Chapter Text
New York, Spring 1943
The steam from the train washed over you, the wheels hissing and they slowed to a stop. Uniform-clad men poured out of cars. The air was thick with coal smoke and metal, but it wasn’t the heat that made your cheeks flush—it was the sight of the man walking toward you in crisp military greens, his cap slightly askew, his smile unmistakable even at a distance.
A smile bloomed on your face, nearly painful, as tears of happiness pricked your eyes at the sight of him.
“There’s my girl,” Bucky exclaimed with a smile, discarding his duffle on the ground and sweeping you into his arms.
“James,” you breathed into the soft skin on his neck, his arms tight around your waist, pulling you even closer. You could feel the buttons from his uniform pressed against your stomach. His grip was stronger, his shoulders firmer than the last time you hugged him. “I missed you so much,” you whispered.
Bucky pulled away slightly, looking intently at your face. “Me too Sweetheart,” he spoke with a silly grin on his face. His eyes sweeping over you, his hands gripping your hands, trembling like he was barely containing his joy.
He suddenly leaned down and kissed you long and hard, with all the desperation of ten weeks ago when you had stood on this same platform with tear-stained cheeks, watching him depart for training at Fort McCoy.
You had only been together a few weeks at that point, but you had loved Bucky since Steve had first brought him home one day during grade school. Bucky had rescued poor Steve from becoming the punching bag of another student and the two became quick friends. Steve was what you would call scrawny, and you were grateful Bucky stuck around to keep an eye on him when you couldn’t.
From that day on, Bucky was around at you and Steve’s apartment more often than not. He was always nice to you, making sure you could tag along to whatever the two boys had planned for any given day. Even bringing meals over after your mother had passed.
It wasn’t hard for you to quickly develