked the Hydra base below. Walking to the edge, I found a little mossy patch that would be perfect for Bucky’s setup. I peered into the binoculars at the men below, strolling around the grounds in their black helmets and uniforms.

"No sign of Steve or anyone else yet, so we have some time," I said, passing the binoculars to Bucky.

"Then I think right here is good," he stated. "We walked up here pretty quick if I do say so myself."

“You walked up here pretty quick. I basically had to run to keep up with you,” I commented, opening my bag. I set the gun and scope down, then pulled my hair out of the bun I had hastily pinned up that morning. The speed and rigor of the climb had made it feel like the whole thing could have unraveled at any second.

I shook my hair loose, letting the breeze tug a few stray strands from my face as I looked out over the mountain. The scent of pine was thick in the air, and the trees rustled faintly in the wind. Yeah, the world’s at war, but Hydra sure knows how to pick a stunning location for their chaos.

I turned my attention to the valley below, where the factory loomed in the distance. As I gathered my hair back into a ponytail for a braid, I could feel Bucky's gaze on me. When I met his eyes, he didn't look away—but after a moment, he casually turned back to set his pack down.

He kneeled, getting his gun and scope ready. I finished securing my braid with the last bobby pin, all the while keeping an eye on the valley below. We had some time, at least until Steve and the team made their moves.

We both lay flat on our stomachs, peering over the edge. After a beat, Bucky turned to look at me again.

"I haven't seen you with your hair down in a minute," he commented before chuckling, "I had a little flashback to the first night I saw you at the Expo."

"Oh, did you?" I laughed before sighing, "God, that feels like a lifetime ago if I'm being honest."

"It really does..." he responded, trailing off, then taking a deep breath. As I turned to look at him, his face was enveloped by the hundred-yard stare.

"You made a comment about going dancing when we all were in London," I started to try to get him out of his thoughts, "did you and Steve go out a lot?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied quickly, "dancing was one of my favorite things to do on the weekends. Steve would always tag along for a drink but never get out on the floor..." Bucky chuckled at the memory and turned to me, his face already telling me something silly was about to leave his mouth. "You’ve obviously been out with DiMaggio and Gene Kelly, but have you been to more local spots? Places where your normal, everyday guy goes?"

“Howard loves Copacabana with all of his being, especially on a Thursday night,” I shared. “There was also La Martinique, but that’s more of a hit-or-miss spot. To be honest, I was usually the one keeping tabs on him and not getting out on the floor. He loved dancing with all of the politician's wives, but he at least knew to stay away from the mobster's women though so…”

"Wait, so you didn't dance?"

"I mean, I did dance, but not a lot. I was more of a talker, I told you-"

"No shot you weren't asked to dance, c'mon, Y/N,” he said smiling with his eyebrows basically reaching his hairline.

"No, really!" I replied with a smile before looking down, tracing over my blister scars. "For one, I was always with Howard. If people didn't already know me or they weren’t introduced, they thought I was one of his flings...and two, all of the men who asked were either gangsters or assholes. Plus, the hotshots, the ones that knew they were attractive, they thought I'd be easy since my brother gets around y'know?"

Bucky watched me intently as I spoke, I felt his eyes on me the whole time. When I turned to look at him, he didn't turn away but gave me a closed-lip smile. I was still fiddling with my fingers and tracing my blisters, which he noticed and grabbed my left hand. His brows furrowed at my palm, his fingers lightly grazing over the dead skin surrounding the scars.

"Where are these from?" he asked, looking between me and the slightly raised, uneven skin.

"Oh, funny story actually," I said trying to lighten his concern, "Remember when you, Steve, and I escaped on that ladder on the side of the Hydra factory as it went up in flames?"

He nodded letting me continue, "Well, you were taking your sweet-ass time going down the ladder, stealing glimpses of my ass in a life-or-death situation nonetheless," I added as Bucky tried to bite back a smile.

"You did catch me at one point..."

"I did, I did," I answered slightly blushing, "but anyway, I don't have rugged man-hands like you and Rogers, so the hot metal took a little bit of a toll, y'know the ladder being attached to the burning building and all. That’s why Steve gifted me my gloves the day we set out from London, to protect my hands." I looked over at Bucky, and he seemed a tad upset, so I furrowed my brows and he cleared his throat.

"My bad, I didn't mean to—" he started to say as we both heard a single crunch come from behind us. We both froze, our eyes already locked, and Bucky gave me a single nod.

I grabbed my gun and in one motion rolled up on my right knee, my left one supporting my elbow and my gun in firing position, butt against the front of my shoulder. The area was still, and as I peered through the scope to scan around us, I saw a bush move the slightest bit.

I immediately fired and heard a grunt come from the bushes. Then, blue blasts started flying directly at us. I rolled into the shrubs beside me and sat against a tree trunk. I quickly ripped the leather knuckle gloves from my vest pockets and slid them on. 'No calluses on my scars today, assholes.'

Just as the blasts were being shot at us, I started to hear explosions and yelling from down in the valley. "Buck!" I yelled as I popped up for a second and fired at the Hydra soldiers, "One of us needs to cover the guys!"

"Then who's gonna cover us?!" he yelled back, popping up from the little shrubbery that was beside where he was lying before. 'Oh shit, he's right.'

I sat there for a second and thought about a plan until I was brought back to reality by the German-speaking soldiers.

"Ihr drei bleibt hier," one of them said, "ich gehe zurück und erzähle es dem General!"

"You three stay here, I'll head back down and tell the General," I mumbled to myself translating what they said,

"BUCKY!" I screamed. His head shot out of the shrubs, and he used his pack as a cover and ran over to me, squatting down.

"Are you hurt?! Why'd you-"

"I have a plan," I said cutting him off, and he instantly shut his mouth and nodded for me to continue,

"My mother had me study German, don’t ask why, so I understand what they're saying. I'll cover you and wipe them out while you cover the guys. Right now, the guy said there are only four of them up here including himself, but he's heading back down to talk to whoever's in charge,"

He nodded and I continued, "I'm gonna pop out first, then you count to five and get in position. By then I should be good to move up and go find the one who ran. Sound good?"

"You amaze me," he whispered as he tightened the scope on his gun. I rolled my eyes and smirked as I turned and got ready.

I emerged from the bush with my gun to my shoulder and scope to my eye, and I immediately pinpointed the three black helmets in the woods.

"Head," I mumbled as I heard a clunk,

"Neck," I mumbled as a grunt came from the distance,

"Head," I said as I heard the last clank of metal and a loud thud on the forest floor.

Bucky had just gotten out of the bushes and was on his stomach by the time I shot each of the soldiers, and he was already focused on finding any of the Howlies to watch their backs.

Not wanting to bother him, I traced my fingers over the "Give 'em Hell" on my shoulder strap and turned on my heels before heading to find the fourth soldier.

I was walking for God knows how long before I heard a slight static sound. My gun had been raised the whole time, but as the static was replaced by a voice, I readied for fire. I stepped off the little trail and camouflaged myself in the pine trees.

I made sure not to step on any sticks and make the same mistake as they did earlier, and as I got closer to the cliff, the voice got clearer. Almost to a little clearing, I peeked through the branches and saw a man kneeling next to a black box with the Hydra emblem.

"General? General? Kopieren Sie?" the man said into the radio transponder. 'Do you copy,' damn, did he get too lazy to walk down the rest of the mountain?

I silently walk up behind the man and push the nose of my gun into the back of his head. He froze and dropped the transponder.

"No, he doesn't copy," I said coldly and monotone. "Get up and turn around."

The man raised his hands and stood up from where he was. As he began to tower over me, I realized I may have underestimated his size when he was crouched down. He had to be around six and a half feet tall, and he wasn't scrawny by any means.

My gun stayed aimed and ready as he turned around and faced me. His face went from scared to shocked, then he cracked an eerie smile.

"Fräulein, you are here," he said looking at me. "You know, your attendance has only been rumored. No woman fights in battles with men."

"Well I do," I replied, "who are you?" I questioned taking a step closer, my gun touching his chest.

His smile quickly turned wicked before he smacked my gun and sent his foot right into my stomach. As the kick sent me straight to the ground, the gun, still slung across my torso, swung behind my back.

I got back up and the man laughed, staring me down like I was prey. He lunged at me and I hit him square in the jaw, but it didn't do much, unfortunately. Shaking his head, I could tell the punch only enraged him more.

As I blocked his right hand that was aiming for my head, his left hand grabbed my neck and slammed me on my back. The slam knocked the wind out of me, and the gun being between me and the ground didn't help. I know it's going to leave a bad bruise, and as I gasped for air, he put his boot right in the center of my chest. I wiggled underneath it, but his weight held me down.

"What a sight, a girl from one of the tabloid families of New York City on the front lines of war," he said, his voice gruff, "you think you're so important, don't you? Fighting for a cause you believe in, making some kind of statement,"

"I know exactly what you are capable of, Fräulein. You and Dr. Erskine perfected that serum, only to waste it when Hydra could have used it to change the world!" he took a deep breath and looked into my eyes, "you are wasting your talents, my dear, you and that sergeant you stole from us...with Hydra, you two can help build humanity into what it was meant to be! Instead, you and those men are blowing up our buildings, killing our soldiers, all in the name of that horrid shield," he snarled.

I wrestled with the weight of his foot crushing my chest, gasping still as dots entered my vision, the soldier pressing down harder. As I wiggled, I heard the tiniest metal clink from my leg, remembering I had a thigh holster with a knife. I stopped giving 100% of my effort to let him think he was winning before I heard a stick snap.

The man looked up and I saw his brows furrow, so I grabbed the knife from my thigh and jammed it right into his calf between the muscle and shin, slicing down. As the knife slid into his leg, I heard a gun fire multiple rounds. The soldier's body moved back with impact as he screamed out in pain and fell to the ground beside me.

I immediately rolled over and straddled his chest, my pressed gun across his neck as I saw the bullet holes littering his chest.

"Who the hell are you?!" I demanded, my voice rough, as he made eye contact and smiled.

"Cut off one head, two more shall take its place," he choked out as my brows furrowed,

His tongue then removed a tooth from his bottom line of teeth and he bit down on it, "Hail Hydra," he mumbled as his mouth foamed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

The soldier lay there dead underneath me, and I moved off and sat on the ground, breathing heavily. I looked up in the same direction he did before to see no one other than Bucky making his way through the branches. His gun lowered as he realized I saw him, and he jogged over to where I sat in dead pine needles next to the dead man.

"Oh my God, Y/N," he said, reaching down to help me. We grabbed each other's wrists as he pulled me from the ground.

Bucky immediately pulled me into a hug, his arms tightly wrapping around me to hold me close. I winced as he tightened his arms, my back throbbing and on fire from being slammed between the ground and my gun. Hearing me, he loosened up and lightly rubbed my back with one hand while the other was holding the back of my head, his thumb rubbing my hair.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, kissing my forehead, "I got ya, doll, I got ya."

I wasn't crying, but my body felt frozen. I focused on his heartbeat, how frantic it was beating but slowed down the longer we stood there. I eventually pulled back from Bucky and ran my hands down my face.

"They know everything about us," I said softly, "Hydra knows exactly who they're up against."

"What do you mean?" he questioned, looking at me and then down at the dead man.

"He knew everything about me, Bucky...how I'm a Stark, h-how I helped Abe with the serum," I rambled running my hands through my hair, "We need to tell Steve, the soldier knew about the Howlies...for Christ's sake he even brought you up,"

As I said that, Bucky's face went pale, and I tried looking at him but he averted his eyes.

"Hey, hey, Buck," I said softly, putting my hand to his cheek, his attention being brought back with his worried baby blues staring into my eyes. "Don't worry, they're not going to get their hands on you again, okay? Let's just go find Steve and the others, we'll tell him what happened and we'll keep moving."

He nodded with a hard swallow and glanced behind me, his eyebrows raising, "and let's bring whatever that is with us."

I turned to see the radio sitting on the hidden plateau in all its glory. Bucky walked over and picked it up, groaning a little as the hunk of metal left the ground.

I chuckled at him and shook my head, and he flashed a half-assed smile. With that, we made our way back down the mountain in silence, still processing what happened while also not wanting to be heard.

Crossing the road, I saw the team sitting a few yards behind the tree line. Stepping down onto the forest floor, all of their heads snapped in our direction and each set of eyebrows was furrowed in worry waiting for Bucky and me to return.

Steve jogged over and immediately pulled me into a hug and Bucky brought the radio over to Gabe. I winced as he tightened his arms around me, the new bruise on my back throbbing as he immediately let go of me.

"You look like hell, Stark, what happened?" he asked as his eyes frantically scanned my face.

"I feel like hell," I chuckled before looking down at my feet and then back up at him, "Hydra knows about us, Steve. They know about all of us...and in more detail than they should."

His lips went into a thin line as he looked away and slightly nodded, "It was bound to happen sooner or later...I'll have Morita code a message to Phillips."

He gave me a sad smile and lightly patted my shoulder, leading me back to the group to share what happened on top of the mountain.

Chapter Text

Weeks after the run-in with Hydra in the woods, six of us sat in the supply truck bed as the snowflakes fell heavily outside. We had tents set up around the fire earlier in the night, but the snow quickly extinguished it. Falsworth suggested we all huddle in the truck bed since it was covered and our collective body heat would be able to keep us warm.

Lamps rested on top of the supply boxes that lined the vehicle. Frenchie and Gabe were outside on an evening watch shift, so the rest of us were basically in a cuddle puddle. I sat in between Steve and Bucky, and against our backs were Dugan, Falsworth, and Morita.

Glancing around the truck, I spotted the box of the larger camera Howard had packed for us. Shivering, I scooted away and earned confused looks from Steve and Buck, but flipped open the locks to pull out the camera.

"Stark, what're ya doin'?" Dugan said turning to face me, obviously missing the warmth of where I once was. "That thing hasn't been used this whole time."

"And that's where you're wrong, Timothy," I responded smirking.

"To my knowledge, we only took two pictures as a test," Falsworth added, "and you were in both, Dugan."

"Oh, I have taken more than those test pictures, boys," I sassed, "you see, Howard made a fancy portable camera that conveniently fits in my pack. While you all have been ultra-focused, I've taken some action and candid shots of the team, along with some nice landscapes too,"

Each one of their faces contorted, and as they looked at me, I saw the opportunity to snap it. "Smile!"

The flash went off in the dimly lit truck, earning mixed reactions from the men. Bucky and Steve started dying laughing, and the others muttered curse words trying to blink away the dots the flash left in their vision.

"Blondie, give me your best smolder," I said, holding the camera up to my eye.

"Oh, Y/N, I don't know how to—" the flash cut him off as he gave a confused look while Bucky smoldered.

This earned me a classic Steve glare which I just returned with a smile. Dugan's calloused hands came down and snatched the camera from my lap, and he sat there examining the object.

"It's so...new," he said, holding it up to his eye, "let me snap a picture of the young trio, eh?"

“You callin’ us old, Dugan?” Morita quipped, only earning a pair of raised eyebrows from the man with a bowler hat.

I let out a breathy laugh as I scooted back between the boys. Bucky's warm hand found my waist as he leaned into my right, our faces almost touching. Steve's arm swung around my shoulders and his pearly whites were displayed for the camera.

"Say cheese!" Dugan shouted as he pressed down on the button. As the flash went off, Bucky muttered a curse word under his breath and squeezed my side, causing me to squirm from the accidental tickle, which made me elbow Steve in his side.

The three of us erupted in laughter, and almost as if Dugan read my mind, the flash went off again capturing the moment.

"Taking some candids, are ya, Dum Dum?" Bucky said, coming down from the high of laughter with a smirk as the man glared at him.

"Hey, when you're 70 and want to look back on your wartime memories with your best pal and lady friend, you're gonna think of this moment and thank me."

The truck again erupted in laughter as Bucky's cheeks blushed bright red, his hand now on my leg as his fingers nervously rubbed the fabric. My jaw dropped at Dugan’s comment, but I couldn't help but laugh out of embarrassment and disbelief that he actually said it.

"Lady friend?!" I exclaimed, which only earned me playful glares from him and Steve.

"Oh come on, Y/N," Dugan dragged, "you're acting like we can't hear you two sitting by the fire every night talking and giggling."

"Or that we don't notice you two volunteering for the same watch shifts," Falsworth added.

"Or that we don't see the googly eyes y'all give each other when the other isn't looking!" Gabe commented as he climbed back into the truck.

The men all started laughing again as Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and I just sat there blushing and shaking my head with a smile. I looked up to Steve who only sat there staring at the two of us, content and smiling. I scrunched my nose and nudged him before clearing a little pathway for Morita and Falsworth to leave the truck bed.

Gabe and Frenchie sat in the back shivering as they took their wet jackets off. I tossed them the extra blanket and the one I wrapped around me before realizing I left the other ones I had with me outside.

"Well, while you lot tease Barnes," I said standing, glancing down at him with a soft yet reassuring smile, "I'm going to grab the blankets I forgot in my tent."

I hopped out of the truck and walked towards the propped-up tent, the cold air hitting my face with relief. While I appreciate the heat from everyone being together, something about shaking off the heat of embarrassment felt extra good in the crispy, mountain air. 

I hadn’t realized how obvious Bucky and I had been. We hadn’t exactly shouted it from the rooftops, but between the constant moving, the missions, and Hydra still wreaking havoc, there never seemed to be a good moment. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to tell the team. Hell, I knew they probably had their suspicions, but there was never even a time for Bucky and me to sit down and have the conversation ourselves. I'd written coded letters to Peggy, sure, and I knew he had talked to Steve... but had we been waiting for the right moment to talk? Or had it just never felt like something that needed explaining?

I shook the snow off the tent like I was trying to shake the thoughts from my head, hoping it wouldn’t cave in overnight. It was about 10 o'clock, and the snow was falling steadily now, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. I knew we’d all be stuck in the truck overnight, so I grabbed my pillow in addition to the blankets before heading back toward the others.

As my boots crunched in the snow, I heard the guys talking as I approached the truck.

“Really though, Barnes, you like her?” Gabe asked. I stopped in my tracks to listen, even though I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop. My heart dropped straight into my stomach, and the snow beneath me suddenly felt like hard, dry concrete that my boots were stuck in.

“I, uh, well—”

“Oh, come on! Look at those pink cheeks! Of course he does!” Dugan yelled.

“Yeah, Buck, I know ya do,” Steve started, “I’ve seen you around a lot of girls, but with Y/N? You’re knee-deep, pal.”

“I mean, would ya blame him, Cap? Not only is she gorgeous, but that girl is sharp as a tack... and she can hold her own like no one’s business,” Gabe added.

“She’s just… I can’t even put it into words,” Bucky said, his voice softer now. “Love comes when you least expect it, doesn’t it, fellas?”

‘Love… me?’ My mind blanked as my mouth went dry, the heat from my neck creeping up to my cheeks.

“You could say that again,” Dugan exhaled. “What’re you gonna do when we get back, though? Y’know, when we’re not trudging through Europe searching for Schmidt and his cronies?”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” Bucky said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “But first thing? I’d take her dancing. Then maybe dinner... or dinner before, and dancing after? I’d have to ask Howard what her favo—”

“Oh, it’s worse than we thought,” Gabe cut him off, and the others burst into laughter.

“Barnes,” Dugan yelled, “it’s like the heart eyes are popping outta your skull, buddy!”

I felt the hairs on my arms rise, shocked that they were being this bold about it while I was within earshot. But then again, they were men—of course they would.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Steve said, his voice serious now. “But if you mess this up or hurt her? I’m taking you to one of those back alleys you saved my ass in, and it won’t be pretty.”

Their laughter filled the small space around me, and as I let what I’d just heard sink in, my thoughts went wild. I didn’t even realize how big my grin had gotten until my cheeks started to hurt, and those little butterflies started fluttering in my stomach. Trying to shake it off, I stomped my boots louder than necessary, making it sound like I was walking up to the truck.

"Oh shit, I think I hear her comin’ back," Gabe suddenly muttered.

"Umm... you know, I think the Yankees might be in the series this year," Steve said quickly, rambling to cover his tracks. "They finished third last year, right?"

I pushed through the drapes, climbing back into the truck with my arms full of blankets, one hand gripping my pillow. "Yeah, well, this year’s either gonna be fantastic or... well, shit for them,” I said, trying to sound casual. "I love baseball, especially the Yanks. Met them and the Dodgers a few years back."

Their heads snapped to me as I settled into the truck. I caught the shift in their expressions—Gabe was trying not to laugh, Steve was fighting a grin, and Bucky was looking at me like I was a complete mystery. But no one said anything about what I’d overheard.

Dugan broke the silence. “Eh, I’m more of a Philadelphia fan.”

I turned to him, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dugan said, grinning. "Philly all the way."

I shot him a look, then turned to Steve and Bucky. “You hearing this?”

Steve gave a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “Dugan, you’re really gonna do this to us?”

“Guess I’ve got to—my loyalty’s already been claimed," Dugan said with a wink, and we all groaned in mock disbelief.

----

"So, this red button here starts recording," I said, pointing to the dot, "and this square here stops it."

Frenchie nodded as I explained the switches before taking the camera from me. It had been a couple of weeks since our impromptu truck-bed slumber party, and now we were all piled into the back of a pickup truck, heading to meet up with an Allied unit stationed nearby.

We were hitting one of the heavily guarded factories today, so as we bumped down the gravel road, everyone crowded around the map while Steve outlined the plan. I sat on the crates behind Bucky, my chest pressed against his back, my right arm draped across his chest. His hand rested firmly around my forearm, and the other was on my thigh. I leaned my chin against his left shoulder, both of us focused on the map between us, the markings for the base sharp and clear.

"This factory isn't as big as the others we've hit, but this one makes some of the more aggressive weapons, so there are more soldiers. We're heading to one of the Allied units whose camp isn't too far, and half of the men will go straight in with us, the other half are on standby."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Frenchie pointing the camera straight at Bucky and me. Not thinking much of it, I glanced up, then back down to continue listening to Steve’s spiel about the unit's accomplishments, how they’d be of assistance, and so on. It wasn’t until I remembered I’d shown Frenchie how to record that my head snapped back up in his direction.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky asked lowly, turning his head towards me, probably alerted by my sudden movement. A smile spread across my face—embarrassed, of course. Right now, I really wished my hair were down instead of in a braid to hide my face.

"The camera, Buck," I chuckled quietly. "That film roll is going to the president, the SSR, and probably my brother too."

"What?" he mumbled, brows furrowing as he turned toward Frenchie, who still had the lens pointed at us. I peeked over Bucky’s shoulder just in time to see Frenchie realize it was actually recording, followed by a small, "Oh." Bucky leaned back slightly, tilted his chin up, and flashed his classic smirk, which made Frenchie snap out of his trance.

"Oh, pardon," Frenchie mumbled, quickly turning the camera on Steve.

"Now, the gates are about 15 miles from the line," Steve continued, "so we’ll need to go southwest when we head out with the men."

As I glanced down at the map, I noticed Steve’s compass wide open, and on full display for everyone to see, was a picture of Peggy.

I quickly looked away, my gaze dropping to the map, but not before making eye contact with Steve. I nodded toward the camera, and his eyebrows shot up. He quickly turned to look at Frenchie, who was still oblivious.

Steve shot a glare at the camera and shut the compass almost instantly, which earned a chuckle from Bucky and Dugan.

Dugan flashed Frenchie a grin and tapped the stop button on the camera. "I think that’s enough of you filming for the drama shots, pal. Let me know if Hollywood calls when this is all over."

"Je capture simplement le moment, mon ami," Frenchie replied, causing Gabe to chuckle.

"He said, 'I’m simply capturing the moment, my friend,'" Gabe translated with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes, smiling at the guys as the truck came to a stop. Frenchie looked so content behind the camera, and I caught him sneakily pressing the record button again before hopping out of the truck.

Steve shot him a look, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, as Frenchie aimed the lens up at his face, his lips forming a tight line. The shift in mood didn’t go unnoticed by the group. In an effort to lighten things up, Dugan shouted, “Hey, Frenchie, turn around!”

As Dernier spun around to face us, Dugan threw Bucky into a headlock and ruffled his hair. Gabe and I burst into laughter as Bucky struggled to break free, and Frenchie set the camera down on the truck bed.

Still recording, he stood in front of it and waved. After releasing Bucky, Dugan bent down, raised an eyebrow at the lens, then flashed a grin before walking off. Falsworth and Morita had followed Steve to wherever he went, and Gabe, still laughing, joined Dugan and Dernier.

This left Bucky and me standing in front of the camera. I hadn’t noticed everyone had left until I finished helping him fix his hair, my fingers now slick with pomade. I glanced down to see the recording button still on, but as I moved to turn it off, Bucky’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me back.

“Dance with me,” he said softly, his blue-grey eyes locking with mine.

"What? Buck, I told you—this film roll is going back—"

"Whoever’s watching this already saw you hangin’ on me in the truck, sweetheart. Does it really matter?"

I smiled down at my feet as one of his hands settled on my waist and the other took mine. He pulled me closer, humming a soft tune in my ear as we swayed. Thinking about what we must look like made me giggle.

"What’s so funny, hm?" he teased.

"Well, nothing like watching two soldiers dance in the middle of a European forest, wearing combat gear and rifles on their backs," I said with a grin. He smiled back, looking off to the side for a moment before returning his gaze to mine.

Suddenly, he let go of my hand and extended his arm, signaling for me to spin. As I turned, I landed back in his arms, my back to his chest. We swayed together for a moment before I was jolted out of my thoughts when he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“We’re really giving them a show, huh?” I said, pulling away slightly.

“Just had to show off my best girl to the United States government. No big deal,” he replied with a grin.

I playfully glared at him as I walked over to the camera and pressed the stop button. Picking it up, I placed it back in its protective box and latched it shut. My regular camera was already in my pack, which I threw over my shoulder. Bucky came over and grabbed the box's handles.

As we walked toward the group, our arms brushed, and his words replayed in my head. ‘Just had to show off my best girl.’ It echoed in my mind, over and over again. I caught myself smiling at the ground before I felt him nudge me, intentionally. Looking up, I saw him smirking, one eyebrow raised, silently questioning me.

Before we entered the strategy team’s tent, I stopped and turned to face him, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Your best girl, huh?" I said, a teasing smile on my face. His cheeks flushed bright red, and he gave me a playful glare. But I could see a little more than playfulness in his eyes. As I took a step closer, his breath hitched slightly.

Relishing the moment, I laughed softly before reaching up and grabbing the straps of his pack. "Come on, Sergeant," I said with a grin, walking in front of him toward the tent. "We’ve got a game plan to go over."

Chapter Text

The winter air was harsh as it dodged around the tree trunks and tents, hitting our backs as we sat around the fire. A few of us were sitting around the flames to keep warm, others were in the large tent already sleeping, and in Bucky's case, he was sitting on a large rock looking off the side of the mountain.

Just before leaving the Allied camp this afternoon, Steve got word from the SSR that they may have located Schmidt's head scientist, Arnim Zola. This completely changed our course, as the SSR now wants us to go directly after Zola to get to Schmidt.

Earlier that day

"Captain Rogers, we have a message coming through! Wait!" One of the British officials shouted to our group. Steve was leading us out of the tent after the strategy meeting, but we all turned our attention to the call of his name. 

Realizing it didn't concern them, the rest of the team headed outside except Dugan, Bucky, and me. We walked over to the table with Steve as the code came through, one of the soldiers scribbling it down as the paper streamed out.

"It seems that Dr. Arnim Zola of Hydra has possibly been located," the man mumbled as he transcribed. “The United States has ordered the Strategic Scientific Reserve's 'Howling Commandos' to be temporarily re-tasked with obtaining Dr. Zola for questioning and possible persecution."

Steve looked at the three of us who stood beside him, his eyebrows knit together, before turning back to the Lieutenant and discussing the change in plans.

I looked up at Bucky to see that his face had lost all color, even though he seemed fine seconds earlier.

"You okay?" I whispered, looking up at him as he stared into the distance, my hand brushing against his. His skin was clammy, and he blinked a few times as our skin made contact before looking down at me.

"U-uh, yeah," he stammered, "you got any of that Aspirin on you, doll?"

I nodded as I swung my pack around, taking the little metal tin out of one of the pockets. "Another migraine coming on?"

"Somethin’ like that," he mumbled as he hurriedly opened the tin and shook out a few tablets, popping them in his mouth and dry swallowing them. I raised an eyebrow at him as he looked at me blankly while placing the tin back in my hand.

"Thanks. I'll see you outside," he said dryly while rushing out of the tent. I stood there holding the metal tin dumbfounded and confused at Bucky's rushed exit.

"What's got his panties in a twist, huh?" Dugan asked from the other side of me.

"I think a migraine just began to hit him, or maybe just a bad headache."

"He's been getting a lot of those lately, Y/N," he breathed out. "You should check his temperature, make sure Loverboy isn't concussed."

In any other situation, I would have laughed at Dugan's little comment, but it was what he said right before that got my gears turning.

‘He has been getting a lot of headaches, more often than anyone should. He's been drinking and eating, so it's not that...he hasn't been in any physical combat lately so a concussion is unlikely...what else can — oh, oh God.'

"Steve," I urgently said, walking over to him and interrupting the Lieutenant. "Do we have a picture of this guy? The Dr. Zola we’re going after?"

He looked down at me with his lips pursed, almost as if he could read my mind. He nodded and picked up a folder that was resting on the table, opening it as he passed it to me. "It's not a picture you're going to like, Y/N."

As the cardstock met my hands and I saw the paperclipped photo in the corner, it was like Hell unleashed itself in my head. Looking into the beady eyes of this man, nothing filled my conscience except pure rage. Dugan walked to us and looked over my shoulder, his finger pointing and tapping the photo.

"That's the little man from Azzano. He would come down to the holding cells and pick people to go to the isolation ward."

I flipped the folder shut and handed it back to Steve. He looked at me, his eyes filled with concern, "Y/N, just know that the plan—"

"Steve, I don't care about the plan," I spat cutting him off, "If I don't get to punish this man myself—"

"Miss Stark, we have it handled," the Lieutenant interjected, annoyed. "Captain Rogers will relay the plan to your team tomorrow morning after it is approved and finalized. For now, I ask that you and Corporal Dugan leave the tent to let us discuss our tactical options."

I stood and stared at the Lieutenant as if I could burn holes into him. His eyes darted all around the room, his posture stiffening as he avoided my gaze. I could tell he was intimidated by my presence, a woman’s presence. A tiny droplet of sweat formed on his forehead, and I almost smiled at the sight of his unease before a hand tugged at my shoulder. With a heavy exhale, I turned toward Dugan, knowing I couldn’t argue further. As we reached the front of the tent, I glanced back at the men.

"Lieutenant," I called out, catching his attention as he looked up, "If you wish to be so formal with titles and ranks, just for future reference, I rank TEC 3. It's not ‘Miss’—it’s Sergeant."

He stood there and stared, and Steve tried to stifle a laugh as I bitterly smiled and walked out of the tent. 

"Come on, kid," Dugan said as he cracked a smile, leading me away from the tent and over to the rest of the Howlies who sat by a truck. “Thought you were gonna bite the guy’s head off for a second there.”

“I wish I could’ve,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry…I don’t know, he just caught me off guard. I shouldn’t have snapped, but I did.”

“Nah, he needed to be checked. Don’t apologize, Stark,” he reassured. “But you did a 180 when you saw the picture of Little Man; it was like someone had just killed your dog right in front of ya.” 

I looked up at Dugan before looking down at my feet, and he walked over toward Falsworth. I couldn’t forget how Bucky froze in the factory when we saw Zola with Schmidt, or how we found him, abandoned and broken, strapped down to that gurney. Zola’s face wasn’t just a picture—it symbolized all the pain he’d inflicted on Bucky. And that, more than anything, made my blood boil.

As the team stood there waiting, my anger and defensiveness dissipated. Bucky was nowhere to be seen, and after putting the pieces together, I knew space was what he needed right now. It had to be almost half an hour before one of the young British soldiers came out and stood in front of us. We all looked up at him, eyebrows raised in attention, and the poor kid cleared his throat. He couldn’t be older than 19.

"For your mission to get Dr. Arnim Zola into custody, it was decided that it would be best to stay here tonight due to the location of your travels. We have men setting up an extra tent on the outskirts of camp for you all," he paused before turning to me, "and for you, ma'am—I mean, Sergeant Stark, we have separate quarters being arranged for your privacy."

"Thanks, pal," Dugan said, patting him on the shoulder, "any clue what dinner is gonna be?"

"Um, I think it is beef stew and bread, sir."

"Fantastic! We're eating good tonight fellas."

"Oh, Corporal Dugan, the stew will be brought to the fire pit outside your quarters. Our dining area is currently being repurposed as a medical tent."

"All is good, my boy, don't worry," Falsworth chimed in, walking up to him. "Thank you for letting us know."

The soldier curtly smiled and walked back into the tent. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding while looking around at the team and the camp.

"This is gonna be a long night," I muttered, looking around at the camp, suddenly feeling the weight of the mission as the team continued to wait for Steve.

Present Night

I sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Steve, staring into the fire. The warmth of the flames barely cut through the chill, and we each had a blanket wrapped around ourselves—Steve’s arm brushing mine beneath a larger one we shared. Dugan was the only other person still awake, absorbed in his own little world, reheating the leftover stew from earlier.

Silence stretched between us as I watched the flames dance. Every now and then, I felt Steve's heavy gaze on me. He wanted to talk about earlier—about Bucky. But my attention kept drifting to him instead. There he sat, perched at the edge of the mountain, his silhouette stark against the star-filled sky. Every so often, his head tilted upward, as if searching for answers in the stars.

Bucky barely has said anything since he took the Aspirin earlier. He walked over when the tent was finished being set up, placed his stuff down by a cot, and then went to collect wood for the fire. At dinner he mumbled a 'please' and 'thank you' but that was it. I took a deep breath and watched the hot air exit my nostrils like a dragon's breath before looking over at Steve.

"I gotta talk to him, Cap," I sighed, meeting Steve’s gaze. His big blue eyes were full of concern, the kind that made my chest tighten.

“Honestly, Y/N/N, I think he’d only talk to you about this,” Steve trailed off, his voice quieter. “I love the guy. He’s my brother. But part of me thinks he still wants me to see him as...the hero. The one who saved me from the bullies of Brooklyn,”

I chuckled, which made Steve crack a smile, "but he trusts you. And I do too."

I returned a closed-lip smile, and took a deep breath in, "I'm gonna go talk to him...but I'm stealing this blanket."

"By all means," he said, wiggling it off his shoulders. I chuckled and stood up, grabbing the blanket in my arms and walking towards Bucky.

I knew he heard me before I even got close—his body stiffened, his posture rigid, though he didn’t turn to look. I could feel him waiting for whoever he thought it was to reveal themselves.

"Just me," I said softly, draping the blanket over his shoulders.

"Thanks, doll," he mumbled, his voice distant. I sat beside him on the large rock, inching closer until our sides were pressed together. His face remained unreadable, but as the minutes passed, I saw something slip through the cracks—something that made my stomach tighten.

"You wanna talk about today at all?" I asked, softly. He looked up as if he was admiring the mountain ranges, but I knew he had millions of things running through his mind.

"As soon as I heard his name...my mind just went blank," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Like I had no control over it. My brain just shut itself out."

"I understand why you reacted the way you did, being who that guy is and all."

“What do you mean?” His voice tightened, a defensive edge creeping in. “How do you know him? You’ve never—”

"Steve showed me his picture today...after you left the tent,"  I said, watching him clench his jaw. "I recognized him as the guy who ran out of the room you were in, you know when…Steve and I broke into the factory."

Bucky looked from me and then down to his lap. A long pause hung in the air before he spoke. “His name...it just triggered something. Like I could hear Red Skull calling him over the intercom all over again.”

"It would trigger anyone if they had to go through what you did, Buck." I reached out to hold his hand, but as the words left my mouth, he looked at me with eyes filled with anger and confusion.

"You don't know anything that happened in that room, Y/N," he said lowly, and I could tell he was trying his best to hold back.

"Bucky," I softly started, regretting the can of worms I just opened, "I probably should have told you this a while back, but I know what he did…to you. At least to some extent."

He stared at me like a deer in headlights, his body moving away from mine in shock. "How?" he whispered.

I let out a deep breath and faced him, fiddling with my fingers. "When Steve and I found you, the lab's floor was littered with his notes and crumpled papers… Before we got you out of there, I stuffed my pockets with as much as they could hold. I thought that the SSR would want to know what Hydra was up to or see if Howard wanted to dissect the blueprints. I figured why not bring back some evidence…"

"The day we got back to the camp, I sat in Howard’s tent and went through the notes before giving them to Phillips and whoever else," I took a shaky breath and looked at him, and he was emotionless as he watched me speak. "Being almost fluent in German, I was able to fully read Zola's notes and plans...and I, I just—"

"Who did you tell," he demanded.

"No one," I breathed out, "I was so upset and had a puffy face from crying that I just stuffed them in a folder and went to bed. I haven't seen it since."

"Christ," Bucky said in a low tone. I felt the anxiety tingle throughout my body as words began to spill out of my mouth.

"I mean, I already had an idea of what happened, hence our conversation when I stopped you from accidentally going to the Colonel's tent, but—"

"Stop talking about it."

"I tried looking for the folder before we left London but I couldn't find it and—"

"Stop. Talking."

"I just felt so bad, and then thinking about all of your migraines recently I couldn't help but—"

"Y/N, JUST STOP!" Bucky's voice cracked as he shouted, the words laced with frustration and something more desperate. I froze, my mouth snapping shut as I looked up at him. "I don’t care if you know what that son of a bitch did or not," he continued, his voice shaking with the weight of it. "What happened, happened. There's nothing you can do to fucking change it,"

"My head has been fucking killing me, I'm sitting here wondering if I'm mentally capable enough to go on this mission tomorrow, and I don't need you here spewing all this shit about wanting to help or fix me. I don't need you to think you can or need to play scientist, I'm not some goddamn lab rat!"

I sat there completely frozen. I hadn't even noticed the tears that had rolled down my cheeks until the winter air made the water freeze on my skin. I swallowed hard and sat in silence, staring at Bucky.

It took him not even fifteen seconds for the realization of what he had just done to hit him. As soon as I saw his shoulders relax and his eyes soften, I leaned close to him with my straight, hardened face.

"Don't you ever raise your voice or curse at me like that again," I lowly demanded. I held eye contact with him for a few seconds, my jaw clenched. I got up and readjusted the blanket around me before heading back toward the fire.

I took a few steps, now a foot or so behind the rock, and I turned back to him. I know he sensed my presence still there, and his head turned so I only saw his profile.

"By the way, Barnes," I said, which got him to look up at me, "just in case you forgot, I don't need to 'play' scientist — I am one."

I didn't even bother waiting for his reaction before turning on my heels and walking back toward the fire. The tears started to well up in my eyes again, and as I quickly walked past the fire pit trying to cover my face, I felt Steve's eyes on me the entire time.

Chapter Text

I brushed open the heavy tarp that served as the entrance to my tent. I ripped off my boots and sat cross-legged on the cot, holding a pillow as I cried. The warm tears flowed down my cheeks, as if a riverbed had already been carved for them.

"Knock knock," Steve softly said as his head poked through the tarp flaps. I looked over at him and bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears, but seeing his sweet face filled with worry only caused more to spill over.

"Oh, sweetheart, come here," he said, walking inside and sitting beside me. I immediately hugged him, and his arms wrapped around me, rubbing my back. He held me for what seemed like hours, but it must have only been a few minutes before I pulled back.

I looked up at his face, and he gave me a sad smile before his thumbs wiped under my eyes. "I heard everything from my spot by the fire. You don't need to explain."

"I'm just worried about him, Steve," I whispered. "You didn't read Zola's notes—the ones I took from the lab. They were... they—" My voice faltered, and Steve found my hand, holding it and stopping the slight shake.

"Hey, it's okay, Y/N. Take your time," he said, rubbing circles on the back of my hand.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "Zola did a lot of fucked-up shit to him, Steve. I saw the equipment when we rescued him, and I had at least an idea, but after reading his notes, it was so much worse than I thought."

He watched me intently as I spoke, and his handkerchief appeared in front of my nose. I chuckled as he held it there before I took it and wiped my nose myself. I used the other corner to dry under my eyes, and Steve gave a small smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm a mess," I said, letting out a breathy laugh. "I'm an ugly crier, so even more apologies."

"Eh, I wouldn’t say ugly, but you’re definitely a sight to see," he said, grinning, earning a glare and playful nudge from me. "I’m here for you, always, Stark. You know that."

"And I appreciate it more than you know, blondie." I gave him a grateful smile as he pulled me in for another hug. I gave him a peck on the cheek and squeezed a little tighter before we pulled back.

"I'm gonna go talk to him, even though I wanna smack him upside the head," Steve said, getting up from my bed, which got a laugh out of me. "You should get into some comfortable clothes and get some sleep. We’ve got quite the day tomorrow."

"Thank you, Steve," I said, looking up at him. "Really."

"No need to thank me. It's what best friends are for." With that, he left my tent, and the sound of his boots grew fainter as he walked away.

As I sat there, taking in my surroundings, I realized how nicely the British had set this up. The lieutenant may have been an asshole earlier, and I may not have been too happy about being treated like an accessory to the Howlies, but right now, I was more than thankful for my own space. It was quaint, but they’d put a full comforter on the cot and double-tarped the tent for extra warmth, since it was winter.

I changed out of my tactical gear and threw on some waffle-knit long johns, putting a thick sweater over my long-sleeved shirt. I pulled on a pair of thick wool socks and walked over to a makeshift vanity made of three stacked wooden crates. I placed my dog tags on the surface next to the oil lamp and pulled the bobby pins out of my hair to reuse in the morning.

As my hair fell from my head and onto my back, I heard the tarp flaps move and felt a rush of cold air enter the space. I grabbed the pistol that rested next to the clips and spun around in an instant, only to find a pair of bloodshot blue eyes at the end of my barrel.

My shoulders dropped as I saw Bucky standing there, and I placed the gun on the surface behind me.

"You scared the daylights out of me, Barnes," I breathed out, the anxiety leaving my body.

Without saying a word, he walked over and immediately pulled me into a hug. My arms instinctively wrapped around him, one hand on his back and the other on the back of his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I am so, so sorry." I felt his body shudder slightly as I held him, and I just rubbed circles on his back and ran my fingers up and down the back of his head. We stood there for a few minutes, just holding each other.

"Honey, it's alright," I whispered. "Thank you."

He pulled back and looked at me, his hand brushing the side of my face. "This might be bad timing, but your eyes look really pretty after you cry."

I rolled my eyes and playfully shoved his chest. He cracked a smile before continuing, "But I really am sorry, doll…I shouldn’t have yelled or talked to you the way I did. I was caught off guard when you mentioned Zola's notes because of, well, everything you obviously know about." He cleared his throat before continuing.

"It was just something I thought no one else knew, and for someone to know, let alone that person be my girl... I— I got really defensive when I shouldn’t have, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry," he said, never breaking eye contact. My hand came up to hold his cheek.

"Buck, I appreciate you apologizing," I said, rubbing my thumb along his skin. "I'm sorry for pressing before. I just want you to know you don’t have to go through this on your own. You have me. You have Steve. We’re here for you."

He smiled and leaned into my hand. "I know, doll," he whispered. "I know now."

He moved his head, then took the hand I was holding to his face and kissed it. As he looked into my eyes, I saw that my Bucky was back. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in for another hug, and as we pulled apart, one hand slid to my waist and the other held my hand.

I smiled bashfully at him, and he began humming a little tune. I rested my head on his chest as we swayed in the tent for I don’t know how long, listening to his soft hums over the sounds of the wind howling outside.

"I could stay in your arms forever, Bucky Barnes," I whispered.

A little chuckle echoed through his chest, and I looked up to see him already smiling down at me.

"I want you in my arms forever, Y/N Stark," he said, and I felt my cheeks tinged pink.

Bucky placed a soft kiss on my lips, pulling back with a smile before kissing me again. I returned his sweet, innocent kiss, but it quickly became hungry and filled with passion. My hands trailed up his chest and looped around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair.

His one hand stayed on my waist and the other cupped my jaw. His fingers rested on the back of my neck, and he tugged on my hair causing me to slightly moan into the kiss. He smirked and ran his tongue across my bottom lip, pleading. Our lips, tongues, bodies, everything, moved in sync. I felt the heat in my body rising as the kisses became more demanding, and without even noticing, my fingers began to unbutton his jacket before pulling it off him.

Bucky's hand on my waist pulled me closer to him, and in one swift movement, I broke the kiss and pushed him back on the cot. He looked up at me with wild desire running through his eyes, and he quickly sat up and tugged at my sweater, pulling me onto his lap.

Straddling him, he grabbed my face and kissed me harder. I rolled my hips into him as I undid his belt and pants button, already feeling the friction below me as he moaned into the kiss. Both of his hands moved down to my butt as his lips found their way to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses that went up to my ear. He nipped my ear lobe making me gasp, only turning him on more as he grinded up against me.

I felt his touch at the hems of my sweater and shirt, his fingers lingering like a tease. My breath hitched as his fingers grazed my skin, and he took that as the go-ahead to lift the clothing over my head. Our eyes locked as we breathed heavily, and his eyes were so blue and filled with lust that I could drown in them.

"Doll, I-"

"Shut up," I mumbled before crashing my lips into his and pulling him back onto the bed. I pulled at the hem of his shirt, and in one swift movement, he pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it on the floor. The pomade in his hair had started to loosen, and a few strands fell over his forehead as he hovered over me. He wasted no time returning to my lips but soon made his way to my neck before his kisses trailed to my collarbone.

One hand was caressing my covered breast as Bucky rolled his hips into mine, and with his lips pressed against my skin, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone more. He trailed kisses down to my waistband and looked up at me as his two fingers teasingly slid under the waistband of my pants.

"What're these still doing on," he mumbled with a smirk, now taking the waistband in both hands and pulling them right off. "May I?" he asked, his fingers trailing the hem of my panties.

"Please," I breathed out, basically begging, and he licked his lips knowing I was falling apart in front of him. He pulled off the fabric and leaned down, placing kisses along my hip bones and inner thighs painfully slow. "God, Buck, please," I breathed as his eyes darted to mine, the classic smirk forming on his lips at the sound of his name.

"What do you want, doll?" he asked, his thumb massaging my clit as his hot breath teased me. He applied a little more pressure, and teased my entrance with his pointer and middle fingers, eliciting a quiet moan. "You're already dripping for me."

I gasped and rolled my hips, not being able to contain myself. My knuckles were white as I gripped the sheets, and my other hand gripped the pillow my head was on. I made eye contact with Bucky as he continued moving his thumb in slow circles, his eyes on me like I was his prey. 

This was the first time, our first opportunity even, to have sex. Months of agonizing teasing and oral have been building up to this moment – and holy hell was this already worth the wait. 

"Use your words..." he whispered, but I couldn't take it anymore. My hand reached out and pulled up on his dog tags, and his lips were instantly on mine. I found the waistband of his pants, undid the zipper, and yanked; the layers coming off altogether. His hand slid under my back and unclasped my bra, pulling it off, and I felt his legs move as he removed the pants from his ankles.

He pulled away and looked into my eyes, his dog tags dangling from his neck. We lay there breathing heavily for a few seconds, and my hand reached up and rested on his cheek, "I want you," I whispered. That was all he needed as he lined himself up and slowly slid into me.

We both let out delighted moans as his full cock entered me. His thrusts were slow and calculated, and it was euphoric to feel every inch of him inside of me. We held each other’s gaze, and admiration radiated from this man. 

As seconds passed, his eyelids became heavier, and his thrusts soon became deeper, harder, and faster; and my eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. The euphoria built up in my body as his dog tags moved with him, and my legs wrapped around his fit torso. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but as he kissed and sucked my neck while I tightened around him, a moan escaped my lips.

His hand covered my mouth and he slowed his movements, his thrusts becoming agonizingly slow as he went deeper with each one. "Be quiet for me, doll," he said, his voice low as his lips grazed my ear, "take it like the good girl you are."

As the words left his mouth, Bucky slammed his hips into me. My nails clawed his back as I clung to him, my lips sucking on his collarbone to keep quiet. My legs tightened even more around his torso as one hand made it up to his hair, pulling on the soft brown strands. He muttered curse words under his breath, and I nipped at his earlobe.

"I love feeling your whole cock inside me," I breathed out, causing Bucky to moan and grab my jaw, locking my lips with his. Our mouths moved against each other like fingers on piano keys, rhythmic and smooth. His thrusts became more like our kisses, slowing down and moving connectedly.

My whole body began to tingle as I felt my lower abdomen tighten. All I wanted was to be closer to him than humanly possible as the tension in my body rose. Feeling him throbbing inside me was sending me over the edge, and he slowed his thrusts even more, making me feel every inch of him.

"Finish for me, doll," his raspy voice said, filling my thoughts. As I neared my peak, my legs and walls tightened around him.

"Fuck," I breathed out, the next few words strung together either being his name or curses. His hand covered my mouth again as my orgasm hit, my whole body feeling exhilarated.

"Fuck, yes, sweetheart," he moaned into my ear. Still riding out my high, Bucky's eyebrows knit together, his teeth biting his bottom lip. His thrusts became sloppier, and I felt my whole body tingle again. The aftershock spread through my body like wildfire, our gasps and moans in sync as Bucky pumped himself deep inside me. His lips crashed into mine as I began to finish again. My whole body was still wrapped around him as I came down, and I could tell he was trying to hold out. 

"Cum for me, Buck...just for me," I whispered, breathing on his neck.

He melted as the words left my mouth, and with a few thrusts, he pulled out and released himself onto my stomach. His furrowed eyebrows relaxed as he came down from his high, his blue eyes opening and meeting mine as we both gasped for air.

His hand found my cheek as he hovered above me. His eyes danced over my features, his thumb running over my bottom lip. "You're so beautiful, you know that?"

I smiled and gently pulled his tags to bring him down to kiss me again. "Even with my hair stuck to my face and sweat dripping off me?" I mumbled against his lips.

"Oh, especially," he smiled, then kissed me again. He pulled back and got off me, reaching for the stack of rags left in the tent. He used one on himself, discarded it, and grabbed another to clean me up.

"You know, those were left for the morning to freshen up with, sir," I teased as he tossed the rag into the bin and picked up my clothes from the floor.

"Well, it's past midnight, so consider it morning, ma'am," he sassed back. I watched him slip his boxers and long johns back on, then he turned mine right-side-out before handing them to me. I looked up at him and smiled softly, my thoughts running wild. Oh, God. I think, no I know, I love this man... Jesus.

"You're staying, right?" I asked softly as he folded his clothes into flawlessly smooth squares like the soldier he was trained to be.

"If that's okay with you," he responded, placing them on a chair. "I can leave before the guys wake up, though, if you want."

"Just come 'ere," I said, pulling him into the cot. A grin spread across his face as I tugged at his arm, pulling him under the covers. I snuggled up to his side, resting my head on his chest as his arms wrapped around me. He traced the little freckles along my arms, humming some tune like he always did. We usually snuggled during midnight watch shifts or by the fire after dinner, but there was something extra comforting about snuggling after sex.

As his body became my personal furnace, I felt my eyelids grow heavy as my mind started to slip. I felt Bucky's head move, and in seconds, the tent was consumed by darkness. He pulled the blankets higher, covering me more, and his fingers grazed my skin like he was tracing constellations.

As I drifted to sleep, he placed a soft kiss on my forehead. The last thing I heard was his sigh before he whispered, "Who woulda thought, finding the love of my life while fightin' a world war...sleep well, doll."

Chapter Text

The sound of trumpets and truck engines caused Bucky to groan, ultimately waking me up. We went from peacefully cuddling when we fell asleep to a tangled mess of limbs. I snuggled myself deeper into him as a horn blared, and I felt the cold slither into our blanket cocoon as he removed his arm from under the covers to grab his watch.

"It's 6 a.m., sweetheart," he said, his voice still thick with sleep. “We technically got an extra hour since we didn't have our personal, Brooklyn-born alarm clock."

I chuckled and craned my neck to look at him, his hair pointing in every direction since he hadn't washed out yesterday's pomade. "Oh, please. You love Steve waking everyone up every morning."

"Eh, it has its perks. It's good for figuring out his mood for the day."

"His Cancer ass," I mumbled, "never know if we're getting the crab's claws or not."

Bucky looked at me quizzically, amusement and confusion draping his features.

"Nevermind," I said before kissing his neck. "We should get ready though, y'know before someone goes looking for you and finds you here since you didn't sleep in their tent last night. We’d never hear the end of it."

"You make great points, doll." Bucky took a deep breath before putting his hands on the blanket edges, "brace for the cold in three, two, one..."

He tossed the thick quilt and blankets off, both of us shuddering at the shock of the cold air. It was the middle of January in the Alps, so this was to be expected, but after being next to Bucky all night this frigid air felt like a sick joke.

Goosebumps littered my skin as I checked all over this side of the tent for my bra. I had hurriedly thrown on new long johns and tactical pants, but since I was still in my pajamas on top, all that rushing seemed to be for nothing. "Where is that god-forsaken thing…" I mumbled.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" Bucky asked as I got on my hands and knees to look under the cot.

"I can't find my bra anywhere, Buck," I said as I got back up. "Where on Earth did you throw it last—" I looked at him standing next to the bed, still shirtless, the fabric hanging from his pointer finger with a smirk etched into his face. "You jerk," I said, smiling.

I reached forward it as he swiftly moved it out of reach. I playfully glared at him and shuffled with my knees across the mattress to get it. "Bucky, give me the bra."

"I don't know, doll, your tits look really nice right now," he said before laughing and raising his arm so I couldn't reach it.

"It's because they're cold—now give me the bra!" I couldn't help but laugh along with him, and as I tried to reach for it, his free hand found its way around my torso and pulled me close to him.

I smiled and tilted my head up. “If I give you a kiss, will you give it to me?”

"Well, that does seem like a fair trade," he smiled looking down.

I placed a soft kiss on his lips, and as I pulled away, he leaned in and kissed me again. We broke apart smiling like giddy schoolchildren, but Bucky still held me close to him. He dropped the bra on the bed and he took my hands in his. He looked like he had something to say, so I raised my eyebrows as a silent nudge and he took a deep breath.

"If we were back in the States I would've done this a while ago, and it was never the right time because all of the Hydra jackasses runnin' around," he said as his thumb moved in circles on the back of my hand, "It's not like I have anything fancy to give you right now but...I was wondering if you'd wanna wear one of my tags, y'know, until we get back and I can get ya something nicer."

I felt my eyebrows raise to at least my hairline, and it felt like my heart stopped. The panic disappeared in his eyes as a smile grew on my face, and my arms flew around his neck, "Oh, Buck," I breathed out before pulling away.

"Just a little something to show you're my girl," he said with the sweetest smile on his face. He unsnapped one of the chains and took it off, placing it around my neck and snapping it shut. As he moved my hair out from under the chain, I looked down and held the silver dog tag in my hand. I ran my fingers over the stamped "J A M E S   B   B A R N E S" and smiled up at him, my hand cupping his cheek.

"Bucky, I—" I had started to speak but he leaned down and kissed me again, but this time it was full of passion. The heat grew between us as our lips moved together rhythmically, our tongues meeting and teeth nibbling at the bottom lips.

We pulled apart as a stampede of boots slammed against the cold ground right beside the tent, knocking us back into reality. We stayed there for a moment, our breathing becoming more even. Bucky's eyes danced over my face as if he was sketching this moment into his memory, and I was savoring every moment I could stare into those icy blues.

His two hands came up and clutched my cheeks as his eyes met mine, and he stared right into the deepest parts of my soul, my breath catching in my throat. The hairs on my skin rose, and the butterflies in my stomach settled almost instantly when his thumb grazed over my cheekbone.

His lips parted as he was about to speak, but the tent flaps swung open and the Star-Spangled Man made his entrance. "Hey, Y/N, I just—"

I immediately crossed my arms to cover my chest, and my face, as well as Bucky's, tinged pink. Steve stood there all geared up and shoulders squared. Upon realizing his best friend was also present and our state of minimal clothing, his whole face blushed and he rested his hands on his belt.

"Mission briefing in 10, heading out in 15. Just so you know," Steve said, clearing his throat. "Don't be late or we're leaving without you."

"You got it, pal. We'll be out in a jiffy," Bucky replied with a hint of sarcasm. Steve gave him a tight smile and rolled his eyes.

"Glad to know you didn't freeze outside in the snow all night," Steve teased.

"Shut it, punk."

Steve chuckled as he went to leave before turning to Bucky once more. "One last thing, make sure you fix the hair, jerk."

I laughed at Steve's comment as he walked out of the tent, leaving Bucky and me to quickly get dressed. I picked up the bra and threw the rest of my gear on. I walked over to the stack of wood crates where my dog tags and bobby pins were, picking up one of the tags.

"Hey, Buck. Catch," I said with a smile, his head snapping up and catching the silver metal as I tossed it. "A tag for a tag, loverboy."

He glanced at the dog tag and then up to me before putting it around his neck, not being able to hide the smile that was sneaking up on his lips. I couldn't help myself from smiling as well as I braided my hair and pinned it back, ready to get this son-of-a-bitch Zola and be that much closer to stopping Hydra for good. 

----

The cold wind weaved itself through the Alps, lightly breezing past Steve and me as we stood on the edge of a snowy plateau. Looking down at the train tracks above the Danube River, I glanced over at Falsworth whose eyes were in the binoculars. He gave a single nod that the zip line cable was secured across the ravine before turning his attention to the direction the train would be coming from. Bucky walked over and stood next to me, his hand finding the small of my back.

Gabe and Morita were squatting next to the radio Buck and I stole from Hydra to listen for any radio transmissions, and Dugan stood on the other side of the ledge watching for any movement in the woods. Frenchie sat on a rock inspecting every trolley and handle attachment we were using to slide down.

The plan was to have Steve, Bucky, Gabe, and I infiltrate the train and get Zola while also securing and taking inventory of their weapons. The three of us were to enter through a top hatch or sliding door while Gabe made his way to the front in case they detached the train cars. Either way, we were getting out of here with Zola.

"Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?" Buck asked as the three of us looked down into the ravine.

"Yeah, and I threw up?" Steve answered.

"This isn't payback, is it?" He said, earning a chuckle from me.

"Now why would I do that?" Steve answered, his words dripping with sarcasm. The two of them cracked smiles and shook their heads, and I jokingly nudged Steve's side.

"The intel was right," Gabe said from behind us, "Dr. Zola is on that train." We spun around to look at him and walked over in his direction, "Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he's going, they must need him bad."

I looked up at Bucky who glanced down at me and then up at Steve. He looked at the two of us and gave a single nod before putting his helmet on. Buck looked off into the distance and down at his boots before I took his chin and made him look at me.

"Hey, everything will be fine. Get outta that handsome head of yours," I said with a soft smile, his blue eyes looking into mine.

He laced our fingers together, letting out a deep breath he didn't seem to know he was holding. I kissed the back of his hand, and his smile grew before placing a soft kiss on my lips. Frenchie walked up to us and handed us each our own handled trolley before quickly handing Gabe and Cap theirs.

Tucking the trolley under my arm to tighten my leather gloves, Falsworth's eyebrows furrowed as he pulled the binoculars from his face, "Let's get going because they're moving like the devil."

The four of us lined up behind each other, Steve in front followed by Bucky, me, and Gabe as the caboose. "We only got about a ten-second window," Steve yelled over his shoulder, "you miss that window, we're bugs on a windshield."

I heard Bucky gulp in front of me at Steve's words, and Frenchie walked up beside us ready to count us down jump by jump.

"Mind the gap," Falsworth added.

"Better get moving, bugs!" Dugan yelled, earning a chuckle from me. He nudged my side with a smile and mumbled, "You'll be fine, Hun."

Steve stood ready for Dernier's count, and as the train engine roared by, he shouted in French and Steve jumped. Buck immediately hooked his trolley on, jumping seconds after Steve as I watched him fly down.

As I hitched the trolley onto the metal line, I felt the vibrations from their weight and the wind rattling against the metal. My stomach began to do tiny flips even though I was the one who told Buck that we'd all be fine, and my gut couldn't help but tell me otherwise.

At Frenchie's yell, I leaped from the snowy rock and zoomed down the zip line. After the initial drop, flying down the wire wasn't so bad. My heart left my throat and began to relax as I saw Steve drop on the train roof. Bucky did the same seconds after, followed by me, and I heard Gabe land behind me.

Our feet tapped against the metal in sync as we ran down the train roof, hopping over the gaps and trying to land as quietly as possible. I saw Rogers stop and start to go down a little ladder on the side of one of the cars. I leaped across the gap and kneeled behind Bucky.

Gabe drew his gun as Steve slid the train car door open, and Bucky went down the ladder after him. I nodded at Gabe, and he returned it as I made my way down the ladder and into the car, sliding the metal door shut behind me.

“Quite the collection…” I mumbled as my eyes scanned the train car. Latched metal cases and wood-paneled boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling on shelving that lined the entire car, even with a row down the middle. The Hydra emblem was either burned onto the wood or spray painted onto the cases, and the fresh mixed scents overtaking my senses enlightened me on just how quickly this transport and plan must have been put together.

The car was eerily quiet as we walked through it, and all that could be heard was the clanging of the train wheels against the tracks, not even our breathing. Bucky and I both had our guns drawn as we followed Steve toward one of the door openings.

I checked behind me to do a last-glance clear before moving up the train, and I froze as I saw movement through the dark window at the back of the train car. I shook my head and turned to follow the guys, but as Steve walked into the next train car and Bucky stood in the gangway, both sets of doors shut separating all of us. I heard the latches lock into place — those doors were not budging. Steve spun around, his eyes wide, and Bucky looked between the two of us in a panic.

“Y/N!” I heard Bucky scream as the door on the other side of my train car opened. I didn’t have time to respond as the sound of boots slamming against the metal floor pulled me into the fight. I turned, firing rapidly, bullets cutting through the air as Hydra soldiers poured into the car.

In the distance, blasts echoed, and I heard the unmistakable clang of Steve’s shield. I tried to focus on my fight, keeping my aim steady, as my heart pounding in my chest. Bucky’s shout echoed in my head, and I could hear the butt of his gun slamming against the door and glass.

A few men were already down, but two more entered the car, and I found myself trapped between a stack of boxes and the metal wall. I rose quickly, firing at them as they used the crates for cover. I managed to land a couple of hits, but they were fast—darting behind the crates and returning fire.

Bullets slammed into the metal wall just above my head. I ducked, my hand already reaching for a fresh magazine, but then I froze. ‘No more ammo,’ I thought.

Their shouts and directions to each other got louder as they inched closer, and I shoved the half-empty cartridge into place, quickly standing to fire again. But the soldiers kept coming, and I soon found myself staring down a gun with no bullets in it.

More gunfire echoed from the other car, and I glanced at the window, catching the blue reflection of Steve's shield in the flashes. With no time to lose, I swung my rifle behind me and drew my pistol from its thigh holster. ‘Better than nothing,’ I thought, squeezing off a few rounds at the soldiers as I moved across the car.

They had gotten too comfortable aiming at that corner — and I was not letting them hit me today.

Realizing I only had three bullets left in the pistol, my breath quickened, and sweat began to bead on my forehead. I gripped the handle tighter, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Alright, you got this," I muttered to myself, voice shaky. 

I steadied my breath and peeked around the crates, squeezing off a shot. The yelp that followed told me I hit one of them. Two more shots, two more yelps. I ducked back behind the crates, pulling the pistol's magazine out. Empty. Not a single round left.

"...fuck me."

I slapped the side of the gun in frustration, my face burning. Anxiety twisted my stomach into knots. For all I knew, Steve was dead, captured, or worse. Poor Bucky was rendered useless as the bullet and shatter-proof glass and metal kept him apart from both of us. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to push the panic away.

The sound of the car door sliding open snapped me back to reality. Bucky was flat against the wall, his eyes hard with focus, ready to shoot anyone who came too close. I could see the pure anger on his features, more so than when he yelled at those soldiers back in London for talking about me. Steve was there ready to toss me a gun, and I nodded as he waved his pistol in the air. I immediately tossed mine to the side and caught his without missing a beat.

Without hesitation, Steve charged in, slamming into one of the crates and sending it sliding into a soldier. The others ducked, then sprang back up, but they didn’t get far—Bucky and I were already firing, bullets cutting through the air and dropping them before they could react.

I let out the breath I was holding and lowered my gun as the last Hydra soldier dropped to the ground, feeling the weight of the moment ease a bit. But before I could even relax, Bucky pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly.

"Oh, oh my god," I muttered into his chest, still trying to steady my heartbeat. I pulled back, needing to get my bearings.

His hands cupped my face, his expression serious but soft. "You had them on the ropes, doll."

"Hell yeah, she did," Steve added with a grin, scanning the area. 

But then—that noise.

A low, mechanical whirring hummed from behind us. We turned in unison, and my eyes locked onto the massive figure lumbering toward us. A hulking, mechanical beast—it's dark metal plating jagged and worn, powered by that unmistakable blue energy core. Its legs hissed and groaned with every step, and its glowing core pulsed with a terrifying energy.

Shit.

"GET DOWN!" Steve yelled, shoving Bucky and me behind him and the shield. The machine man fired, and the blast slammed into the vibranium with a deafening clang. The shield absorbed the force, but the sheer power of the shot tore a massive hole in the side of the train car.

The shot sent us flying. Steve was thrown into the wall, Bucky hit the floor with a heavy thud, and I was hurled backward into a pile of crates—and what I thought were dead Hydra.

As I tried to get up, a hand with a knife flew toward my neck, but I moved quickly enough that it only caught the top fabric of my jacket and my shoulder, and snapped open my dog tags. I hissed at the burning pain in my neck, realizing he sliced through my gun sling and caught some of my skin in the process.

"You fucker," I mumbled as I stood up and slammed my boot into his head, without a doubt knocking him out. Before I could even process that my tags and rifle were lying on the floor of the train car, I looked to my left to see Bucky holding Steve's shield with a handgun drawn.

Bucky stepped forward, firing at the machine, but as its massive arms whirred to life, I saw the blast coming too late. The machine fired back, and Bucky was thrown from the train like a ragdoll.

"BUCKY!" I screamed, rushing toward the hole. Steve was already up, grimacing as he scrambled for the shield. I didn’t hesitate, my eyes locking on the side of the train. There he was—Bucky, hanging on for dear life, his fingers barely gripping a metal bar.

"I’m coming! I got you!" I shouted, panic clawing at my chest.

His eyes were wide with panic, his brows furrowed in worry. Thanking God I’d remembered my leather gloves, I carefully inched out onto the more secure bar, trying to make my way toward him. The wind howled, whipping everything around us—our bodies, our clothes, the air itself—relentless and unforgiving.

"Give me your hand!" I shouted. "Buck, grab my wrist!"

I locked eyes with him, my arm outstretched, one hand clinging to the metal bar still attached to the train. He reached out, but just as quickly, his hand flew back to his bar as he slipped a little.

"TRUST ME, PLEASE!" I cried, desperation clear in my voice.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then looked back at me. With a hard swallow, he finally reached for my outstretched arm. Our wrists connected, and he grabbed onto me with everything he had.

"I got ya, babe! I got ya!" I shouted, pulling him toward me, my grip tight on his forearm.

But then the bar beneath me started to shake.

Snapping my head toward the sound, I saw Steve, his face twisted in pure panic. One boot barely fit onto the metal, the other still searching for a foothold.

"BUCKY! Y/N!" he yelled, his voice strained with fear. "I'M COMING, I’LL GET YOU GUYS!"

My heart pounded. I could feel the metal beneath us groaning, giving way under the pressure of Bucky and me, and I knew there was no way it could hold the weight of all three of us.

"Blondie! I got him! Move back!" I shouted, but Steve was already trying to inch closer, ignoring me, determined to get to us.

"Hang on!" he barked, his eyes wild as he fought to get closer, his body still mostly inside the train.

"STEVE!" I screamed, my voice barely cutting through the howl of the wind. "The bar is giving out! Move so I can get back over!"

"What?!" Steve shouted back, his words almost lost to the roar of the wind.

As I turned to him, my stomach dropped and my eyes pleaded. Before we could register what was happening, I saw the bolt come loose from the metal bar I was on, the bar detaching from the blasted metal. My eyes darted from the bar to Steve, his face reflecting the same panic, and I reached for his hand.

Relief flooded my being as his hand grappled around mine, big enough to take hold of my forearm too. But that relief was quickly replaced with panic as I felt Bucky’s clammy hands start to slip.

“You gotta lift us both—NOW,” I demanded. I looked down at Bucky, my left shoulder straining from his body weight as he dangled in the wind.

“I’m trying,” Steve strained, his footing still uneasy. I heard his feet shuffling as I looked down at Bucky, his panicked eyes imprinting on my memory. With one big gust of wind, I tightened my grip on both of them, but only one hand squeezed back. 

“No! No!” I screamed, my voice cracking as it was swallowed by the wind. My heart was hammering in my chest as I tried to tighten my grip again, desperate, but his hand slipped away like sand through my fingers

My heart lurched as I no longer felt Bucky’s touch; only Steve’s iron grip on my forearm, holding me steady.

"BUCKY!" I screamed, but my voice was lost in the roaring wind, in the panic that had completely consumed me. The sight of him, falling, vanishing into the snowy abyss, and his screams—his desperate cries—echoed faintly, swallowed by the distance.

Steve, still holding onto me, shifted his weight as he tried to ground us both. But I wasn’t focused on him, I wasn’t even aware of the freezing wind tearing at my skin. My entire body was frozen as I dangled there, still gripping Steve’s arm, my mind clinging to the hollow space where Bucky had been just moments ago.

The reality of it crashed down on me like a tidal wave, dragging me under and crushing everything inside me. Bucky was gone.

"Y/N, I’ve got you. I’ve got you," Steve said, his voice cracking. He tightened his grip on me, trying to pull me back into the moment. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. 

I looked up at him, my tear-streaked face meeting his own. “Lift me,” I mumbled, my bottom lip trembling. 

Steve repositioned his right foot on the train car, and with a sturdy foundation, successfully lifted me back inside. My legs buckled as soon as my feet hit the ground, and I collapsed against the metal wall of the car, my breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Steve sat beside me, his breath ragged, but I couldn’t look at him. Tears began to fall, slow at first, then faster, until they came in a relentless stream. I couldn’t stop them.

"Y/N," Steve’s voice was so quiet, so raw, I barely heard it over the rush of blood in my ears.

I let out a sob, loud and broken, and in an instant, Steve was pulling me into his arms. His chest heaved with his own silent sobs, and we sat there together, clinging to each other as the train entered the tunnel and the darkness consumed the car. 

Chapter Text

We had been back in London for twelve hours. I sat in the empty lab in the SSR’s underground headquarters, still in my tactical gear. A bandage adorned my neck, covering the cut skin and a tetanus shot. It feels like last week I was sitting in here with Howard before Steve asked me to join his team.

That was almost a year and a half ago. Bucky fell from the train just over twenty-four hours ago. 

A light knock on the door shook me from my thoughts, and I saw Steve in his military dress through the window. I gave him a nod and he walked in, intentionally shutting the door quietly behind him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. I looked down at my lap, not having an answer. My brain sounded like radio static. Nothing.

“Colonel wants your report,” Steve said softly as he pulled out a chair and sat across from me. I glanced up, now seeing how our eyes mirrored each other’s. Red, irritated, dry. I smelled the whisky on him, but unfortunately, I also knew he couldn’t get drunk. 

“Already wrote it,” I responded, my voice scratchy from not being used. 

“A report that’s longer than five sentences.”

“He fell to his death. I watched. What else do you want me to write?”

Steve took a deep breath, and I could see it on his face that he held back from rolling his eyes. He looked down at his lap and the quietness lingered in the room. 

“You’re not the only one that’s hurting,” he finally said. “Buck…he, he was my best friend. The only thing I had.”

“I know,” I answered, barely above a whisper. “If I just…”

“No, no, no, don’t do that—”

“If I just,” my voice broke, “held on tighter. If—”

“Don’t put this on yourself, Stark.”

“If it was just you, me and Gabe. If we didn’t get separated on the train. If you didn’t try to come get us—”

“Don’t you dare put this on me—”

“I’m not.”

“You just said—”

“IT’S ON ALL OF US, STEVE!”

His jaw snapped shut, his eyes glassy. I felt a singular tear roll down my cheek, my throat tight and burning from trying to hold back from crying.

“We could have all done something more, something different,” I choked. 

“And ya don’t think I haven’t already thought of that?” he spat. “I’ve been replaying the entire mission in my head like clockwork, and every time, I think of something that could have been different,” 

“What if we entered a different train car? What if I destroyed that goddamn machine instead of just knocking out whoever was inside? What if we just blew up the train from a distance and called it a day?” Steve’s voice cracked as he finished speaking, and he wasn’t quick enough to hide the tears that now slid down his cheeks. “Peg already tried to tell me it's not my fault…but it's always gonna feel like it.”

Another long silence hung in the room. We sat across from each other, a sniffle slightly echoing here and there. Steve kept his gaze in his lap, but I couldn’t help but look at him. 

He was broken. In front of me wasn’t Captain America, or the world’s only super soldier. In front of me was Steve Rogers, a young guy from Brooklyn who just wanted to make the world a better place.

“He loved you, you know.” 

I smiled, an essence of sadness gracing it, but a smile nonetheless. Words were trapped in my throat like they were clawing to get out but couldn’t. All I could do was nod, and one loud sniffle from Steve and the sound of the chair scratching against the linoleum sent the gears in my brain into motion. 

“I’ll see you at the briefing?” he asked, hand on the doorknob. 

“Steve…come with me.” 

His brows knit in confusion, “come with you where?”

“Rogers…” I stood up from the chair, making my way over to him. “He fell right before the tunnel entrance. If we just—”

“Y/N if there was any chance—” 

“I came with you to rescue him the first time, now come back to Austria with me to rescue him again!”

Steve stared down at me, his eyes pleading and conflicted. One hand found his hip as he hung his head, still holding his weight on the doorknob. “I’m taking Schmidt and all of Hydra down for what they did…if you don’t find him by then, I’ll come help.”

“Cap—”

“I’ll tell the Colonel you were too distraught to attend the briefing. That should buy you time.”

My arms wrapped around him, and relief washed over my body. “Give ‘em hell, Steve.”

“You know I will,” he said as his arms wrapped around me. “Find Bucky and bring him home.”

“You know I will.”

—

“Where is that thing…” I muttered as I shut another banker’s box in Howard’s storage room. I dragged the little step stool down another foot to the next shelf, hopping up to open one of the only other boxes that would have what I was looking for. 

I moved envelope after envelope, trinket after trinket. My eye caught a worn-looking green box resting under about five or six small manilla envelopes. I wiggled it out from underneath everything, and as I opened the delicate lid, I threw my head back in relief. 

“Here you are, you silly little bugger,” I said, taking the only other working prototype of the transponder we made. I held up the metal rectangle, kind of admiring it after looking for it for god knows how long.

“And what do you think you’re doing? Or taking, rather?” 

If I startled more easily, I would have fallen off of the stool at the sound of my brother’s voice. He stood there at the end of the aisle, hands on his hip and tie loose looking like a father who caught his kid in a cookie jar after his long day at work. 

“Just borrowing, cool it.” I put the transponder in one of my vest pockets and closed the banker's box. Stepping down, I realized the entire area looked undisturbed—perfect. 

“And why are you borrowing it?” 

All I could do was look at him. I felt as though my face was neutral, but as I watched my brother’s eyes clock my backpack, vest, and freshly braided hair, I knew that a straight face was no help to me here. 

“Sis…”

“You know I need to, brother.” He swallowed thickly at my statement. I watched as the muscles in his jaw tensed, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“...I know” he whispered. “You can’t forget that we almost lost you too, though—and I don’t know what I would’ve done if we did.” 

The crack in his voice made my heart break, and for the probably twentieth time today at the very least, I felt my eyeballs begin to sting and my palms become clammy.

“I’m gonna bring him home, Howard…he deserves that at the very least.” 

“I know,” he whispered, looking at his feet, his arms crossed against his chest. 

“And if I don’t come back, you gotta promise not to go after me,” I breathed out, “promise.” 

His head snapped up at my statement. There was a flash of betrayal in his eyes before pure heartbreak. His mouth was slightly agape, undoubtedly unable to find words for the first time in his life. 

“That’s, that is utterly insane to even suggest, Y/N,” he stammered, “let alone promise.” 

“Howard,” I said sternly, my hands finding his shoulders. “This war is bigger than me. Steve needs you, Peg needs you. Hell, the country and the world need you…but I need to do this.”

He didn’t meet my eyes, his lips now pursed together as his nostrils slightly flared. “But, I need you.” 

My arms wrapped around him instantly. As much as he gets on my nerves, I love my brother with my entire being. We made it through so much together, the bad times before money had come into our lives, or when our mother was comparable to the Wicked Witch of the West and our father was more drunk than the sea. 

I took in a deep, quivering breath, tightening my grip around him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid.”

“I was planning to take your plane, by the way. To the base near Innsbruck.”

A slight chuckle shook his torso, a small smile gracing my lips. “Make sure you load the motorcycle on, the one with the sidecar for Barnes.”

I pulled back from him, our tear-streaked faces analyzing the other’s. His lips went to a thin line as he tried to hold back more tears. He nodded and closed his eyes, his arms crossing his chest again. 

I swallowed hard and made my way out of the storage room, understanding that was my brother’s way of officially letting me go. 

—-

The wind whipped around my helmet and goggles as I wove through the winding Austrian roads. It had been some time since I had ridden a motorcycle with the sidecar attached, but it felt natural again after about ten minutes into my two-and-a-half-hour ride. 
 
The snowcapped mountains lined the road, and the knots in my stomach tightened with each minute that passed. It had been lightly flurrying since I had landed in Innsbruck, and even still, every snowflake immediately dissolved on my skin as the heat of anxiety burned in my body. 
 
Bucky has been alone for a day and a half.
 
My surroundings were starting to become familiar; a few signs with the exact missing letters or bent corners came and went from my view. The peaks of the mountains hid in the clouds, but I could tell I was getting close.
 
A million different scenarios played over in my head. My brain couldn’t quiet itself. What if he’s dead, or completely mangled and unrecognizable? What if he’s alive, but death would be easier? What if wolves got to him overnight, and his body wasn’t there, just a pool of blood staining the snow? ‘For Christ’s sake,’ I thought, shaking my head to banish the thoughts as tears threatened to sting.
 
My eyes darted upwards as I saw the curvature of the mountain cut for train tracks. Glancing to the left, I saw the opposite side of the tunnel, knowing exactly what direction I needed to head in. My heart felt like it was in my stomach as I glanced behind me to make sure there were no unwanted visitors. I hadn’t seen more than three trucks during the ride, but one can never be too safe.
 
As I turned into the woods, my tires bobbled as they came in contact with snow muddied with gravel and dirt, a stark difference from the wet asphalt. There was barely a clear entrance into the area, only the slight parting of trees that looked just wide enough to fit a vehicle. I took the turn, heading further into the forest, and the towering pines soon closed in around me, their branches heavy with snow. 
 
I heard the trickling water before I saw the Danube River, slowly rolling out into the clear area of the river bank. My engine puttered as I followed the edge, looking for any sign of him. This section of the train tracks still looked covered, but who knows? What if his body floated down the river? My eyes darted at every movement in the opaque waters, going back and forth between that and the path in front of me.
 
The snow was white and crisp now, barely touched by anything living. There were paw prints here and there and a few sled tracks in the snow. The further I rode down, the more aggressive the rushing waters became. It was almost like the river was trying to tell me something. My heart beat out of my chest as my palms became clammy. 
 
There was a slight gap in the treetops, and as I looked through, I saw the other opening of the tunnel. The air exited my lungs like it was its last opportunity to do so, and I slowed the bike to a halt before cutting the engine and settling it on the kickstand. I had a knapsack in my sidecar filled with medical supplies and the transponder, along with a separate bag carrying a flare, extra ammunition, and whatever else Howard had on hand that could be helpful. 
 
I placed the helmet into the sidecar before grabbing the knapsack and covering the other bag. I exhaled, my hot, nervous breath creating a cloud before me. My hands had a slight shake to them, however, the crisp crunch of the snow beneath my boots soothed me slightly as I began to head down the riverbank. 

The wind only stirred the tops of the trees, light flurries falling even though the snow had stopped an hour ago. The chill here felt different, like it slithered inside your bones, begging you to succumb. I flipped up the sherpa lapels of Howard’s aviator jacket, grateful for the extra lining and warmth of leather. My gloved hands dug into my jacket pockets, balled into fists to keep warm. 

“Where are ya, sweetheart…” I whispered, desperately scanning the snow for any sign of him. 

After walking for about ten minutes, something caught my eye in the water. I darted over to the riverbank and saw a swatch of blue fabric that was stuck to a rock. Ripping off one of my gloves, I yanked the fabric free from the rock and rubbed it between my fingers. 

‘This has to be from his jacket,’ I thought. I stood and turned to my left, my eyes scanning the riverbank. About twenty feet away, my eye catches a color that wouldn’t normally be found in snow. Red. 

My feet carried me in a sprint, as fast as I could in my boots, down the side of the river. As I got within six feet of the bloodstain, I ran even faster when I saw him—just ahead, his form barely visible against the snow.

“BUCKY!” 

My voice rang out as I dashed toward him, the bag dropping with a crunch onto the white forest floor. I collapsed at his side, tears welling in my eyes, and my cheeks hurt from the smile of relief that spread across my face.

My degloved hand met his hair, brushing it back out of his face. His skin matched the snow, cool and pale, except for cuts, bruises, and the pool of red surrounding his left arm. I couldn’t even tell where his jacket ended and the wound began, but he was missing a little more than below his elbow. Before I could do anything, I needed to check and see if he was alive.

I shuddered as his skin was frozen to the touch, but as my warm hand met the skin of his neck, a faint groan came from him as I felt his slow pulse. His eyelashes fluttered and for the shortest moment, we held eye contact. 

“Oh, oh my god, Buck,” I choked out of pure surprise and relief. “Sweetheart, I’m here. I came back for you.” 

He groaned again, and the corners of his mouth curved. It was one of those slights movements that if I didn’t know him, I would’ve missed it. I leaned in and kissed his forehead as I held his cheek, pulling back from him. Behind me I heard a crunch, my head snapping back. In the distance, a lone doe moved between the trees. My heart slowed at the realization, grateful.

I sniffled as I turned back and glanced over his body, having not a single clue what bones could be broken. I looked toward where I parked the bike, knowing I couldn’t carry him there, and knowing that he couldn’t even be put in the sidecar. My eyes then caught the knapsack sitting in the snow a few yards away. ‘The transponder,’ I thought. If I alert Howard that I found him, the Army can send a truck here to get us. 

My hand found his cheek again, his light stubble meeting my fingers. My heart swelled at the sight of him, alive. A stray tear slid down my cheek, nothing but relief being behind it. Sitting here with him, I realized that all of my daydreams of a future, all our little conversations about kids, wedding flowers, and what neighborhood we’d live in, could still be a reality.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” I whispered as my thumb brushed his cheek. His eyes opened at my statement; love and gratitude swimming around in his blue irises,

“Now let’s get you home, okay?” I whispered. “You’ll see Steve, come home to New York with me, and you’ll get all better. I’m going to get my bag. I’ll be right back.”

As I stood, I took five steps before something sharp pricked my neck. My hand shot up instinctively, fingers brushing something metal with a fuzzball at its end. My vision blurred, and before I could hit the ground, everything went black.

Chapter Text

My ears rang as I inhaled, picking up on the few voices and beeping machines. I heard the zing of fluorescent light bulbs above me and the sound of metal against metal. My body ached, and a sharp chill lingered in the sterile air. ‘We’re not in the forest anymore.’

"нет, я понятия не имею, как долго они были без сознания" 'No, I have no clue how long they've been unconscious.'

"Доктор теряет терпение." 'The doctor is getting impatient.'

"Да, скажи мне что-нибудь, чего я не знаю." 'Yeah, tell me something I don't know.'

Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I opened my eyes to take in my new surroundings. My eyes instantly met the spotlight above me, causing me to groan in shock. The metal sounds ceased as footsteps were heard hitting the floor, a shadow casting over me.

I opened my eyes and saw a middle-aged man with round glasses and thin hair. He wore a checkered button-down and a long light blue coat, nothing like a medic or soldier.

"Where the fuck am I?" I asked, my voice raspy from lack of use.

"Сергей, хватай его! в настоящее время!" 'Sergei, get him! Now!'

The volume rattled my eardrums, only causing me to groan again. I tried to move my arms but couldn't feel them, and I looked down to see every one of my limbs strapped down in two places. My mind flashed back to when Steve and I found Bucky in Austria, and goosebumps prickled across my skin.

Where. The hell. Is Bucky.

I felt the panic set in as I woke up more, glancing around in every direction to figure out where I was. There weren't any windows and the walls that didn't have machinery were covered in what looked like bathroom tiles. The ceiling was nothing but fluorescent lights except for medical contraptions hanging throughout the room. 

If I was being naive, this was a medical bay. If I was being realistic, this was a laboratory.

The door slammed shut with a metallic thud, and the soft tap of loafers echoed across the room. With a snap and a click, the overly bright light above me shut off, and the face I least expected was looking down at me.

"My dear, so kind of you to finally wake up," Dr. Zola said with a small smile. He looked down at my hand and tapped the IV before looking back up at me again.

"Where the hell am I, Zola? Where's Barnes?" I spat. He raised his eyebrows and walked over to a small table, picking up a pen and rolling it between his fingers.

"You are lucky, Fräulein, I wasn't sure if you were going to be with us. You've been unconscious for quite some time," he said moving strands of hair from my face as I turned my cheek to brush off his touch,

"You came to retrieve Sergeant Barnes’ body, Miss Stark, but we saved his life." He paused before turning to the soldiers in the back of the room, whose fur Ushankas I could spot from a mile away. "My friends found you two in the forest and brought you back here. Thankfully the bear tranquilizer did not kill you; we were not expecting any human visitors.”

"Where is he?" I demanded, not even bothering to acknowledge why any soldier of the Allied forces would bring Bucky and me to the enemy.

He chuckled and took a deep breath, "Now, my dear, I know-"

"Where is Barnes, Zola?! WHERE IS HE?!" I yelled, the table shaking from my force.

He glanced to the side at one of the scientists, who, at his nod, clicked something underneath the table that angled me up to see the rest of the room. I was almost straight up, but was strapped down so tight I wasn't able to slide. As my eyes regained focus from the blood rush of not being flat on my back anymore, right in front of me was the answer to my question: Bucky.

He was lying down on another table, his face littered with almost healed cuts and bruises. Glancing over, it clicked in my head what the metal-on-metal noise was before. His left arm was completely gone and replaced, the bright pink tissue up by his shoulder and collarbone looking fresh and irritated as it met a metal prosthesis.

All of the air left my chest and my face dropped, not being able to register what I was seeing.

"What did you do, Arnim…" I said lowly. He looked at me with a smirk and shrugged, filling me with nothing but anger and rage, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!"

My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath since yelling and the tight constraints across my torso did not mix well. Zola waved his hand and everyone in the room left, leaving just me, him, and an unconscious Bucky alone.

"I did what had to be done, for progress.”

"You fucking psychopath!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "I took your notes in Austria, off your lab floor. I know what you did to him—and to everyone else you fucking KILLED! How is any of that okay?!"

He raised an eyebrow and calmly pulled a notepad from his pocket, jotting something down as if I wasn’t screaming at him. His lack of reaction only fueled my rage. "How inhumane are you?! You tried to WIPE HIS MIND! Brainwashing?! Are you KIDDING me?! And I read all the notes on the serum too, you dumbfu-"

"I gave James my serum," he said in an even tone. My words ceased as my jaw hung open in complete disbelief.

"You...what?"

"I gave him my version of the serum. As you can see, its results were not obvious compared to Dr. Erskine's. No melting faces, no fancy muscles," I was at a loss for words as he continued. "You of all people should understand, Miss Stark, that science is ever-changing. We constantly make changes to propel forward instead of remaining stagnant. My changes propelled us further than I could've ever imagined,"

He paused and took a deep breath, "with my formula, I am going to build Hydra to be stronger than it has ever been. Sergeant Barnes had lost his arm in the fall, but along with my colleagues, I was able to make him an indestructible cybernetic limb...He is to be my new 'fist' of Hydra, alongside you, my dear. I know you are a highly intelligent woman, but we need a skilled and trained pair of individuals for our forces. Your teamwork and fighting style with James is impeccable, I have seen it myself, both firsthand and on film. Add in your combined intelligence, and we will have an unstoppable team."

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "And what makes you think we’ll help you?" I sneered, meeting his gaze. "Hydra is nothing but Schmidt’s failed science club that Hitler lost control of. You’ll never be anything more than a fucking jo—"

His slap hit with such force that my head snapped to the side, my vision briefly swimming. For a small man, he hit like a fucking train. I tasted blood, the sting of his hand still burning across my cheek.

"Shut your mouth this instant! I will not be hearing any more of that from the likes of you," he yelled sternly.

"Eat shit, Zola."

His eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted, almost as if his little teapot self was boiling over. He smacked his hand against a button on the wall, locking eyes with me. "Since your attitude cut our conversation short, Miss Stark, I will cut to the chase—you're helping us whether you choose to or not."

The two scientists that were previously in the room walked back in, this time carrying a small silver box. One set it on the table next to me, and I heard the smack of latex as Zola walked back over with his hands encapsulated in gloves.

"What the hell do you mean..." I trailed off. Both scientists put gloves on as well, and one grabbed my jaw while the other tightened the restraints that held me down. "Arnim, what the hell is going on?"

Zola flicked open the silver box and picked up a needle, the substance inside glowing the same cerulean blue that I saw in every single Hydra weapon. My eyes grew as I put two and two together. ‘He's giving me his version of the serum.’

"You’re a woman of science, Miss Stark," Zola continued, his voice steady as he prepared the needle. "This shouldn’t be surprising. Captain Rogers was exposed to vita-rays with his serum—no, no radiation for Herr Schmidt. That may explain his...unfortunate condition. As for Sergeant Barnes, well, he was exposed to the Tesseract itself after I injected him. A truly fascinating outcome." He paused, rubbing alcohol on my temple, his fingers cold and clinical,

"So you, my dear, are having the next variation of radiation exposure. This vial of serum has been in the same capsule as the Tesseract, directly up against the cube. I am curious and quite excited to see what the end product will be."

My eyes darted around the room and focused on Bucky, his chest rising and falling as he lay on the table unconscious. More scientists, Russian soldiers, and Hydra officials entered the room, some walking over to Buck and others standing behind Zola. One of them brought a camera into the room, positioning it right at me and loading a new film wheel into its side. 'These sick bastards.’

"Этот проект будет безумным" 'This project is going to be insane.'

"Я знаю. Мы смотрим на первых двух Зимних солдат." 'I know. We are looking at the first two Winter Soldiers.'

"Не могу дождаться, когда они станут чистыми листами. Мы можем заставить их делать все, что захотим." 'I can't wait for them to be blank slates. We can make them do whatever we want.'

"Согласованный." 'Agreed.'

"Как вы думаете, сколько времени пройдет, пока мы не сможем использовать Подавитель Памяти?" 'How long do you think it will be until we can use the Memory Suppressor?'

"Хороший вопрос. У меня такое чувство, что эти двое устроят драку, но эй, именно поэтому мы оставили их в живых." 'Good question. I have a feeling these two will put up a fight, but hey, that's why we kept them alive.'

My eyes were bulging out of my skull as the two men spoke, and I felt all of the colors drain from my face. At the speed my heart was beating, it felt like it was about to break right through my chest. My whole body was littered with goosebumps, my skin breaking out into a cold sweat. 

'The Memory Suppressor? Like what they used on Bucky in Austria? They can't, that's—that's not...'

I looked between the two of them, and as I glanced at the scientist standing next to them who didn't speak, his eyes were already locked in on me.

"Ты понимаешь?" 'You understand?'

I swallowed hard and clenched my jaw, my eyes darkening as I stared right back at him, "да." 'Yes.'

The man grimaced at my answer and looked at Zola, whose face then snapped to me. He exhaled through his nose and stood up straight, and the man holding my chin squeezed just a bit tighter.

"Here we go, my dear. Enjoy," Zola mocked.

My breathing became fast and shallow as I heard him remove the cap from the needle. Each man in the room was holding their notepad so tightly their knuckles were white, their pens already on the paper ready to record anything and everything that was about to happen. The camera guy hit the button, sending the film reel spinning as Zola held the silver needle up in the air.

"Gentlemen! This here is the first recipient of my serum exposed to direct Tesseract radiation, Subject 0-1-8. Depending on her success and in comparison to Subject 0-1-7, the only surviving recipient so far, we will be able to determine which exposure method will be most effective for our future! Hail Hydra!"

"Hail Hydra!" they all yelled in response.

I let out a quivering breath as I felt the sharp end make contact with the skin that lined my temple. I felt everyone's eyes on me while I forced mine shut, and Zola slowly pierced the needle through my skin.

Fire. Pure fire. 

It felt like every nerve in my body was being ignited from the inside out. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I let out a blood-curdling scream, the serum slithering through my veins like a flame dancing down a stream of gasoline. I squeezed my eyes shut and I felt my body dripping sweat almost instantly. I couldn't control the yelps and screams that were erupting from my throat, it was like my muscle tissue was being seared to my bones.

My ears rang, and I couldn't even take in my surroundings. I had no clue how long I struggled against the restraints, writhing like a snake under the rough straps. As the serum made its way to the lower half of my body, another scream echoed throughout the room. My eyes shot open at the pain, and the ringing in my ears subsided as voices flooded the space.

"вот дерьмо!" 'Oh shit!' 

"Посмотрите на ее глаза!" 'Look at her eyes!' 

"Врач! Глаза такие же голубые, как и источник энергии!" 'Doctor! They are the same blue as the energy source!'

My eyes locked with Zola's, and for a moment, everything went fuzzy, a blur of faces and sounds—until it snapped into focus. His jaw dropped as I tried to make sense of what was happening. My gaze shifted to Bucky, and I could see the tiny beads of sweat dotting his forehead—each one clear as day, every single movement around him like it was happening in slow motion.

As I focused and used more energy with my heightened senses, the burning sensation sent an aftershock surging through my body. My screams filled the room yet again, louder than I had yelled before. Everyone covered their ears, and suddenly, my body felt still. The goosebumps disappeared, but sweat still glistened on my skin as I stayed strapped to the table. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, and as I slowly blinked to focus my eyes, I caught the reflection from Bucky's arm moving in the light.

"Y/N?" I heard his voice—strained, panicked. My vision was swimming, fading in and out, but our eyes met for a brief, agonizing moment. His face twisted with fury. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" His voice cracked as his metal hand shot out, grabbing the scientist’s throat and lifting him off the ground, sending everyone into panic mode yet again.

"Sedate them! Both of them!" one of the Hydra officials yelled.

"Buck!" I managed to scream, the last of my strength spent. I felt a pinch in my neck, the sedative feeling like nothing compared to the past few minutes. My eyes fluttered shut as I saw him look in my direction while one of the men stabbed his abdomen with a syringe. My head fell and rolled as my world was absorbed by black.

Chapter Text

The cool air danced across my skin, sending chills up my spine. I reached up to push the loose hairs from my braids that had fallen in my face, but my hands were bound together in an iron casing, chained to the ground. The links rattled with even the slightest movement, replacing the rhythmic sound of dripping water that echoed off the concrete walls around me.

My head was throbbing and my eyelids felt heavy as I blinked, making an effort to quickly adjust to the dark surroundings. Within seconds it was like I had night vision, every detail of the cell painted in variations of dark blue. The only light came from the thin gap between the door and the floor and the microscopic holes by its hinges.

The fog in my mind was thick as I tried to remember what had happened before I’d fallen unconscious. 'Sedate them! Both of them!’ rang through my head, the scene cascading through my brain like a grainy film reel.

Bucky. Metal arm. Zola. Serum. Russians. Hydra.

My eyes grew wide as I sat straight up, my voice barreling up my throat like a missile, "BUCKY!"

The Judas window on my door slid open with a harsh metallic screech, flooding the cell with blinding light. I groaned, squinting, and the window slammed shut just as quickly. The heavy bolts on the door clicked, and it swung open with a violent creak. Two Russian soldiers stepped inside, each grabbing me by the armpits. They hauled me upright, my feet barely touching the ground as their towering frames dwarfed mine.

I twisted in their grip, testing my restraints, but froze when a third soldier appeared. He stood at the door, his gray eyes colder than ice, watching me like a hawk.

“Try anything, and you’re dead,” he growled in a thick accent. His words were slow, deliberate. I met his gaze, my jaw clenched.

"Relax, fellas," I muttered, trying my best to sound calm. “I know when to pick and choose my battles.”

They gripped me tighter, lifting me off the floor as a fourth soldier tossed a rough sack over my head. The smell of old burlap filled my nostrils, stifling any chance of breath. As they dragged me down the hall, my feet brushed the floor, barely making contact.

On our short journey to wherever we were going, there were three sets of double doors opened, and the last needed to be unlocked via passcode. I was able to hear the man's fingers make contact on a keypad, which after six low beeps resulted in an aggressive unlatching sound. Entering this room, the soldier's boots echoed against the floor, and the threads of my socks caught on the specks of raised concrete.

Wearing only my tactical pants and the tank top that had been underneath my layers, my body shivered as the men threw me into a cold metal chair. Latches came down on my limbs almost instantly, and as their hands checked to make sure each one was secured, someone from behind grabbed the sack that was on my head.

As the burlap was ripped off me, my eyes began scanning the room, taking in my surroundings. I was slightly lower than floor level, the indent in the floor was bordered with metal railings. Above me were two huge overhead lights connected to two arm-like contraptions, each with their own small rectangular panels. Every hair on my body pricked up at the realization of what I was sitting in, seeing the similarities from the much smaller version in Austria.

"Knowing that you understand Russian pisses me off," a voice sneered from behind me, thick with an accent. "Although, it does make my job easier down the road."

Heavy boots echoed from behind me until the man came into view. Everything about him screamed authority: high-ranking officer, pristine uniform. A folder was tucked under his arm, and his name—Dobrow—was stitched in neat Cyrillic letters on his chest. His rough hands flipped a folder open, a photograph of me from an SSR dossier clipped to the front. 

"Now, Milaya," he said, not even glancing up. "We have a few things to discuss."

"Don't call me darling," I spat. I looked up at him and glared into his eyes, and he only stared back with an expressionless face. He pulled a pistol from his belt holster and fired it, the bullet breezing right past my head. I heard it connect with the concrete behind me as the loose hairs around my cheek moved from the speed, and Dobrow's face didn't move a muscle.

"I ask you questions. You answer. Understand?"

I sat there frozen, still stunned by his indifference about killing me immediately. I stared up at him, and he only raised his eyebrows.

"What is your name?" he asked, glancing down at the folder and then back up at me. He let out a huff and bent down to my eye level, moving my face directly in front of his with the end of the gun, the barrel burning my skin from the heat of the bullet it just fired.

"You are only making this harder for yourself. I'm giving you this chance, Milaya. What is your name?"

"You know my name," I mumbled, his eyebrows raising as a warning. "Y/N Stark."

"Where were you born? What year?"

"New York. 1919."

"What is your Army identification number?"

"1-2-8-6-0-9-3-3."

"What is your brother's name?"

I felt my whole body stiffen at the mention of Howard. I didn't want to put him in danger, not like this. The questions they're asking are no secret, but part of me just couldn't bring myself to say his name. They already had me in here, I couldn't let Howard face the same fate.

Dobrow repeated his question, but my eyes were zoned out into the distance. He let out another huff before his large hand whipped my face to the side. "We already know. Silence will do you no good."

Absorbing the sting of his hand, I swallowed and looked up at him, "Howard," I said just above a whisper.

"Good. Prep her, get the machine ready," he ordered as he closed the file with one hand, the few men standing around in the light blue lab coats looking in my direction. They came over and put monitor stickers for my vitals all over, and as they stuck the last one to the center of my chest, the contraption above me powered up.

I could hear the electricity pulsing through it, the chair I was strapped down to heating up with the amount of energy being used. The arms slowly came down and the panels formed around my head, every ounce of panic and anxiety rising to the surface at once.

The panels moved and forced my head to move with them, making my line of vision towards the ceiling. One piece of the machinery covered my left eye and cheek, and the other was wrapped around the right side of my head. Every hair on my body rose as my left eye saw the bulbs come to life, and the currents began to rip through me.

The electricity riveted through my skull, almost as if it was ripping apart each neuron one at a time. The machine had little electric rhythms and lulls of energy, but it only made the surges hurt that much more. It was almost as if I could feel my frontal lobe smacking against my forehead, the pain being so aggressive that my eyes forced themselves open like the memory suppressor was going to suck them deep into my skull.

I couldn't hear my own screams over the shocks of power surging through the panels, and I'm pretty sure my left eardrum was shot out when the thing came to life. I felt liquid dripping out of my ear canal, but I didn't even care as everything around me became fuzzy.

The arms powered down and lifted off of my face, and my head rolled down as I took in every particle of air I could. My whole skull was throbbing; I couldn't even form a thought. Dobrow walked over and stood in front of me, tilting my chin up with his finger before cupping my face with his hand.

As his thumb grazed over my cheekbone, I took a sharp breath at the painful contact, the bone bruised from the machine.

"I have more questions for you, Milaya," he said, dropping his hand. "Where did you go to university?"

"Princeton and Columbia," I rasped, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"Captain America. What is his real name?"

"Steve."

He didn’t even blink. "Who is James Barnes?"

At the mention of Bucky's name, my chest tightened. My heart skipped—then pounded with something that wasn’t just fear. I met Dobrow’s eyes, my pulse quickening with the weight of his question. He smiled, a sharp, calculating thing that didn’t reach his eyes.

"I figured that reaction would be forthcoming," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Dr. Zola did inform us that he is a...soft spot of yours."

I didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. My eyes locked with his, even as the blood pounded in my temples.

"Who is he?" Dobrow pressed again, his tone colder now.

"Bucky," I answered, mustering the energy to raise my head and return the cold stare. His furrowed eyebrows looked down at me and I saw his finger graze over the paper.

"What is a 'Bucky?'" he asked quizzically yet coldly. I stayed silent, unmoving, watching the frustration build in his eyes. Dobrow grabbed my chin, squeezing hard, asserting his dominance. "Barnes is Captain America's best friend. Yes, or no?"

I smirked at him, a small, bitter gesture. I knew it would make things worse, but I couldn’t help myself. "I'm his best friend—one of them at least. He told me so."

He let go of my face with such force, I would have been whipped to the floor if I wasn't strapped to the suppressor chair.

"Again!" he shouted in Russian, his voice raw with anger. The scientists blinked in surprise before scrambling to press buttons, the machine powering up again. My chest tightened, each breath coming in shallow gasps as the panels closed in around my head once more. The agony of the electricity shot through me in waves, searing into my brain with a familiar, vicious intensity.

As the arms of the contraption rose from my head for the second time, everything looked like a blur. My chest heaved, like my lungs were crawling up my esophagus to get fresh air, and my body shimmered in the artificial light.

"What's your relationship with the deceased doctor? Erskine?" Dobrow spat, his voice laced with impatience. All I could do was open my mouth, my jaw hanging slack, unable to form a word. "You made a version of Super Solider serum with him, yes?"

I opened my mouth, but only a ragged cough came out. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, and I could practically hear the irritation building in his tone as he shifted his weight. I could almost picture the disgust on his face.

"Fine, make it worse for yourself..." he muttered, stepping back. "Margaret Carter. SSR agent or undercover spy for the British military?" he asked, yanking my chin to make me look at him. I was still rebounding from the second round of the machine, and I swallowed as short breaths came and went from my lungs.

"Fucking useless," Dobrow mumbled in Russian before turning to one of the scientists. "Enough questions for today. Do it again and bring the other soldier’s notes; I want to compare."

The machine started to power up and come to life as I squeezed my eyes shut, still feeling his presence in front of me. I let out a breath and looked up at him as the arms slowly made their way down.

"Steve will come for us," I choked out, my voice thin as I stared into his eyes. "My brother will come, the SSR…Hell, the whole Army will come—you'll regret this." 

"The only person who will regret anything is you, Milaya," Dobrow said, chuckling as a grin spread across his face, causing me to raise an eyebrow. "You'll regret holding on to your hope." 

The last thing I saw before the panels sealed around my face was his cruel smile. I felt the machine begin to power up again, the buzzing starting low in my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the electricity that was about to run through my brain; and the little seed of doubt that Dobrow had just planted.

I woke up on the cold floor of my cell. I have no idea how many times Officer Dobrow and his scientists had repeated the question and suppressor cycle, but it had to be enough to where I passed out because I have no recollection of getting back here.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and there was a tray left by the door. Being chained to the floor, I scooted over across the cold concrete and assessed the meal of the day. They graduated me from iron hand casings to just cuffs, an improvement.

On the metal square sat one hardboiled egg, an apple cut in half that was already brown and dried, and one slice of bread. 'Looks like it's days old but good enough,' I thought.

My head throbbed as I munched on the stale food, and I raised a hand to touch my face. My fingers barely even grazed my skin before I yelped and pulled away. Chills danced down my spine, and I felt a cold sweat begin to form all over me.

My memory of the past few days, or however long I've been here, was spotty in general. Then, in addition to being scrambled by the machine, it didn't make anything much better. Every time I try to recall something before the train incident, a shocking pain jolts through my forehead. I remember Dobrow asking me questions, but as I try to think of the answers, the same jolting pain feels like it's slicing my brain from the inside.

"AGH!" I yelled, chucking the apple at the wall, the fruit leaving little cracks in the concrete from the strength I forgot I now had. Looking down at my hands, I could see my veins glowing through my skin. I followed the flow of cerulean blue up my arms, any of my exposed skin showcasing it.

I shuddered at the sight of it all, blood giving me the heebie-jeebies anyway, but the fact that mine is now space alien blue freaked me out even more. I was torn out of my thoughts when I heard a loud bang from the hall, and I scooted over to place my ear on the door.

"LET GO OF ME!" a man's voice yelled.

"Успокойся, солдат!" 'Calm down, Soldier!'

"WHERE IS SHE?! WHAT'D YOU DO WITH MY GIRL?!" 

My jaw dropped as Bucky's voice echoed through the hallway, and I lifted my handcuffs and slammed them against the door.

"BUCK! I'M IN HERE!" I screamed. There was so much commotion in the hall, but I heard my favorite voice over all of the others.

"DOLL?! YOU OKAY?!" he yelled back.

"Где успокоительное, Ivan?!" 'Where is the sedative, Ivan?!’

"Я не знаю, сэр!" 'I don't know, sir!'

"KINDA!" I yelled, banging on the door again with the iron cuffs.

"I'M COMIN' FOR YOU, I’M HERE," Bucky yelled before there was more shuffling and Russian cursing. "Get your fuckin’ hands off me," he grunted from in front of my door.

There was a loud slam against the metal like someone's body was just thrown up against it, and then a loud thud on the floor.

"BUCK?!" I yelled out, seeing if he was the one slammed or if he did the slamming. I lay flat on the floor, lining my eyes up with the sliver of an opening under the door. My eyes met the familiar bright blues, his cheek pressed against the floor, "Bucky..." I whispered.

"Sweetheart," he choked out as his eyelids shut. I heard something small fall to the floor, knowing it was the empty vial of sedative.

"Отведите его в Dobrow. Это не может повториться...дебилы," 'Take him down to Dobrow. This cannot happen again...imbeciles,'

The officer sounded the least bit pleased, and Bucky was immediately lifted off of the ground in front of my cell. "Ты. Открой ей дверь." 'You. Open up her door.'

As soon as I realized what words left his mouth and heard the jingle of keys, I moved away from the door as quickly as possible. The metal was unlatched and swung open, and in front of me was a red-faced soldier with nothing but pure anger in his eyes.

"You," he seethed, "why did you instigate him?" he asked, his voice scarily calm.

"It's not my fault your men are incompetent," I answered evenly, attempting to hide my fear. I could have sworn I saw red flash over his eyes at the speed of light as he walked over and kicked me in the head. Everything spun as he took a fist full of my hair and held my face up to his.

"Don't you fucking talk back to me, сука," he seethed, his face so close to mine that I felt his spit on my skin, "you're going to regret that."

He let go of my hair and tossed me down on the ground. I lay on my belly as the door slammed shut, darkness claiming the cell. I let out the breath I was holding and somehow got myself to sit up, my body leaning on the wall for full support. Before I could even realize it, I felt the hot tears roll down my cheeks, my lip quivering.

I pulled my knees into my chest, and let out a sob as quietly as I could. Seeing Bucky flicked on a light of mixed emotions in my head. I'm more than relieved that he's alive, but now so worried about how they're going to punish him. He broke free trying to look for me, trying to get to me. Now he's going to get whatever punishment they see fit.

Seeing him helped my recollection, and my head hurt less as I thought about the past year’s missions. A small smile crept up my face as I thought about the night before we fell from the train, and the butterflies erupting. I remembered all of our little flirtatious moments before we left London, and when he first kissed me in the woods; even the little bullshit moments with him, Steve, and the guys. 

"Look where we are now..." I mumbled to myself, resting my head against the wall and letting my eyes flutter shut.

I woke up to the unlatching of my cell, two guards coming in and the gray-eyed soldier following behind. Even with the serum, my eyes have never adjusted quickly enough to be able to read the name stitched into his uniform before he throws the burlap over my head and uncuffs me from the floor. The soldiers didn't even bother trying to let me walk after Bucky's rescue attempt, the two men raising me completely off the ground with my legs dangling in the air.

After the familiar sound of keypad beeps and echoing boots, my body met the cold chair, its locks encasing my arms and legs. Standing at the separation of the railings was Dobrow staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed. He slowly took steps towards me, his arms behind his back and posture nearly perfect.

"Milaya, your face is bruised," he said leaning down, "why?"

I slowly looked up at him, giving him a cold stare. "If you're asking about the left side, you already know the answer; and if you're asking about the right side, well, you already know the answer."

"See, Milaya, it's that attitude of yours that gets people killed if not yourself eventually," he said, sucking his teeth and looking down at me, his expression soft as if it didn't belong on his face. I felt my brows furrow slightly as he turned around to the men behind him. "Roll the tape!"

A blank roll of film ran on the projector screen that hung diagonally from the chair I was strapped down to, and my head snapped up at the sound of it clicking on. It took a few seconds for the film to actually roll, but as soon as the picture was clear, my head swiveled and my eyes squeezed shut.

He leaned closer, his breath cold on my ear. “Watch.” I fought to wrench my head away, but his grip on my hair held firm, and my stomach turned in revolt. This was my fault—all of it.

“Fuck you,” I mumbled, his response only a huff through his nostrils.

The room I was currently in was on the screen, and it only took a few seconds to see the Russian soldiers dragging Bucky's limp body to come into the frame, my heart panging at the sight. The men grunted as they threw him in the chair like a ragdoll, propping him up to secure him. They injected something into his neck, and not even fifteen seconds later, he gasped for air as if it was his first breath.

He struggled under the restraints. I could see the veins popping from his neck as he rustled and grunted, his hair falling on his forehead and sticking from the sweat. My stomach twisted as he writhed in the chair, and I felt an anxious sweat prick my skin.

"Sergeant Barnes!" a voice yelled, "what a stunt that was!" A tall man came into view, not very built but one could still tell he was lean underneath his uniform by the way he carried himself.

"You have her locked in a cell! Like a goddamn animal!" he yelled.

"And you care why?" the officer retorted calmly. "What we do with her should not concern you, Sergeant—"

"THE HELL IT SHOULD!" he barked. The officer backhanded him across the face and stood there patiently as Bucky regained the little composure he had.

"Power it up," he ordered, the scientists in the background turning the machine on. I tried to turn away but Dobrow's fingers were still stitched through my hair.

"No, no—no looking away," he teased, "it's not even my favorite part yet."

I tasted the bile that rose in my throat as Bucky's screams filled the room, each one echoing off the walls. The shocks and electricity overtook the camera, but his raw pain was clearer than ever. My whole body ran cold, almost as if someone took pins out of a freezer and tried to pierce through my skin from the inside.

It went on for about ten minutes, and as the machine powered down, Dobrow's grip on my head got tighter. I heard his low chuckle from behind me, the reason for it unknown.

"Now, James, are you ready to cooperate?" the officer asked, bending down to Bucky's hanging head. "Are you ready to be the good soldier boy you are?"

"Go to Hell," he forced out, barely loud enough to be heard on the tape. The man took a sharp breath before standing straight up.

"You know, James...for some reason, I can handle your attitude," the officer started, "but what I can't stand, is hers." Bucky's head snapped up at the small reference to me as the officer continued. "Do you know what she said my men were? The ones you got away from? She called them incompetent,"

"Now I'm recording this, James. The camera," he said pointing directly into it, "is right there, wave hello...You see, Miss Stark is quite valuable collateral, so I could not inflict the punishment I wanted to by the orders of Dr. Zola. This recording, however, will suffice," he paused, reaching to his belt.

My jaw went slack as I watched the screen, "No no no no no..." I whispered.

"So, James, maybe this recording will make her learn her lesson about why you should not talk back to your superiors," the officer held up his arm, "and as you silly American soldiers say, it is now the end of your watch, Sergeant Barnes. Hail Hydra."

As the sound of the bullet releasing rang through the room, my eyes squeezed shut. The film reel clicked and rolled blanks, and my eyes were so tightly sealed that I saw dots. My chest was locked, and my whole body was stiff and numb. I didn't even realize Dobrow released my hair from his grip.

I let all of my oxygen out in a quivering breath, staring at the ground and not being able to focus my eyes. 'He's dead, he's dead because of me...because I couldn't keep my smart-ass mouth shut.'

I didn't even realize the panels closed around my skull as my head tilted back. My ears rang like I was in another world, the machine's growing power sounding secondary. With the currents surging, my screams were filled with pure pain as my brain was ripped to shreds while my consciousness dwelled on the causation of Bucky’s death. It's all because of me.

As I screamed, the cerulean blue glowed through my skin, overtaking my vision with its own lens. All I heard were the combined shouts of the scientists and officers ringing through the room, everything and everyone overtaken with panic. As the machine became overloaded with energy, metal panels flew everywhere, the joined power combusting the contraption around me.

Chapter Text

I sat on my knees in the middle of the room, my chest heaving as the chaos around me slowly began to settle. The acrid scent of burning metal clung to the air, thick with the smoke swirling around the wreckage. Sparks crackled from the mangled machine, and the alarm’s shrill wail reverberated through my skull.

Pieces of shattered metal surrounded me like the aftermath of an explosion. My skin tingled as the cerulean blue faded back into my body, leaving no trace of the protective shield I hadn’t even realized I’d formed. I hadn’t been hurt—not physically, at least. But I could barely process what had just happened. Everything felt out of focus like my mind had short-circuited.

Boots pounded down the hallway, a stampede of heavy steps that set my nerves on edge. A voice, thick and Russian, barked through the chaos.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

The room was a mess—a broken machine and control panel, smoke, and disarray—and the scientists who were still here couldn't seem to tear their eyes away from me. The officer who’d spoken stepped into the room, his gaze scanning the wreckage before landing on my eyes that were already set on him. I could feel the weight of his stare like a physical force.

Without a word, he started walking toward me, his boots making the floor beneath me tremble with each step. My throat felt tight, my pulse thumping painfully in my ears.

"What did you do?" His voice was a low growl, venomous and direct. The harshness of it sliced through my already frazzled thoughts, and I didn’t even know how to answer. What had I done? My mind was still struggling to catch up with my body.

The officer didn’t wait for me to respond. His hand shot out, grabbing my head with a brutal force that jolted me upright. His fingers dug into my scalp as he yanked my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" he spat in Russian, each word like a slap across my face.

"I don’t know," I managed to rasp, my voice barely more than a dry whisper. The words felt strange on my tongue like I was speaking from a place far away.

Without another word, he released my head with a violent shove, flinging me down like a ragdoll. My body hit the cold floor with a sickening thud. I blinked up at him through the haze of smoke and confusion.

The officer ripped his hat from his head and threw it to the floor with an angry grunt. The sound of it hitting the ground was drowned out by the furious yell that followed—loud and full of raw, undirected rage.

"WHY DOESN’T ANYONE HAVE ANSWERS?!" His voice cracked with frustration. Every word he shouted seemed to echo through the room, vibrating off the concrete walls and amplifying the pressure already building inside me.

I flinched. His eyes were wild, unhinged, and I knew—I knew—I was the focus of his anger. I barely registered the first blow before the next one came—sharp, jarring. My head whipped to the side, and my vision blurred as pain radiated through my skull. My body buckled with the force of it, and I gasped for air, but each movement sent another wave of agony through me.

The officer didn’t stop. His heavy boots slammed down again and again, relentless and punishing. I tried to shield myself, but my limbs felt like they weren’t mine anymore, slow and unresponsive. I struggled to stay conscious, but everything—everything—was slipping away. The room, the officer’s voice, the pain… it all blurred together, then vanished entirely.

I regained consciousness, groaning as the light burned my eyes. My shoulders ached, my arms chained above my head, and my feet dangled uncomfortably. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was in a well-lit, monitored room. Hydra still had no idea how I made the memory suppressor explode—and news to them, I don't know how I did it either.

Every inch of my skin was marked with gashes, bruises, and welts. Nothing felt broken—except maybe a rib or two—but I could feel my body trying to heal itself. The serum coursed through my veins, burning slightly as it worked to repair its host. The sensation made me nauseous, so I tried to focus on my surroundings instead.

One young guard sat in the room with me, flipping through a magazine. His cigarette rested in an ashtray, and light smoke rose lazily in the air, the smell lingering in my nostrils.

The low hum of his radio echoed in the background, not music, but Hydra’s network. The words were in German, and at certain points, I heard the familiar code words Gabe and Morita had taught me. I didn’t make my presence known—I simply hung my head and listened.

Static crackled, and the soldier fiddled with the radio dial, muttering under his breath. The cigarette dangled from his lips as his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

I glanced up just in time to hear a voice through the static.

"-an Deck! Captain America steuert auf das Flugzeug zu! Ich wiederhole, Captain America ist auf dem Weg zum Flugzeug!" '-on deck! Captain America is headed for the plane! I repeat, Captain America is headed for the plane!'

The chains rattled as my head snapped up. The soldier froze. His eyes went from wide surprise to narrow anger as we made eye contact. He took the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it in the ashtray, never breaking his stare. I didn’t look away, keeping my eyes on the radio, trying to stay calm.

"Die Amerikaner haben Herrn Schmidts Auto, sie fahren auf die Klippe zu!" 'The Americans have Herr Schmidt's car! They're driving towards the cliff!'

The words hit me like a blow to the chest, but I kept my breath steady.

"Kontrollraum, wie ist Ihr Status?" 'Control room, what's your status?' a man's voice echoed through the radio, only to be met with silence, "Kontrollraum?"

There was no response. Then—

"Sorry fellas, no more air traffic control for you," Morita said back, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I let out a heavy breath of relief as a smile spread across my face.

"Soldaten! Zurückfallen! Ich sitze im Flugzeug, unsere Koordinaten sind da. New York ist unser erster Abflug. Heil Hydra!" 'Soldiers! Fall back! I am on the plane, our coordinates are in. New York is our first drop. Hail Hydra!' Schmidt’s voice rang out through the radio. The soldier sitting across from me murmured, “Heil Hydra,” under his breath.

The radio was silent for about twenty minutes. The soldier hadn't moved from his chair, rereading his magazine from before in between picking his nails or pulling loose threads from his uniform.

Then, static. And my heart skipped.​​

“Come in, this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

Both of our heads snapped up.

“Captain Rogers, what is your—”

“Steve, is that you? Are you alright?” Peggy cut Morita off, and I could hear the urgency in her voice.

“Peggy! Schmidt's dead!” Steve practically yelled, his voice thick with adrenaline.

The soldier squeezed his eyes shut, and I could feel his discomfort growing with every word.

“What about the plane?”

“That's a little bit tougher to explain,” Steve answered, and I could hear him flicking switches in the background. My stomach tightened, recognizing that tone. It was never good news. 

“Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site,” Peggy responded, her voice softer, almost pleading.

“There’s not gonna be a safe landing, but I can try and force it down.”

“I-I can get Howard on the line, he’ll know what to do,” Peggy stuttered.

“There's not enough time,” Steve said quickly. “This thing’s movin’ too fast and it’s heading for New York.”

The tone of his voice made my skin crawl, my stomach twisting into knots. My eyes locked on the red box on the table.

“I gotta put her in the water.”

Time froze. Oxygen drained from my body, leaving only shaky breaths.

“Please. Don’t do this. We have time, we—we can work it out,” Peggy pleaded. I could hear the break in her voice, the tears pushing against her words.

“Right now I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die,” Steve spat. A long silence followed before he spoke again, his voice quieter, resolute. “Peggy, this is my choice.”

I felt the soldier’s eyes on me as I hung from the wall, my face frozen, tears rolling down. I zoned out, focused entirely on the radio box.

“Peggy?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance,” Steve said, and I almost choked on a sob.

The memories hit hard—the backseat of the military Buick, half-awake and listening to pre-serum Steve stutter through his first real conversation with Peggy.

“Alright,” Peggy choked out. “A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

“You got it.”

“8 o’clock on the dot—don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance,” Steve said, attempting a laugh.

“I’ll show you how,” Peggy breathed, with the smallest chuckle.

“We’ll have the band play something slow,” Steve said softly. “I’d hate to step on your—”

Static. My sobs mixed with the noise. The soldier clicked off the radio and leaned back in his chair. I thought I’d cried all I had left when Bucky was executed. But hearing Steve’s last moments…I lost it.

“Not you too…” I whispered. Then, the anger took over. “NOT YOU TOO!”

Hanging against the wall, my body trembling with exhaustion and grief, I was jolted by the sound of snickering from the man in front of me. I looked up, my eyes meeting his, and found him sitting there with a crooked smile, struggling to hold back laughter.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I spat, fury rising in my chest, but he only bit his lip, his gaze sliding away to the wall.

“In all honesty, Fräulein, I’m glad I got to witness you losing someone you love. I really am,” he said, his voice cold and detached.

I blinked at him, taken aback by both his words and the thick German accent. He lit another cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly before continuing.

“Do you remember the factory near the French border? The one in Germany that you and the Howling Commandos destroyed?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as they met mine. “My father worked there. He was a good man—maybe not the brightest, but a solid soldier. He died when you people ambushed the place. One bullet to the head while he was running for the gates.”

I froze, trying to process what he was saying, the words cutting deeper than I expected.

“In my grief, I researched your team...talked to the surviving soldiers. Every single one of them remembered seeing Sergeant Barnes on the ground with Captain Rogers.” His pause hung heavy, the weight of his next words crushing me. “Which means you, Fräulein, were the backup marksman who killed my father.”

My throat tightened. I swallowed hard, but the words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t respond. I couldn't even remember the moment this man spoke of.

“And I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he spat, his anger bubbling over. He took another drag from his cigarette, his face twisted with barely controlled fury. “My mother died giving birth to my youngest sister three years ago. I had to keep the house together while my father fought. I’m the oldest of six, Stark. You made us orphans.”

His words were like daggers, each one hitting harder than the last. My heart hammered in my chest.

“I had to take my father’s place in the war,” he continued, his voice rising. “Now here I am, chain-smoking in the middle of Siberia at eighteen!" He slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing in the silent room. His eyes were red, his anger palpable. "And you're the reason I’m here.”

The cold, empty silence between us stretched. ‘Well, thanks for confirming I’m in the middle of Russia,’ I thought bitterly, but the words felt hollow.

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, boots scraping against the concrete as he walked toward the door. But before he left, he stopped and turned back. My voice caught in my throat, but I managed to speak, my words barely above a whisper.

“For what it’s worth,” I said, looking up at him with a tired, defeated expression, “I’m sorry.”

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. Slowly, he turned back to face me, his head tilting in disbelief. “You’re not sorry for me, Fräulein. You’re sorry for yourself.”

"You’ve learned about the life of the man you killed," he spat, his voice harsh. "A man who wasn’t just a soldier—he was a husband, a father, a friend." His words sliced through me, and I shut my eyes, wishing I could block them out.

“Enjoy your last moments of peace, Stark. I’m off to tell my superiors that our leader is dead because of your friend. You’ve got a long, hard road ahead of you...and I can’t wait to see you suffer.”

He turned and left, slamming the door behind him. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Bucky was dead. Steve was dead. And everyone else thought I was dead, too. Here I was, chained to a wall in Russia, drowning in guilt.

Numbness began to seep into my mind and body. I stared blankly at the ceiling, the weight of it all crushing me. How did it come to this? From the scrambled mess of my mind to Zola’s serum, to losing the two people I loved most—I never wanted any of this.

The sound of boots growing louder snapped me out of my thoughts. Dobrow’s words echoed in my mind: ‘The only person who will regret anything is you. You’ll regret holding on to your hope.’

The door opened. A group of unfamiliar soldiers filed in. They unlatched me from the wall, letting me crumple to the floor. I didn’t fight it. They hauled me upright, one soldier punching me square in the jaw.

"That’s for Schmidt," he growled in rough English.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t react. I let them drag me out of the room, my body a dead weight in their hands. They didn’t bother covering my head as we walked through the halls. We stopped in a room that was eerily familiar—a similar machine sat in the center of the room, attached to a massive battery cemented into the ground. One scientist stood to the side, expression impassive.

The soldiers shoved me into the chair, strapping me in.

"Igor, просто отпусти машину. Только остановите его, если она начнет биться в конвульсиях. 'Igor, just let the machine go. Only pause it if she starts convulsing,' the head officer said.

As the soldiers left, the machine powered on, and I could feel the difference in the air. It hummed louder, charged with a raw power I hadn’t felt before. The panels slid around my head, and the first shock hit me like a lightning strike. This was different.

I screamed as the electricity surged through me, my body convulsing in the chair. The sound of my own screams echoed through the room, growing louder as they filled every corner, every crevice.

When the panels finally lifted, I couldn’t see straight. My throat felt torn, and my head rang with the aftershock of the electricity. The latches fell away, and my body collapsed, limp and broken.

Two soldiers grabbed me, dragging me out of the room. I blacked out for a moment, my head lolling as they carried me through the halls. They shoved open a door into a large, dimly lit room. The air was thick and cold.

One soldier threw me over his shoulder, and the other rushed to speak with a scientist in a light blue coat. They tossed me onto a hard, metal surface that forced me upright. The scientist wasted no time, stabbing a needle into my arm.

The world began to blur, fading into darkness once again. But then, a blast of cold air hit me, snapping me back to the present. I reached out instinctively, but it was no use. The capsule door slid shut, sealing me inside. I pressed my hand against the glass, but the weight of exhaustion was too much. My vision dimmed, my body growing colder until darkness took me entirely.

Chapter Text

My eyes shot open, and my lungs gasped for air, panic flooding my senses. I was on the floor of a little cell with concrete walls and an annoying water drip. A rusted cot was propped in the corner, and one wall had a ball-sized impact dent with splintered cracks. My breathing slowed as my body adjusted to the warmer temperature, shivers making their way out of my goose-bumped skin.

I don't know how long I was sitting in the darkness, but eventually, a couple of officers came and lifted me out of the room. My whole body was sore as I followed behind two of them, and the one behind me kept pushing my back with the butt of his rifle to make me walk faster. My legs just couldn't keep up with them, like I hadn't used them in years.

We stepped into a room with a single, monstrous chair in the center. My stomach churned the moment I laid eyes on it—images of me screaming, the sound of a bullet, and the face of an officer flashed across my mind. The men shoved me into the chair and latched me in, only for me to see the officer that was pictured in my mind only a few seconds ago.

He looked a bit rougher around the edges than in my little vision, but his uniform was exactly the same as he bent down to meet me at eye level.

"My milaya," he said lowly in Russian, holding my chin with his thumb. "Oh, how I've missed seeing your face."

My eyebrows creased slightly in confusion, but as he stepped back, the arms attached to the chair came down and wrapped around my head. My whole world lit up as a scream filled the room.

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been here, wherever this is. Time blurs, each day the same as the last. Every time I’m thrown back into this cell, I pass out from exhaustion, pain, or some twisted combination of both. I can’t remember my name anymore; like it slipped through my fingers as if it was never mine to begin with.

I thought I had a good hold on it all by keeping track of the meal patterns, but they noticed the little scratches of tallies I marked into the concrete with the iron cuffs. That was when they began skipping meals and doubling up on the chair sessions, so I had no clue how many days spanned between each considering the amount of time I spent unconscious. 

Some sections were faded or coated in dried blood spots, but next to the area of tallies, it looked like numbers were scratched into the floor. I trailed my fingers over the etched '12860933,' the faint markings being old enough to feel completely smooth against the pad of my index finger.

My mind runs wild when I sleep by choice, usually waking me up drenched in a cold sweat. I'll get flashes of hyper-realistic images, and vivid faces of people before my mind makes them look like they're burning film in front of my eyes. 

I mostly see a scrawny blonde man trying his best to run, or I'll get glimpses of another man with a thin mustache working on a project, yelling with his hand out waiting to be passed a tool. I also see another man, but only the back of him with his brown hair styled and a rifle slung over his shoulder. The most I ever get of him is the fastest glimpse at his side profile, and seeing a yellow wing on his coat sleeve before the image burns away.

Sometimes I wake up to screaming. It would rattle the metal covering on my cell's vent, and the echo only worsens it. I had no idea who else this place was imprisoning and torturing, but from the rhythm and pattern of their cries and yells, I'm pretty sure they were strapped into the same machine I was.

I wonder if they hear me scream. I wonder if they know they aren't the only one.

When I'm not laying on the concrete floor listening to screaming or strapped into the chair though, the soldiers who run this place have me doing strength and endurance training with their guards. Every time they scramble my brain I get nervous about going to the gym, but muscle memory has become my friend.

They started with self-defense training but quickly moved on to offensive attack techniques. They'd have me practice my shooting on traitors of their group and knife work on those who have broken rules. I’m pretty spot on with the gun, hitting precisely where I was told if the superiors wanted the men to suffer or not, but sometimes if I remember their faces I like to see them suffer regardless.

As I lay on the floor of my cell in darkness though, I thanked my stars that I didn't wake up to screaming today. The Judas window slid open, beady eyes staring into here to check if I was awake or not.

Meeting his eyes, the man slammed the window shut in response. He unlocked the door and tossed a mound of fabric down in front of me before he unlocked my chains. I looked up at him and watched him walk back out, slamming the door shut behind him.

"So pleasant," I mumbled before changing into whatever they gave me. I don't recall this place ever giving me anything truly fitting, but I pulled on the dark brown tactical pants and black shirt before lacing up the boots. I also took this small window of opportunity to re-braid my hair, considering they rolled up the clothing in elastics which I can now use to replace my current ones. My hair was much looser at the root than I preferred, and the bands holding my current braids together seemed too brittle and stiff to survive being undone.

I banged on the door twice before the man unlocked it again, and it swung open as three other soldiers joined him, their machine guns loaded and ready. They stood in the hallway as I stepped out, with two of them moving in front of me and two trailing behind as we made our way toward the gym.

Standing in the room was Dobrow, the man in charge of the executions and interrogations I carry out. He was in the middle, not along the wall where he normally meets me. The gym was also completely dark on the other side with half of the overhead lights off.

"Hello, Milaya," he said stepping towards me, "Today we are going to do something different." Everyone in this facility only speaks Russian, which I understand, but somehow, also know two other languages.

I stood there frozen as he spoke, unsure what he meant by different. I only cocked an eyebrow at him, and he smiled as I did so. "It seems as if you've gotten too good for my men, so we are going to assess your skills,"

I stood still as he walked over to me, his hand cupping my cheek as I stared straight ahead, "do not fail me, Milaya."

I stared back at him without emotion, calm and ready for his test. He gave a small smile as he dropped his hand and stepped to the side, clearing his throat.

"Soldat!" Dobrow shouted, his voice cutting through the dark void of the gym.

The hairs on my arms prickled as the slow, heavy footsteps echoed against the gym floor. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, but stopped when a glare caught my eye. As the footsteps grew louder and boots emerged from the shadows, I saw the one thing that had shaken me since I first sat in that chair.

This man has a metal arm.

Dobrow’s footsteps from behind snapped me back to the present. He walked past, positioning himself between me and the man he called Soldier. The soldier’s shaggy brown hair fell in tufts around his head, covering his forehead and ears, the waves of it brushing against the upper back of his neck. He wore the same uniform as I did—tactical black—which only made him more imposing.

"Clean fighting, no intentional injuries," Dobrow said, his gaze flicking between us. "I want both of you in one piece after this, understood?"

We both nodded, saying nothing. The soldier’s eyes were locked on me as I took in every detail of him. From this close, I could tell we had very different approaches to fighting. This would be interesting.

The two of us began to circle, him waiting for me to make the first move while I observed how his weight shifted on his feet, silently estimating his reach. I could hear the soft huffs of air leaving his nostrils. In a split second, my body instinctively bent backward as his metal arm whistled through the air, missing me by inches.

I followed through, bringing my torso and legs with me as I kicked upward. My foot connected with his jaw, the sharp snap of his teeth echoing in the air. From the force of his swing, it was clear—his metal arm was still something he was adjusting to, but it was lethal all the same.

As I went to punch him, he blocked my hit. He would go to kick me; I'd move as swift as a breeze by him. Our fight seemed more like a dance than sparring; like we already knew each other's next moves. I could see the annoyance growing in his eyes as I blocked his hits, assuming he was not used to a good, even fight. The soldier did a little eyebrow scrunch of confusion, and I know that he saw the small veins in my neck start to glow by the collar of my shirt from the exertion of energy.

Little beads of sweat formed on our foreheads out of exhaustion and frustration. A blocking forearm met every single jab and every fist was caught and countered. Out of pure curiosity, I decided to let the soldier land a kick to the ribs.

And there's the adrenaline I needed.

I used the momentum from the kick to slip behind him, my arm locking around his neck. He struggled for a few seconds, his grunts vibrating through his body, but then he flung me over him with brutal force. My back hit the hard concrete, and I quickly rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding his boot coming down on my head.

Glancing up, I quickly hooked my arm around his locked knee, loosening the limb with sheer force as I brought the soldier down. He landed right on his ass, and his huff of annoyance was heard crystal clear.

I got off my back and basically pounced on him, my forearm now over his throat and my legs straddling his chest. A smirk tugged at my lips for a split second thinking I had him. But then, his metal fingers tangled in my hair at the base of my neck, yanking me off him with a force that made my vision blur.

This man just flung me like a doll—cute.

He got back up much faster than I, and as I was getting to my knees to stand, he lifted me by the fabric of my shirt and attempted to toss me in front of him. We had moved away from the center of the room and closer to the wall, and as I stood straight up, the base of his boot met my chest, and my back smacked against it.

Before I could move, his fists gathered my shirt and he lifted me against the concrete. Our bodies were flush against one another as my feet dangled and kicked, but my movements ceased as I stared at his face, inches from mine, our heavy breathing in sync.

As I looked into the soldier's eyes, my once adrenaline-filled body sunk into his grasp, a familiar calmness taking over. His blue eyes were chilling, but as I stared deeper into them, it was almost as if they defrosted the slightest bit. I didn't know my name, where I was, or anything about myself, but I knew those eyes. Those baby blues—those felt like home.

My mind snapped back to the present, and I drove my knee into his stomach. He grunted, folding over as I quickly dropped from the wall. As I stood, I pressed my hands to the back of my head trying to catch my breath. The soldier, easily recovered from the blow but out of breath from the fight was slightly hunched over, his hands on his knees as he fought for air.

"You know, it's better for your lungs if you're not doubled over," I said in English, not even meaning to. His head snapped up, and my eyes grew wide as he squinted. ‘Did he just understand me?’ I thought.

Our eyes were locked as we stood there in the half-lit gym. It was almost as if we had been in this moment before, the most realistic déjà vu I've ever experienced. I blinked as a flash of blue covered my eyelids. There was now snow surrounding us, and the soldier had much shorter hair styled out of his face. He had a gun slung over his shoulder and wore a navy jacket with a yellow wing stitched into its sleeve.

I blinked again, and with another blue flash, everything was erased. I only saw the barren gym, and I looked at him to see his expression soften and harden again. He slightly shook his head, almost as if he was shaking my little vision away too.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he responded. His voice was nicer than I thought it was going to be, a little soft yet raspy at the same time.

I lightly scoffed and rolled my eyes with a smirk as I still felt his on me, and Dobrow approached us from where he stood by the door. "That was kind of disappointing, you two read each other too well."

I felt my body stiffen as he spoke, and my hands dropped to my side as my shoulders squared, making me stand straight up. The soldier did the same, and he stiffened even more as Dobrow slowly walked over and grabbed his metal arm. He twisted it slightly to make a glare from the light above before looking up at the man with a smug smile.

"I expected you to be more aggressive with her," he stated. "I've seen you choke the life out of people with this; and this time, the worst you did was pull her hair?"

Did he just say 'this time?'

The soldier swallowed hard, and I saw his Adam's apple move as if he was about to speak. I barely noticeably shook my head no when his eyes flickered to me, earning a hard blink from him. Dobrow let out a long exhale through his nostrils before dropping the man's arm and turning to me.

"Again," he said flatly. His boots echoed as he returned to the wall where he was standing, and the soldier and I just stared each other down.

We sparred for what felt like an eternity, but in actuality was probably forty-five minutes to an hour. Each time the other tapped or we both were visibly out of breath, Dobrow would walk over, make us feel like shit, then we'd fight again. There would be little moments where one of us would catch the other off-guard, which for me, happens to be right now.

I grabbed his metal fist and went to twist his arm completely behind his back, but before I could push it up against his body, the soldier was able to spin and place his foot behind mine. My back hit the floor, and before the man could do anything else, I hooked my foot behind his knee and got him right on the ground, which wasn't the best idea since he fell forward on top of me.

I tried my best to wiggle and roll over so he'd be under me, but this came down to pure gravity. Being outweighed in this matter, I struggled underneath him as he had me pinned to the ground. His loose strands of hair that were damp with sweat were hanging over me, our heavy breaths causing them to move along with our breathing.

As we made eye contact, I glanced down at his lips as his tongue darted out and wet them. His flesh arm was across my collarbone holding me down while his metal hand had a firm grip on my hip. I looked back up to see him already staring down at me.

Those steel blue eyes were gazing into my soul, and almost instantly I felt my whole lower abdomen tighten. Flames were dancing in his eyes, and dare I say they were lustful, but I quickly pushed him off me as a slow clap was heard from the other side of the room.

I felt his eyes on me as we stayed there on the floor, and as I looked at him, he slowly looked away and rolled his eyes. I got up quickly and held out my hand for him, but the soldier made eye contact with me and got up completely on his own. I scoffed and turned my attention to Dobrow who was pressing the call button on the wall.

"That's enough for today," Dobrow sighed before I caught barely audible words. "You two never surprise me anymore…"

My eyes flickered over to the soldier, who was just staring straight ahead into the void. I know he feels my eyes on him, but something in my gut tells me I shouldn’t engage. Dobrow’s tone was almost disappointed, on top of him mentioning ‘this time’ earlier…am I missing something?

Eight officers entered the room and escorted us out of the gym, me following behind the soldier. The gears were turning in my head as we walked through the facility, and my eyes were focused on the man in front of me. His sleeve was ripped off so his arm could fit comfortably, and he walked with a certain type of swagger where I couldn't tell if it was because he felt badass or because the arm was heavy.

We passed by a few rooms that looked more like medical bays, all empty but their machines were on. They led us into a room with two chairs, and I saw the goosebumps litter the skin on the back of his neck as we walked in. They shoved both of us in them, and like it was second nature, we looked at each other with straight faces but pleading eyes.

So it was him that I heard screaming.

Chapter Text

Our voices echoed in sync, bouncing off the walls as the Russians stood around like they'd heard it all before. The machine finally powered down, our jagged breaths being the only noise in the room besides the rattling of the vents.

Lighter footsteps than normal came from behind the chairs. I've been so used to heavy boots that it made me more alert than I thought I'd be as I tried to focus my eyes. My gaze locked on the small brown dress shoes that appeared in my line of sight, and my head raised as my eyes followed the stitching of a tweed blazer up to the stout man's thin-rimmed glasses.

"My dear," the small man said softly in English as he got close and examined my face. His eyes traveled in curiosity, purely analyzing and nothing more. He leaned in close, his beady eyes inches from my face. "You're quieter than I remember."

I stared back at him and analyzed every detail I could. There was a strange sense of familiarity prickling at the back of my mind, though I couldn’t place it. The longer I stared, the more intense a burning sensation in my temple got, and I tore my eyes away from him, squeezing them shut, as the sensation became too uncomfortable. I shook my head slightly, trying to rid the burning feeling that was slithering through my head. My eyes slightly watered, and as I blinked away the forming tears, the short man huffed a laugh through his nostrils.

He stepped over to my fellow imprisoned, inspecting the metal panels that made up his arm. As my eyes also made their way over his limb, I hadn't noticed the red star painted on the plates of his shoulder, a true Soviet marking. The soldier had a hard stare on his face, not a single muscle moving as he held his gaze straight ahead while the little man inspected him.

"Doctor Zola," one of the officials said from behind. The doctor, I guess, stood straight up and made his way over to the man holding a folder in his hand. I squinted and tried to read what was written on it as the guy flipped it open, only catching the handwritten "Case 017" and "1949."

Wait...1949? As in, the year?

My eyes locked on the two men as they spoke in hushed tones, picking up on a few mouthed words that were definitely coded. Directly behind them along the wall was Dobrow, his face perfectly in the gap of the men's heads. The official nodded and handed Dr. Zola the folder, snapping it shut as the doctor turned to us with a smile before reverting his attention.

"I think they are ready," he stated, slightly moving his head as he looked around. "Where is the handler?"

Dobrow stepped forward and saluted before making his way to Zola.

"Here," Zola said, reaching for a briefcase on a table, "I had this made for you."

He put in a code and the case popped open, a few papers slipping out. His hands, small and delicate, gripped the coffee-stained notes tightly, moving them out of the way before he picked up a leather-bound book and audibly sighed.

Zola held a small red journal, the leather looking untouched and brand new. In the center was a large, embossed black star, the emblem slightly glaring in the light as he handed it to Dobrow.

"In there, I have detailed all of the programming materials and notes, really anything you would need. I also left plenty of pages for your own findings or notes about these two because, as we all know, they are full of surprises."

There were a few chuckles around the room at that comment, which I kept my straight face on for but boiled a little inside. Part of the annoyance was just being a negative spectacle to them at the moment, and the other part was having no clue why. What surprises was he referencing? What exactly have I, or we, done together other than spar not too long ago?

"How do we know it…or they, will work?" Dobrow asked the doctor, sounding genuinely curious.

"I had sent my coded list to your superiors while these two were...away," he said glancing at the soldier and me who sat in silence. "It had been reported to me that they had been read every day, and in some instances multiple times, while electromagnetic shocks were sent through the chambers. Apparently, there were some effects recorded through brainwaves, but I think we will still need to reinforce the material. We will, with no doubt, see results through our persistence."

Dobrow nodded at Doctor Zola, and he quickly shut the briefcase and looked at the group of people surrounding him. "Well, I must get going before the Americans begin to worry...please inform me of any successes or discoveries. Hail Hydra!"

"Hail Hydra!" everyone in the room responded as Zola's little legs quickly carried him out. He was sure to get himself one last glance at the two of us, a content smile on his face.

As soon as the double doors shut behind him, almost all of the Russian soldiers who stood at attention along the wall flocked around Dobrow for a glimpse of the journal. They all were speaking in code, flipping through the pages and running their fingers down whatever was written on them.

I looked to my right, the soldier and I making eye contact. Both of us sat there confused, and I could tell by the slightest movement of his eyebrows that we were both worried. These were the men we were at the hands of, the ones who strap us down to these chairs, the ones who prod us with needles and smack us down with chains; and that book seemed to be another prop of power to wield over our heads. 

I glanced over to Dobrow, who was already looking at me, and my eyes quickly met the floor. His heavy boots made their way over toward us, the flawless black leather appearing on the floor in front of me. His index finger met my chin and tilted my head up. He wore not a single emotion on his face as he traced up my jawline before backhanding me across the face.

I heard a mechanical whirring come from the soldier's metal arm, his muscles and nerves tensing as my head whipped to the side. I glanced up at him, loose hairs falling in my line of vision, as his nostrils flared and his face flushed. A low chuckle came from Dobrow as he looked down at him.

"Are you getting protective, Soldat?" our superior teased, the soldier’s jaw tightening as the metal plates making up his arm constricted. "Guard dog..." Dobrow mumbled as he flipped open the book and waved over the scientists who stood off to the side.

“It seems to be the same for both of them,” a scientist in a blue lab coat stated as he peeked over Dobrow’s shoulder. “Don’t you think there would be different protocols for each?”

“We should not wish to question the doctor, Orkovsky,” another officer responded.  “Having her alongside him was a treat from the start…”

Dobrow stood menacingly in front of us, silently flipping through the pages, absorbing the information. Glancing to my right, the soldier’s head hung in front of him, and all I could do was inhale and look toward the ceiling.

The arms of the machines we were strapped to looked like satellite panels, and the distant lights reminded me of stars. They were dim enough and the ceiling seemed far enough away that, if delusional, I would have believed it to be the night sky. ‘I wonder what the sky looks like right now, wherever I am.’ 

A blue flash took over my eyelids as I blinked, and in my line of sight was a young blonde soldier sitting at a table. There were cigarette butts in the ashtray next to a radio, then one smoking as it sat in between his fingers. His head snapped to me and he began speaking, but everything out of his mouth sounded like gibberish, then out of nowhere–

“Siberia,” I said aloud, everyone’s attention snapping up at me. I sat there, mouth agape, eyes blank, now staring back at all of the officers and scientists. They all were locked on me, some with furrowed brows, suspicious, while others had one tweaked up in confusion. There was no young blonde man to be seen, and I was certainly not in that room.

“What did she just say?” a higher-ranking man in the back muttered, my enhanced hearing picking up his now faster breathing and heartbeat.

Dobrow’s face hardened, and it only took one glance from him to have one of the men in the blue lab coats running toward the machine control panels. Many others took the cue to silently leave the room or go back to what they were doing, and my handler, as the doctor from earlier referred to him, stood in front of me and the soldier with white knuckles gripping his new leather journal.

The machine began to power up again, the arms coming down around our heads as Dobrow cleared his throat, a smirk curling his lips. "Now, let us give these magic words a try, hm?"

Chapter Text

My vision was blurry as I gasped for air, goosebumps littering my skin. I didn’t realize it fully; I was being dragged by two men on either side of me. The strength to keep my head up was nonexistent and the loose hair curtained my face. My skin was slick, head to toe, but not with sweat; all I could feel was a frostiness trying to leave my body. 

In the large room I entered, sat a chair. My eyes and hearing focused, my stomach tightened, and my heart started to run a marathon. Upon trying to recall why I felt this way, I was placed in the chair and latched limb by limb. 

"Желание...Ржавый...Семнадцать..." the Russian words seeped through in between my screams.

I felt my brain attempting to fight it as the electricity riveted through me.

"Рассвет...Печь...Девять..."

A fire burned through my veins as they lit up bright blue under my skin.

"Добросердечный...Возвращение на родину...Один...Грузовой вагон."

As the last word was read, my consciousness was yanked from the forefront of my brain. I knew I was alive, and I knew I was present, but it didn’t feel like me.

“Good evening, Milaya.”

“Ready to comply, sir,” I responded, not even realizing I did so.

“Oh how I’ve missed the sound of your voice,” he whispered, mostly to himself, but my advanced hearing had me privy to it,

“Follow me, we’re going to the hangar. I will give you the mission objectives.”

I walked down the hallway behind him. Unassisted. Alone. Just us. A shiver down my spine tells me this has never happened before. My gut tells me either armed guards or soldiers have always accompanied me. 

Arriving at the hangar, the officer stopped in front of a desk with a manilla folder resting on its ledge. “You wait here, I’ll be back momentarily,” he shares, walking back in the direction we just came. 

To my left was a small aircraft. It looked as if it was painted camouflage, and two red stars were painted on each wing. Multiple soldiers seemed to be prepping the plane, loading it with ammunition, a few MRE crates, and random strapped-up metal containers. I stood and observed for about twenty minutes before Dobrow returned with another person. 

From my peripheral, I could see his broad shoulders and a slight shadow was cast over me from his height. 

‘Partner,’ my brain said, my inhale sharp. 

“Our forces are deployed, currently at the Korean peninsula,” Dobrow spoke, “and you both are to aid their advancement. Eliminate any enemy that crosses your path, and interrogate if necessary. Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra,” we responded in unison, not even realizing words left my mouth. 

“Sir,” a young man approached, “their gear has been loaded on the aircraft. We will be ready for take-off in less than five minutes. Their extra materials are on the table along with the mission documents.”

“Thank you, Vadik,” Dobrow responded before turning to us. “Do not disappoint me, both of you.”

My partner and I only stared forward, not even looking at him. Our silence satisfied our superior enough for him to walk back toward the offices lining the hangar. My partner turned slightly, his focus now on me. I reciprocated the action, except I looked directly up at him. His steel blue eyes felt like they were seeping into my soul, perfectly complimenting his brown tufts and light stubble along his jaw. Just below his jaw was a metal arm, but again, my brain spoke to me. 

‘No threat. Normal.’

“Get your stuff, get on the plane,” an older man spat from behind us in very rough English. He shoved the man forward first, and I followed him to the table. Like it was instinct, I reached for a pair of leather fingerless gloves. 

As soon as they met my palms and knuckles, it felt like a second skin had enveloped my hands. A smile subconsciously graced my lips as I flexed my hands and I heard a loud exhale come from my right. My partner pocketed a few knives before grabbing one of the two bundles of fabric and the manilla folder. Without a word, he made his way over to the plane, and almost as if there was a ticking clock in my head, I took whatever I could off of the table along with the other bundle of fabric and followed. 

We sat silently in the cargo area of the aircraft for almost the entire time. The plane zipped through the black sky, and I caught glimpses of my partner, the pilot, and everything in between when the clouds decided to periodically uncover the moon. The mission file was exactly what Dobrow said: advance our forces and eliminate enemy parties, interrogate if needed. 

“Landing in twenty minutes, so I suggest you get ready, soldiers,” the young pilot semi-shouted. This may have been a stealth plane, but the engine was still loud when in the cabin. I glanced at my partner, who only glanced at me, before getting up from the metal bench. Like I was on autopilot again, I grabbed my rolled-up fabric and undid the bundle. 

When the black tactical jacket was unrolled, so were a pair of tactical pants along with a thick belt and a few discreet holsters. The fabric had a certain texture to it as if it was almost waterproof. What we were equipped with on our bodies currently was regular fabric, and I could sense the hesitation from the man who now stood next to me.

“Korea this time of year…mostly rain,” I spoke, my voice a little rough from not being used the entire flight. I looked at him like I could almost see the thoughts popping into his head like bubbles. ‘Rain…metal arm…ripped sleeve.’

“There has to be some kind of tape on the plane,” I mumbled, “I can tape the fabric so it doesn’t fray or bother your skin.” 

As I dug through the underside of the bench looking for tape, the sound of rustling clothes came from my left. I turned to see him changing, his back to me. My cheeks immediately flushed, and out of respect, I turned my attention back to my search. Within seconds the tape I needed was spotted and in hand, but my eyes darted back to him. 

His hair was just long enough in the front to hang as he looked down to pull his foot from his pant leg. The shadows the moon created in the cabin made his leg muscles look sculpted, and as he pulled the waterproof pants on and fastened the buttons, the muscles on his back flexed with every movement. 

I swallowed down the tightening feeling that was trying to climb my throat and closed the bench top a little louder so he knew I was coming back. The man immediately turned to face me, his undershirt in hand, a simple expression gracing his face.

“We should do this layer by layer,” I told him, gesturing to the shirt and jacket. “Come sit, we have about ten minutes and I still need to change.”

He put the undershirt on and immediately sat down. The tape was easy enough to rip, but as my fingers ran over his flesh to get said tape under the fabric to secure the seam, I could feel the goosebumps prick on my skin. His face was slightly tinged pink with each touch, and I began to feel a little bit of a burn in my temples. 

As I tried to focus harder on evening out the tape on the seam, a blue flash accompanied my blink. We were in a forest, next to a mound of wood that I assumed would later become a fire. There were dry pine needles and early buds that had fallen off of branches littered at our feet. The man sat there, hair messy and face dirty, his eyebrows creased in pain.

“I know, Sarge,” I heard my voice say, “I wish I had somethin’ for ya, but unfortunately we have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“If Dugan didn’t finish the reserve flask of bourbon two nights ago…” he said, wincing as he removed his navy jacket. 

“Don’t dwell on the what coulda been, we gotta get this out and stitched now,” I said. I saw myself cutting his undershirt, revealing a shallow bullet wound in his torso. “You’re lucky this was just a ricochet.” 

“You’re lucky too, doll,” he quipped, his voice strained as my gloved fingers and tweezers met his wounded skin. “Imagine if you were out here, only Steve and the goons to keep you company.”

I felt the urge to roll my eyes as a smile spread on my face, his almost being a reflection of mine. “Alright, babe, deep breath.”

Sweat beads lined my forehead as I sat there, staring at the man. He looked as bewildered as I felt. My hands were moving on their own, still securing the tape around the thick undershirt. 

“Thank you,” he muttered. I just smiled tightly at him, handing him the roll before getting up and walking over to grab my clothes. 

I felt his eyes on me, and not in a bad way, but the feeling was strong enough that I turned my head to the side, only my profile being visible to him. “We don’t have enough time for me to change and tape up your jacket,” I pointed out, the man still staring at me as the tape roll sat in his hands.

“I know,” he responded, his eyes softening as he looked from me to the tape and jacket next to him. As I pulled off my gear, I heard the tape ripping and fabric rustling, but every so often, I could feel his icy eyes in my direction.

We had been walking through the brush of the riverbank for about three hours, our armed forces advancing at a two-hour delay behind us. I had a large gun slung behind me, two pistols holstered on my hips, and multiple knives strapped to my thighs. I felt the dried splatters of blood on my forehead as well as cuts on my cheekbone and eyebrow, having just killed our fourth group of soldiers who had crossed our path in the total eighteen hours we’d been here.

Walking along the shoreline, I glanced down at the water reflecting the almost sunset. All that could be heard were bullfrogs and various insects, as well as our boots that trudged through the grass.

"Let's stop," I suggested as we arrived at a secluded opening. My partner turned to look at me, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"You have a little..." he said trailing off, his flesh fingers brushing over his forehead.

"I know, I want to wash it," I answered, crouching at the shoreline. As the cold saltwater touched my skin, relief rushed through my body. There was nothing like the feeling of cold, fresh water; the sting on my open wounds being somewhat blissful.

"I could have helped, y'know," he mumbled, leaning against a tree.

"Helped with what?" I replied, turning to look at him. His brown hair fell over his face and covered a few new bruises as he looked down at his boots, his arms crossed, and one leg crossed over the other.

"So you wouldn't have gotten cut, I could have helped," he said as he looked up at me. We stared at each other for a second before I looked down at my dripping hands, the slightest tinge of brown in the water from the dried blood.

“Ah, helped me fight,” I breathed out, a half smile gracing my face as I was still squatted next to the water. “Really, what would you have wanted me to do? Yell to get your attention, or tell the men I was fighting to wait until you were done killing their teammates so you could assist me in killing them?

He let out a deep, annoyed breath as he pushed himself off the tree, stepping back onto the wilted grass that made up a makeshift trail. I slightly groaned as I got up, my leg muscles tight. When I rinsed my face though, it felt like the cuts were almost fully healed—incredibly fast for cells to regenerate and recover.

My partner didn’t start walking until I got within arm's length of him. As our boots met the soft ground, I contemplated my next words, my gut telling me we shouldn’t be making casual conversation during the mission.

Glancing back at me, I met his eyes for not even a half second before he cleared his throat and looked ahead. "You got a name?” he asked, quiet yet clear. 

As I opened my mouth to answer, it quickly shut as I realized I had nothing to say. I racked my mind for a name, but I felt my temples begin to burn as I tried to think of something that didn’t seem to exist. ‘Darling,’ my brain chirped on repeat, but I knew that it wasn’t mine. 

"Do you?" I retorted, deflecting his question. 

He stopped walking and turned to face me, his eyes slightly squinted as he looked down. They danced over my neutral features that stared back up at him, the chilly blue standing out in the dusk that was quickly draping over our surroundings.

"You're fiery, you know that?"

"Now I do," I responded, walking past him. I heard him follow behind me as I continued down the path.

“Well, I’m gonna need to call you something…When I said I coulda helped earlier, I realized there was no way for you to let me know…” he trailed.

It was my turn to stop walking and look up at him. My mouth opened and closed, knowing he wasn’t wrong, but still not having an answer. I could see the light concern in his eyes, and if we’re supposed to be working together to advance our comrades, then we need to figure something out. 

“The only thing that came to my head earlier was what Dobrow calls me…” I told him somewhat reluctantly as I looked to the side. “It doesn’t feel right to have you say that; I can’t explain it.”

His lips pursed into a line, “I know.” 

I looked up at him, and I could see the gears turning as we both stood there. His flesh hand met my arm, sending pleasant shivers throughout my body. Without a word, our eyes spoke to each other: ‘Let's keep moving.’ 

Night hadn’t fully taken over our surroundings, but as we walked along, it felt like the sky was dimming by the second. Stars were sprinkled along the changing sky, and fog danced over the body of water to our left. I glanced back at my partner, his head down as he stepped over a muddy patch of rocks and large sticks, his arm gleaming in the faint, fresh moonlight.

“Krasnaya zvezda,” I whispered in Russian, still walking forward on our path.

“Hm?” he responded as he looked up, both of us gradually coming to a stop.

“Krasnaya zvezda,” I repeated. “It means ‘red star,’ like for your arm.” 

I felt a light sweat prick out of nervousness from his lack of reaction. It was the first thing to come to mind, and I could see if he didn’t like it or want to be—

“Ognyonok for you then,” he replied, the slightest smile on his face. Even though his cheeks didn’t meet his eyes, I could see the contentedness in them. 

‘Little fire,’ I thought, ‘fitting.’

The corners of my lips tugged up in a small smile at his idea, and as I was about to respond, we froze. About ten yards ahead of us there was a large snap, the crisp wood’s fracture echoing through the area where we stood.

Like something clicked in our heads, both of us were locked in with our guns drawn ready to defend. My partner was ahead of me now, and as we stalked forward, it looked as if we were on the outskirts of a small town, the abandoned huts and small shacks organized to outline a common area. Looking up to my right, there was a plank hanging from one of the shacks, the word 'BAR' burned into the wood. My eyes scanned the area, unable to place an obvious threat, but the nature around us was eerily still.

“Pull out the map, see where we are,” he said. Out of my pocket came a map of the peninsula the size of an envelope. Pulling out my compass and figuring out our coordinates, I was able to place where we probably were.

“Goyang, Krasnaya,” I replied as I folded the paper back up, “Goyang, South Korea.” I looked up to see him slightly smirking at me, and my eyebrows naturally furrowed.

“Shortening it already, huh?” he quipped. I felt my facial muscles immediately drop to suppress a smile as I rolled my eyes. 

“Guess I am,” I breathed out, repositioning my gun to remind us both of our current state. Within seconds, both of our heads snapped toward the bar as something fell inside, the rattle echoing through the empty village center. The man and I looked at each other, the gaze being confirmation enough, that we had to investigate the shack. 

"I’ll get front, you get back," he whispered, quickly making his way toward the bamboo-looking door. Thankfully the direction we came from had no windows, so I had no problem making my way around back. I held my breath as I stood next to the back door, and as the sound of the front door being kicked in hit my ears, it completely aligned my senses. 

I slipped through the back and into the shack, barely making a sound as I entered into an almost pitch-black prep area. My eyes adjusted almost instantly, and I could hear them fighting as grunts and crashing sounds echoed from the main area.

Making my way through the batwing doors, the two men were brutally going at it. Krasnaya’s opponent, our new target, was a tall black man wearing a soldier's uniform. From the amount of effort my partner was putting in, I knew this man was not like the others we’ve come across today. I so badly wanted to just snipe him from where I stood, but the mission objective stated we could interrogate people if necessary. Seeing this man fight makes me want to ask some questions.

"Oooh! By these punches, it seems you're like me!" the target yelled, a teasing tone in his voice. "C'mon, Pretty Boy, try and land one!"

As their combat became more intense, I figured it would be a good time to step in. I quietly moved behind the target and whacked his head with the butt end of my gun. It didn't seem to even phase him as he hit Krasnaya square in the jaw before turning and throwing me across the room. 

My body crashed into the frail tables that still lined the wall, the veins on my visible skin hinting bright blue as I got up. Having sparred with my partner, I'm used to his above-average strength and agility, but that punch and throw only proved that our target was enhanced. 'So that's what he meant.' 

As the two of them continued their hand-to-hand combat, I raised my gun, tired of wasting time. I hit the target right in the shoulder, an intentionally nonfatal shot, thinking it would be enough to stun him and allow us the opportunity to get some information.

I was dead wrong.

As the bullet pierced his skin, he let out the most guttural yell I'd ever heard. As he had a grip on my partner’s forearm, he pulled with all of his strength to distract from the pain. My jaw could have hit the floor as the target held the detached metal forearm and hand, my partner now stumbling back from the force of his pull on something that, now, wasn't attached to anything. 

Krasnaya screamed as he fell to his knees, the bit of the limb still attached to his body sparking a little. Red filled my vision as I took three gaping steps toward the target and kicked him right in the face, his body almost instantly meeting the ground. Blood poured from his nose as he groaned and didn't move, and I went over and crouched next to my partner.

"Oh my god, what can I do? What do you want me to do?" I frantically asked, moving the sweat-drenched hair from his face as he lay flat against the dirt floor.

"Jesus, fuck," he spat in English with his eyes squeezed shut just as a few stray tears rolled down the side of his head. As he lay there in pain, I felt the tears prick in my own eyes, feeling helpless since this wasn't a legitimate flesh wound I could just wrap up—I wasn't trained for this.

There was still no movement from the target, and as I put my leg straight out and lifted my partner's head from the ground and onto my thigh, his blue eyes looked up at me.

"What can I do?" I asked, still frantic, but in English as well.

"Doll, it just hurts like hell," he said sucking in a breath, "it hurts like fucking hell."

As the word 'doll' rolled off of his tongue, my heart fell into my stomach and all of the air left my lungs. I stared right into his eyes, and it was as if they were opening heaven's gates. I saw myself riding on the back of a motorcycle with him, laughing and holding onto his torso for dear life. I saw us lying on our backs looking up at the stars as a fire crackled beside us. I saw him dangling with a ravine below us, pure fear on his face. I saw a pool of red in the snow when he was lying there looking barely conscious. I saw a recording of him getting shot in the head.

“...B-Buck? You're alive...” I mumbled, barely audible as my hand brushed over his cheek. His eyes went from strained to alert, shock overcoming the pain that previously was on his face. My head burned as I saw the flashes of memories, and all I could do was grit my teeth. 

"Who…what...Y/N?" he breathed out, confusion and realization becoming one. "What’s...where...fuck," he hissed as his muscles spazzed, reminding him of his missing limb as the loose wires sparked.

"What the hell..." a gruff voice said. My head snapped to the other side of the room, our target sitting up clutching the shoulder of his blood-soaked uniform. He squinted over at us, trying to get a good look at what was going on. As we made eye contact, his entire face dropped.

"Holy mother of God...You're that missing Stark girl," he said, and I froze at his words. "They've been lookin' for you since '45..." 

Stark. Y/N Stark. That's my name…that’s me?

My heart began to race, my palms instantly became clammy, and I couldn’t tell if it was my breath stuck in my throat or bile pushing itself back down. I put Bucky's head down on the ground, earning a groan from him, as I got up and made my way over to our target. The man's eyes were fixed on Bucky, even as I stood above him.

"Oh my Lord, that must be the Sergeant..." he breathed out.

"You ripped off my fucking arm!" Bucky yelled, his shoulder sparking as his nerves spazzed.

"I didn't know it was actually A PART of you, man!" the target yelled back, "I don't want this thing!"

The half arm was tossed and landed perfectly next to Bucky, who writhed in pain.

"How…how were you able to do all of that?” I asked, my voice slightly quivering. “How’d you throw me across the room and keep up fighting with him?”

"Why you wanna know?” he sassed. “You're just gonna tell who you're working for since it's obviously not for us."

‘Желание...Ржавый…’ echoed in my head, flashes of Dobrow’s face and the electric panels coming into my line of vision. I shook my head and kicked the wall next to the target out of irritation, clearly seeing the foot-sized dent I just put into the stone. I took a deep breath before I turned back to him, distress obvious.

"Is it…is it what I worked on with Erskine? A continuation of the program?" I asked, this time more direct. His face went stale, and I knew that I hit a dinger,

"Who's running it now then?" I asked as my concern and curiosity took over, but he wasn't budging. "Look, it’s obvious you're enhanced, and I just remembered my identity about two minutes ago thanks to you, but what scientist was able to get into my files to get any information about the—"

"Stop pestering me when you should know the answer," he spat. I painfully glanced back at Bucky, a flash of a face accompanying my blink. Thin mustache, brown eyes, smirk. Brother. 

"Look, just knock me out so I can get the hell outta here. The Army will be on their way as soon as my heart rate drops to a certain point," the stranger said as he yanked at his neckline, showing wires and a vital reader stick-on. As he closed his eyes, I took a deep breath and hit his head with my rifle instantly knocking him out cold. 

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, staring down at the soldier as he lay there unconscious. I bent down and yanked his dog tags from his neck, undoing the clasp and leaving one of the metal tags in his pocket as identification. I put the chain with one of the tags still attached in my pocket before walking back over to Bucky.

"We gotta get outta here," he said, sucking his teeth in as another muscle spazzed. His eyes squeezed shut and whipped his head to the side, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or if he was getting residual flashes of our conditioning like I was.

"I know," I answered as I bent down behind his head and put my hands under his shoulders. "I'm gonna push up to get you sitting, so on the count of three, try your best to get up, okay? One, two, three…"

A yell erupted from him as we got up into a sitting position, the beads of sweat gliding down his face. "Get me to stand, I’ll be fine."

I swallowed hard as I got in front of him, reaching out my hand for his only available one. As we grabbed each other’s wrists, I yanked him up, the exhausted man now standing before me. For this reason and this reason only, I was thankful for my strength from Zola's serum.

"I'll grab your arm and we'll go okay? We'll head right for the other side of the woods where the American came from," I said as I picked up the section of his metal arm that lay on the ground, sticking it under my right arm. He nodded as I walked back over and put my free arm around his torso, leading him out of the hut.

Chapter Text

Night had encapsulated the peninsula, the sky clear with stars speckling the sky and bats fluttering from tree to tree. Buck and I had been trudging through the wooded area for over an hour, making sure not to follow any specific trail or path to avoid any unexpected guests. 

He gripped my right shoulder, his fingertips white from holding on so tightly, as he tried to keep his balance. Bucky’s equilibrium was all sorts of messed up. When Zola and his team attached the metal limb, they made sure to make it fully operational, like the arm was an organic extension of him. Making it even worse, the half of the arm that was still attached to his body jolted and sparked every so often, the poor guy wincing as his body forgot it was ripped off. 

I tried my best to avoid rocks, logs, or uneven ground. Even with my serum strength, I wouldn’t want to carry Bucky as a deadweight if he passed out or further worsened his injury. Like clockwork, there was a sharp intake of breath and a wince from him every two minutes. ‘He doesn’t deserve this,’ I thought. 

As we trekked, whispers of words and commands slithered through my consciousness. I would hear Dobrow saying random words in Russian, I’d see flashes of laboratories and men crowding me with clipboards. All I could do was grit my teeth, because even though it made my skin burn and spiders crawl under said skin, Buck had it much worse than I. 

"How the hell...did we get into it…with the Soviets anyway?" he asked, his breathing labored as a fresh breeze swept over us. "And who on earth was that guy?"

“First question, I have no idea,” I replied, helping him over an unavoidable log. “Second, according to the dog tag I threw in the river, his name was Isaiah Bradley, U.S. Army.” 

“That guy, he was a super soldier,” he said, hesitation evident in his voice, “like Steve.”

“There’s not a doubt in my mind,” I mumbled, my eyes watering from the burning sensation as I tried to think of the days and nights I worked with Abe to perfect the formula Steve received. “I mean, it’s no surprise people are trying to recreate it after seeing the singular success. I just…I want to know how.”

“Whatcha mean, doll?”

“Even before administering it to Steve, Erskine had me sign all of this paperwork never to disclose his scientific process,” I replied, taking a deep breath. “I mean, I think the only reason why our serum wasn’t rejected by the human body was ‘cause of the last-minute tweaks we made, the ones that were never officially recorded.”

Bucky stopped walking, looking up at me. His brows were drawn together, and I couldn’t decipher if it were out of concern or confusion. I swallowed thickly, continuing. 

“Abe and I had some…long chats about the serum and its morality,” I shared, my words selective. “At the time, we were positive, and excited, and eager to make unheard-of progress in the scientific world. A few nights before Steve’s procedure, we were up until about 3 am working and chatting, and everything felt so…uneasy out of nowhere. Was I proud of my work? Yes, of course. Was I terrified at the thought of possibly changing mankind forever? 100%.”

Silence fell over us, and all I could do was wrack my brain and figure out how I remembered all of that when I didn’t even know how old I was or my favorite color. Bucky cleared his throat, and an underlying sense of hesitation came from him. I side-glanced, silently signaling his turn to speak because I knew he wanted to.

“Uh, earlier, when you realized I was me and you were you,” he started, “you said something that didn’t make sense.”

“Well quite frankly none of this makes sense,” I replied, earning a raised eyebrow and shrug in agreement. 

“Yeah but…you said it more like a statement, not a question.”

“What was it?”

He took a deep breath like he thought he was about to be punished for asking. “You, you said ‘you’re alive’ but really emphasized that alive part…did, did something happen?”

In an instant, it was like my eyes were draped with a cinema screen, and I saw him from behind strapped down to a metal chair. There was a Russian officer and it looked like they were going at it, but all I could hear right now was the buzzing of the blood overloading my eardrums. Before I could say a word to him, I watched the Bucky sitting in front of me get shot in the as my vision went blank.

My head felt like it was about to bubble over and melt my skin away, all of my jagged memories trickling into my consciousness. Bucky had three heads as I blinked furiously, each head heavily concerned as I reached out for a tree trunk half a foot from me. 

“Woah, hey, easy,” he said, letting go of my shoulder and steadying himself. My nails dug into the bark, literally, my advanced hearing noting each wood chip that met the ground. Sweat beads lined any exposed skin, and my clothing felt damp with sweat. 

“Fuck…” I muttered, my eyes squeezing shut as I grit my teeth. Multiple strings of thought in about five different languages were streaming through my conscience all at once, on top of the burning sensation. My veins shined through my skin, and Dobrow’s voice strung random words together.

“Семнадцать…”

“...Грузовой вагон…”

“…Добросердечный.”

“Buck…I’m–I can’t…” I choked. I could sense the stress radiating off of him, and I could hear the sizzling and crackling of the wires that dangled from his arm. 

Out of nowhere, I heard the faint sound of helicopter blades, and it felt like a brick was dropped in my stomach. My back was now against the tree as I slid down to the ground. The feeling of rough flesh met my cheek, and I opened my eyes to see Bucky staring at me as he tried to keep his balance while squatting. 

“You gotta get up for me, doll,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “I know it's hard right now but we gotta move.”

I nodded silently, a stray tear escaping as I leaned into his touch. “I miss you,” I mumbled.

“I’m right here; always have been,” he whispered, but I heard the little crack in his voice. The helicopter sound was now a few miles closer. 

“I miss you,” I exhaled, nerves bubbling up my body, “I-I don’t miss the soldier, I don’t miss my krasnaya zvezda…I, I miss—”

A loud snap came from behind me, and Bucky’s pupils dilated instantly. Goosebumps danced up my limbs, and a shiver up my spine. Within three seconds, I pulled a knife from my thigh and spun from sitting against the tree to up on one knee, flinging it into the darkness. 

A sound of ripping fabric followed by the thwack to a tree trunk met my ears, as well as a slew of muttered curse words in Russian. As my eyes focused in the dark, another snap came from behind us again, and with the force of us both whipping around, Bucky’s torso fell back into me. 

“I will say, you two got a bit further than we thought,” Dobrow croaked from the dark bushes and brush. “Mission report.”

“Twenty-seven dead, one interrogated,” I responded, not even realizing the words that spilled out of my mouth. 

“And the interrogated dead?”

“Incapacitated.” 

Our superior sucked in his teeth, clearly hoping for a different outcome. “And your injury, Soldat?”

“Physical combat, sir,” he replied, the fresh sheen of sweat glistening in the moonlight.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his arms going behind his back as he turned around to return in the direction he came. “I am disappointed in the lack of attention to mission objectives.”

“Go to hell,” I spat, glaring at the back of his head. 

“Oh, Milaya, I wish you would have learned by now,” he said, his voice soft yet dripping with poison. 

Without a second to think and a prick to the neck, I lost consciousness almost immediately as my body slumped back onto the tree trunk and Bucky’s slumped back onto mine.

Artificial light was the only thing that accompanied my vision as I regained consciousness, groaning loudly in my moment of blindness. As I tried to move my hand to cover my face, I soon realized I was strapped down to a metal table and lying flat on my back. I was only in my tactical pants and a tank top, and the chill littered my body with goosebumps.

I turned my head to see a soldier standing guard at the door, and as our eyes met for a brief moment, I saw him blink harshly upon the realization of my being awake. He stepped forward and pressed an intercom button, and not even a minute later, a group of three men walked into the room with a large metal case and a tank with some kind of hose.

One of the men swung the case onto a table to my right, and they all put on thick industrial gloves as they surrounded me.

"Give her something to bite down on, my ears can't handle more screaming today.”

Two of the men looked at each other, and from their silent conversation, I gathered that neither had any idea what to do. The man to my left gave the man to my right an up-down look, to which the man on my right rolled his eyes and undid his belt buckle.

My eyes widened as he stared down at me, to which he only rolled his eyes and spoke in rough English. "Don't ruin my belt, it's genuine leather."

"No prom-" I tried to respond before he stuck it between my teeth. I was barely able to move my head, and the men secured their gloves before one of them opened the case. As he flicked the clasps open and propped the lid up, a smile curved onto his lips.

"Here we go, boys!”

Each of them had a wild smile on their face as the iron rod was raised in the air, the outline of a skull with tentacles on the end of it. Hydra. The one whose belt was currently between my teeth looked at me as he held the hose up toward the metal star. As his fingers flicked a switch, vibrant flames came bustling out. My eyes had to have doubled in size, every hair on my body standing straight up, and his chuckle was all I could hear in my head.

"If you ever go off mission again, do not forget who you belong to...сука." 

Before I even had a moment to respond, my right shoulder sizzled, the smell of burning flesh making me want to vomit. My teeth dug into the leather belt as they pressed the emblem into my arm. My yell was so throaty it hurt, but the pain in my skin overtook everything else at that moment.

I could have sworn the hot iron was on me for minutes, but it had to have been only twenty seconds at most. They placed it onto a wet rag, the steam rising out of the cloth. As my jaw released the belt and the Russian yanked it from my mouth, my vision was clouded with white spots, and soon enough everything went black.

My eyes shot open and my body heaved forward as the sound of a needle hitting the floor rang throughout the cement room. Gasping for air, my eyes darted around the room to take in my surroundings only to soon realize I knew exactly where I was. The chill of the chair's metal constraints was not unfamiliar, but the pain radiating from my gauze-wrapped arm and my torso was. 

My ears focused on the sound of pencils scratching paper before the sound of heavy boots meeting the floor echoed throughout the space. Not being able to turn my head, I held my gaze forward, prepared to meet the face of one of the only people I seemed to remember.

"Well, your beauty sleep was long enough," Dobrow spat as he stepped down towards the machine and me. He grabbed a folder on a little side table, and the light shined on his face in just the right way to where I could see the bags around his eyes. 

"What a little stunt you and him pulled," he said walking toward me, "and now we have to make quite the repair."

"At least he's not dead," I growled, looking into his eyes. They darkened at my statement, and I could tell he didn't want to even give me the satisfaction of agreeing.

"Did you gather any intel? Obviously, you did not kill the man you interrogated for whatever reason."

"No," I answered, not giving up a single piece of information. He didn’t need to know that I barely had anything of substance to give him. Well, except for the fact that the U.S. has successfully replicated the Super Solider Serum. 

Dobrow scoffed, "You're going to tell me that you spent close to six hours on the ground and you didn't gather any useful information?"

"We killed four parties of soldiers on the coastline while approaching the village. He fought the target, the arm got ripped off, and here we are.”

My cheek was met with the back of his hand, not surprised at his physical outburst. "How long were you there before the training wore off?"

With no time to even think of an answer, I was suddenly yanked by my thoughts as Bucky's screams carried into the room. I don't know if he was down the hallway or if it was coming through the vents, but I could hear his voice cracking in agony. Tears pricked in my eyes, thinking of how much pain he was experiencing because of that stupid prosthesis. 

"Ignore that, Milaya," Dobrow grumbled, tilting my head up to look at him. "How long did it take for the training to wear off?"

I sat there slightly puzzled, not fully understanding his question. Training? I can still fight...what is he talking about? My eyebrows furrowed slightly, and I saw his pupils barely dilate in realization, but I knew he wasn’t going to give up that easily

"So we are suddenly back to your quiet stage, hm? Well, let's fix that," he spoke, his tone making the hairs on my arms rise. "I ask questions, you answer."

I swallowed as he stood in front of me, his beady eyes staring down into mine. "What is your name?"

"Y/N," I answered quietly.

"Y/N what?"

I opened my mouth to answer but quickly closed it as I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. I soon realized that I didn't have an answer for him, and a headache started to tickle my brain. All I could think of was the American soldier mouthing the answer to this question, but I couldn’t hear a single thing.

His eyes squinted at my hesitation as a smirk curled his lips at my visible discomfort. He then put his hands behind his back before leaning down to be at my eye level, "where are you from?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain in my head only getting worse as I tried to think of an answer to give Dobrow. Not only did it feel like my brain was melting inside my skull, but I was filled with annoyance and anger toward myself for not being able to answer a simple question.

"When were you born, Milaya? When is your birthday?" 

"Stop..." I whispered as the burning sensation got worse, my nails now digging into my palms as my knuckles turned white.

"Did you go to university?" he asked eagerly. "What is your degree in?"

"Stop it," I said a bit louder, beads of sweat prickling all over my body as every little hair rose.

"What year is it? Where are you right n--"

"Stop!" I screeched, "I don't – I don't know!"

Dobrow stood there smiling as my pain worsened, and the blue veins began to shine through my skin. He only chuckled before walking over to the little side table and tossing the folder down.

"We are in better shape than I thought..." he trailed.

"Fuck you," I spat, my breathing still heavy. Dobrow only smirked at this before walking back to stand in front of me. Bucky's cries and screams rang through the room again.

"Oh, Milaya, just be happy we aren't back at square one, hm?"

I felt myself disassociating from his statement, realizing exactly what was about to happen next. I heard the machine power up, drowning out the yelling as the cranky metal arms moved closer to me. Taking a deep breath, I looked right into Dobrow's eyes as the panels came over my face. 

At some point later, the panels were released, and my throat felt raw. I felt the warm trail of blood dripping from my left ear as my skull throbbed. As the latches on my limbs came undone, I was caught on my way of falling out of the chair by lower-ranking men, one on each side of me as they slung me up by my armpits. 

"Bring the other soldier's notes, I want to compare..." I heard a man say as we crossed the threshold of the room and into the hall.

My right arm felt like it was going to detach itself from my body, but in my current state of semi-consciousness, I couldn't muster the mental energy to fully acknowledge the pain. As my head hung and my feet dragged along the floor, I couldn't even look up, let alone focus my eyes, to figure out where I was being taken.

Going in and out of consciousness, I was hoisted up into some kind of capsule as a needle was stuck in my arm. I rested my head on the metal that was keeping me upright, letting the cold smoke that filled the now-enclosed space enter my lungs as the world stilled. 

A cold breeze danced over my body as my eyes fluttered open, only to be met with the harsh overhead light directly above me. My ears tuned into the light buzzing of a fan, as my eyelids squeezed shut. After a minute or so, I slowly but surely opened my eyes. 

I was on an angled table of some kind -- my feet being supported by the metal bottom yet my arms, legs, and torso were all strapped down tightly. Quickly adjusting to my surroundings, I glance to my right to see another table the same as mine, only with another person strapped to it. 

The man was still asleep, and a few strands of his brown hair fell over to cover his forehead. His left arm was completely replaced by a metal prosthesis, the pink scar tissue contrasting with the silver. I watched as his chest lightly rose up and down, and felt slight jealousy growing inside me that he was still asleep, whoever he was. 

My eyes also caught sight of my own shoulder, our emblem embossed into my skin. The outline was raised, and the scar tissue looked fresh and pink. I shivered at the thought of it, not even recalling when that appeared. All I can remember is the smell of burning flesh, and that alone made my stomach turn. 

Now looking around the room to distract from the thoughts of burning flesh, I grew frustrated at the lack of identifying characteristics. There was not a clock or calendar insight, no desk, or even a light switch. The only item in this blue-tiled room except for me and the sleeping man was a medical table on wheels with a few upside-down office folders next to the wall. 

The one thing that was currently keeping me sane was the small window pane on the door, and the few shadows I saw turning into a hallway that I presume is across the hall. Although, every time I see a shadow, it always comes from the left side, never the right. There must be either a dead end or a room, but either way, no one was going in or out past here.

Some time had passed, and I don't know how much, but the man was still out cold and the shadows had ceased quite a bit ago. Staring at the ceiling, my head suddenly snapped to the door as I heard another heavy door slam shut. Within the minute a young man had walked by the door but quickly walked back and peeked through the window.

Opening the door, his slender frame entered the room. His honey-blonde hair was styled back, and his chiseled face set off something in my head. He looked kind, and as he slowly walked closer with his leather-bound notebook, his cologne filled my nose. Cedarwood and leather.

"Hello," he simply said in English, his lips pulling into a tight smile.

Considering I was strapped onto a table and this man was in a military uniform and not restrained, I was hesitant to answer. But the little neurons in my head were firing off, and this guy looked somewhat familiar. 

"It's alright," he reassured, "I'm just being polite."

"...do I know you?" I asked softly after a minute, not realizing how raspy my voice was. It sounded like it hadn't been used in eons. 

Cracking a smile he stepped closer, quickly glancing at the man before back to me, "I don't know, do you? Think reallll hard."

I tried to hide the pain that overtook my brain as I tried to think of who this man was, and powering through the burning sensation in my temples. His teasing tone dripped off of his words, and his eyes were bright and instigating.

"Could my name be, I don't know, Steve?" he whispered, the throbbing pain getting worse as soon as he spoke. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on soothing the stinging pain that was encapsulating my skull.

"Wh-what are you...?" I stammered, my brain feeling like it was on fire. The name Steve triggered something in my head, but my stomach was twisting. Something wasn't right at all.

Instead of a smile, a smirk curled on his lips, and he took a step closer as his hand came up and held my cheek. "God, you're even more gorgeous than they said."

My blood immediately ran cold, goosebumps decorating my skin at his touch as if they extinguished the flaming pain. I felt my spine shiver, and as I looked into this man's eyes, I saw the ill intent swimming in the blue. "...you're not Steve."

"No, angel, I'm not," he said, his voice gruff as he grabbed my jaw before looking me up and down. "Glad to know where your head's at."

As he was about to say something else, the door swung open, and there stood a more husky man with a thick mustache. My eyes went wide, and the blonde dropped my face and turned his head halfway to look at the man who just entered.

"You're not supposed to be here," he spat, walking over towards us.

"Sorry sir," the blonde stammered. "I saw one of the assets had woken up as I was walking by, and she was wrestling against her restraints."

If my eyes were bullets, there would be holes in the back of the guy's head. His superior with the mustache deadpanned and looked between both him and me, and I could see the gears turning that he knew this guy was lying.

"This one usually knows better when she wakes up," he responded, "the other one, well..."

"Well, you know, I–" he began.

"Shut your mouth," the officer spat. "You know her memory is sharper and we don't need anyone setting her off. Especially you."

"Sir, I was simply attending to a matter at–"

"Just get outta here, Pierce," the man ordered, "go get the damn coffee like you were supposed to."

"Yes, sir," he responded without hesitation, making a beeline for the door. I then made eye contact with the man, and his dead eyes just stared into mine.

"I'll be back to wipe you two in a bit, hang tight," he breathed out as he slammed the door shut behind him, the annoyance radiating even in his absence. 

Somehow knowing exactly what that meant, my stomach turned and danced as sweat pricked every pore on my body. Looking at the man next to me, I envied his sleepy bliss, not knowing that within the next hour at most, we'd be making our way to the brain scrambler together. 

Chapter Text

As Hydra prepped the team for tonight's execution mission, the soldier and I were ordered to spar. We’d just been given instructions for tonight, but there was no real energy in the room. The man I know as Dobrow stood on the wall, his right side being supported by a cane as his wrinkled, squinted eyes observed. Next to him stood a young man called Karpov, and to my understanding, it seemed like he was being trained by the man I somehow knew.

"Again!" his gruff Russian voice yelled, barely echoing throughout the concrete room. Baby hairs were stuck to the side of my face and my forehead from the sweat, and I could feel my cheeks becoming more flushed by the second, the heat contrasting with the chill in the room. The soldier across from me recalibrated his cybernetic arm, his long hair also stuck to his sweaty face.

“Tired yet, Krasnaya?” I taunted, my breathing slightly labored. The corners of his mouth ticked up in the quickest, subtle smile.

“Oh, Ognyonok, you wish,” he mumbled.

We began to circle each other again, and all I could think about was how to make this enjoyable. It felt like we were both just going through the motions, too used to each other’s rhythm. His strikes were predictable, and mine, I’m sure, were just as easy for him to anticipate. As his steely blue eyes burned into mine, I felt my lips curl up into a smirk as I saw the lightbulb go off in his head. 

His metal arm swung at me at full speed, and I folded back to avoid it. As we threw punches and blocked each other, I could tell we became equally bored with this routine within minutes. I couldn't explain it, but I felt like my body was on autopilot as I fought him. 

Putting the sparring on the back burner, I tried to think about how to spice this up. I quickly decided to go for a basic kick to his side. He immediately grabbed my leg and attempted to twist it, but since his hand was locked on my leg, I was able to swing my body up onto his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his head. 

My sparring partner was no doubt surprised, and I tightened my grip around his head and neck with my thighs. As my elbows were coming down on the crown of his head at full force, I twisted again to bring myself down to the ground, taking him with me. Our bodies slammed against the concrete floor, and I could feel the anger radiating off of him. His growl of frustration vibrated through me, and I saw his flesh hand shoot out toward my hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking me forward.

He now had his flesh hand on my throat as he straddled me, all of his body weight holding me down. Our eyes locked, and as I looked up at his face, which his damp hair encapsulated, I felt my abdomen flutter. I saw his blue eyes quickly glance at my lips, and his hand tightened ever so slightly around my neck as my breath hitched. 

I knew I wasn't getting out of this one, and part of me didn't want to, but as a smirk curled my lips again, I tapped my free hand against the cold floor twice. The soldier’s grip immediately loosened, his hand pulling away from my throat as our labored breathing filled the space. Suddenly, a slow clap came from the side of the room, and both of our heads snapped in that direction.

"I'm impressed...that was new, Milaya," Dobrow said, his eyes measuring with a scale of approval. "That will be all for today. Vadim, make sure you note that all down." 

As he spoke, a smaller man, maybe in his early twenties, nodded and kept writing in the red leather booklet. My jaw clenched at the sight as if I wasn’t already opposed to being a subject of notetaking, to begin with, his scribbling feeling intrusive. 

I looked up at my partner who averted eye contact as he got off me. Holding out his flesh hand to help me off the ground, I took it as he yanked me up, our hands fitting together perfectly. As he released my hand, his fingers grazed my entire palm, and his brows furrowed. Turning over my hand so it was palm up, he stared down at the scars that lined the underside of my knuckles. His eyes lingered on the scars there—the raised, uneven lines running across my skin. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze. As his thumb softly traced over the marks, I froze.

I blinked, and I was suddenly in a forest. To my right was an opening with a valley below, mist lingering in the morning sun, and my partner stood still before me. His hair was neatly styled and he looked younger — different. His navy jacket fit perfectly, and his jaw was expertly clean-shaven. He was staring at my hand, the scars in his focus, his expression unreadable, as his two flesh hands cradled mine.

"Where are these from?" he asked, concerned, looking between me and the uneven skin. I was frozen in place as I stared at him, and one eyebrow was now raised in question,

"Doll, you alright?" he asked, his tone lighter. All the air exited my lungs as I yanked my hand back and blinked, now back in the concrete room. Krasnaya was still standing in front of me, his hands still extended from where he was holding mine just seconds ago. 

He had the same expression as me now, his eyes crazed in disbelief as we both were searching for answers within each other. Looking down at my hands, I ran my fingers over my scars, swallowing hard out of discomfort as the cerulean blue glow disappeared under my skin. 

"I want the leather gloves," I said in Russian, stepping back from him and turning toward the wall lined with officers.

Dobrow was already halfway to the door as his old body inched its way there, but Karpov stared at me for at least a minute before turning to a lower-ranking man beside him.

"Have the gloves ready for when they leave," he said lowly, glaring at me before following Dobrow out of the room.

With that, I made sure not to look at the man as I felt his eyes burning holes into me. I followed the other officers out of the room and down the hall where the team was getting prepped, geared up, and ready for takeoff.

The only sounds filling the narrow corridor were the repetitive boots on the ground and the rustling of uniform fabrics. From six feet behind me, I felt my sparring partner’s eyes targeting the back of my head. I can’t tell if he took offense to me pulling away, or if his frustration is manifesting from being as confused as I am. 

As we soared through the night sky, the aircraft was silent except for the low hum of the engine. My partner and I sat beside each other, the only other person in the plane was the pilot. Every so often we readjusted our gear, either me fiddling with my gloves or him tightening and untightening his thigh holsters. 

Every time I adjusted the velcro of the gloves, his eyes darted from my palms to my face, followed by a slight huff. Annoyed, I moved my arm back to where it was with some force, my shoulder hitting him and my elbow jabbing his side. If he gives attitude for no reason, then so will I. 

His head snapped to me, his eyes wild with anger. I cocked an eyebrow up at him, silently asking what his problem was. His lips went into a thin line, followed by a light shake of his head. 

I let out a small, annoyed chuckle. There’s no reason for him to act like this, especially before a mission. Picking up the folder beside me, I skimmed over the notes that Dobrow and Karpov had given us. 

This mission was simply to obtain intel, the soldier and I being the reinforced backup for a group  I overheard be referred to as “The Death Squad” before departure. The group of five was made up of some of Hydra’s most elite killers, coming from different bases all over the world.

Most details of the mission were spared from our document, but one of them was to cut all power, one was to obtain blueprints on the fifth level of the building, and everyone else was to kill anyone in the way. After, we were to return to the rendezvous point as quickly as possible, where two aircraft would be waiting for us.

I ran my finger across the Russian Cyrillic, the indented paper from the pen feeling nice. As I went to flip the page over, my eye caught the corner of the paper. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if not for my sharpened vision, but whatever was written there in pencil had been erased. I brought the paper a little closer and felt my partner’s stare as I did so, but it seemed like someone had erased “10/1987.” My eyebrows creased at the discovery, curious as to why, what seemed to be a date, was erased. Was there significance, or—

“Get ready to drop. Two minutes,” the pilot spat in Russian, snapping me from my thoughts. I tossed the folder down as we both rose from the bench, and my partner put on the parachute before sliding the door open. I silently touched every weapon strapped to my body to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything. 

He was waiting for me, and his blue eyes pierced through mine. Looking up at him, there was something, something I couldn’t place, that relaxed me. So, as annoyed as I was at the man, I couldn’t help the natural feeling of calmness that seeped into me as he moved his body behind mine to secure us together.

My breath hitched as I felt his torso flush against my back, his muscles making themselves known. With my hair braided, I felt his light breathing on the back of my neck as he buckled and tightened my harness to secure it with his own. There was something about watching his fingers maneuver the fabric, studying each movement, and noticing each little visible scar that decorated his skin. Goosebumps littered my body, and as the pilot began to count down from ten, Krasnaya’s right arm wrapped around my torso. 

“Jumping in three, two…” he whispered as his fingers pressed into me, his breath hot on my skin. Without saying the last number, he leaned us out of the plane, the two of us soaring toward the ground. He pulled the parachute not too long after, but I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. 

I debated saying something, and I don’t know what, but something. We hit the ground somewhat steadily, enough where we didn’t fall, but we would have if he hadn’t held on to me with his strong grip to keep our balance. My stomach twisted as his fingers loosened my harness before he unhooked us. 

Stepping away from him, I watched as he yanked the parachute to roll it up before chucking it near some bushes. After tossing the newly fallen yellow and orange leaves around the area to camouflage, his eyes met mine as he stood up like he knew I was locked in on him.

“What?” he asked, walking closer to me as I looked between the ground and him. I couldn’t stop thinking about earlier today, then how pissy he was on the way over, compared to just minutes ago. I know I need to focus on the mission, but if I don’t ask him, my focus is out of the question. 

As I was about to look up at him, his pointer finger lightly pushed my chin up. My breath hitched in my throat as we locked eyes. His icy blues danced over my face, looking for any answers they could. I swallowed hard as I tried to wrangle my thoughts as his tongue anxiously wet his lips.

“Did you see something today? Before we left for the mission?” I asked, my brows furrowing, feeling slightly desperate for him to say yes.

“What are you talking about?” he answered, his voice now more stern.

“When you noticed the scars on my palms,” I answered, “did you see something…something that looked real but couldn’t have been?”

I watched him swallow, looking down before back up at me. “I was just worried, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Worried?”

The regret radiated from him at the realization of his expressive slip, his pupils dilating in a millisecond before his brows furrowed. He exhaled before his hands met his hips and his line of sight was at the ground. “Yes, just worried.”

“So you didn’t see anything? At all?”

“You ripped your hands away from me, so quickly, for no reason,” he replied quickly, looking back up to me. “I was worried and–”

“God, I am going insane–” I groaned as my hands ran down my face.

“You’re not going insane for seeing me–”

“So you know what I saw?” I emphasized, arms now at my side, eyebrows raised. He stepped closer, now annoyed that I raised my voice, yet remained silent. “Krasnaya?” 

A flicker of emotion crossed his face before he spoke again, his tone tighter and colder. “You were locked in some trance as soon as I touched you. What was I supposed to think?”

“No. No, you wouldn’t know unless something similar happened to you and I didn’t notice.”

His usual mask of detachment slipped momentarily, his brows furrowing in a way that didn’t belong to him. The words were out before he could stop them. “And what if it did? What if something similar happened, and I saw something, and you just didn’t notice?” he said, sharp but strained.

We stood there silently. The only noise around us was the wind ruffling the dead leaves trying their best to cling to their branches.

“I don’t—god, it’s like I know you, but I don’t, I don’t—” I ran my hands over my face, pacing in place, my head spinning.

“I didn’t say I didn’t know you–”

“But how could we not know each other?! You said you were worried about me, and for what? What inside your brain told you to worry about me?”

“I just was, I don’t know,” he answered, annoyance coating his words as he turned away. I ran my hands over my face again, questions spinning around my head.

“You were in a mood the minute I pulled away from you in the gym. You sulked all night until we had to jump out of that plane. Why–”

“Do you not realize what happens when we fight?! Like we did earlier today?!” he boomed, emotions flooding his face as he turned back toward me, my jaw snapping shut. “What happens when we inevitably end up tangled on that concrete floor?! How you always know my next move, and I know yours?!” 

He was now inches from me, and all I could do was look up at him, my mouth slightly agape, as he again searched my face for answers. My partner exhaled as he looked away from me, waiting a few moments as he stared into the dark forest before meeting my eyes again.

“I don’t have a single clue why I was worried, Ognyonok…but I was,” he shared calmly as I stood there, stunned and silent. “But you can’t stand here and tell me you don’t realize anything because that would be a goddamn lie.” 

All I could do was look into this man’s eyes as we stood there in the forest, my heart beating through my jacket. My temples began to burn slightly as I noticed the pain and confusion he attempted to mask. My hand found his face, my thumb lightly brushing his stubbly cheek and jaw. As I was about to speak, we both heard the rustling of leaves, and my gun was immediately out of my holster and pointing toward the sound.

Multiple figures shifted a few yards away, and he visibly relaxed before putting his hand on mine to lower the gun. 

“It's just them. Let's get moving,” he said lowly. His hand slowly left mine, and as I put my gun away and started walking toward our five other team members, I ached for his touch as the cold air breezed against my hand. 

We had been walking for about three miles at this point, the seven of us loosely walking together as we got closer to the target. My partner was at the back of the group and I was at the front, almost as if we were the collateral for anything that got in the team’s way.

I glanced behind me, seeing everyone spaced out a few yards apart. Krasnaya’s brows were furrowed, annoyance draping his features. I think he felt my gaze because as soon as I lingered a second too long, his eyes snapped up and locked with mine. Casually turning around, I continued on the path silently, the slight embarrassment quickly dissipating.

His mood from the plane had since returned, and for some reason, all I wanted was to be near him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him after sparring, and the weird vision; the way he held my hands, and how he brushed his thumbs over the rough skin. It all felt too familiar. From the concern in his eyes to the dapper young man standing in a forest, it all just made my temples tingle with a nonstop burning sensation. 

Making our way to the first checkpoint, I stopped and waited for everyone to catch up. We stood atop a hill, and down below was a large building most likely outlined with an electric fence. Towers were on the roof, its satellites blinking blue. 

“Alright, you all read the briefing,” Josef stated. “I obtain blueprints, Anton kills power, and you all kill anyone in our way. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, and we continued our journey down to the edge of the fence. Anton broke off and went toward the transformer about 30 yards away, and we patiently waited for him to work his magic as he was a trained demolition expert. A woman kicked some wet leaves at the base of the chain link fence, and the little sizzling sounds filled the air as a warning. 

A few minutes had passed, and as three flashes from a compact mirror met our vision, she kicked leaves at it again. With the only sound being the rustling of the dead leaves, another man pulled wire cutters from one of his cargo pockets and got to work. 

As soon as Anton returned to the group, the one with the wire cutters was bending the fence to allow us entry. Josef stood at the fence as everyone walked in, and as I was about to enter, his gun blocked the opening, stopping me from walking through. 

“Guard the entrance,” he spat. “When you see the flare, one of you dogs can come. Now stay.”

I glared at him, fully knowing that this was not a direct order from Dobrow or Karpov, but a preferential choice made by him. The soldier stood behind me, and as the Death Squad walked toward the building, we both stood on either side of the hole that had been cut. 

As the minutes passed, the tension grew. The distant bullet sounds and screams echoed in the night, but for us, it was directly silent. I kept looking over, fully knowing he was still frustrated about earlier. 

“Have you decided on saying something to me yet or are you just going to keep stealing glances?” he asked. My head snapped to him as he kept his gaze straight ahead. “You’ve done it about six times in the past twenty minutes.”

“Your broodiness can be felt from over here, so I’m still debating if I want to deal with that,” I chirped. His head turned to me, a glare etched into his face. We stood there in silence for a bit longer before I turned toward him,

“Everything you said earlier…it's not that I don’t realize it,” I said, catching his attention as he looked over at me, “it’s that I don’t know what to do about it.”

“And you think I do?” he retorted almost instantly.

“No, I don’t,” I snapped, regrettably. “From what I can tell, if you did know, you would’ve done something about it by now.” 

The man squinted at me as he tilted his head slightly, but for once, I couldn’t read him. He slowly walked over, his broad shoulders slightly swaying with each step. As he stood in front of me, I couldn’t stop my heart from getting caught in my throat as I looked up at him. The night’s natural luminance created a halo behind him, his dark hair blending in with the sky as his icy blue eyes stared down at me. 

“And what do you think I would’ve done?” he asked, his voice low and curious. 

“Depends on what you wanted from me,” I answered as he clenched his jaw. Letting his gun fall to his side, still attached due to the strap across his torso, he stepped closer to leave mere inches between us. His face went from hard and annoyed to hard and caring, obviously not letting his guard down even if he wanted to. 

My heart was banging against my chest like it was trying to break out. Out of my peripheral, a light shot into the sky, fizzing as it arched into the darkness. Our heads snapped to it, and I could’ve sworn I saw the soldier’s face fall before quickly becoming covered with a wall of no emotion.

“I got it,” he said. “Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra,” I mumbled. Alone in the darkness, I watched him walk through the hole in the fence, knowing that the next time I’d see him was right before boarding a stealth plane to return to Mother Russia and get our brains scrambled.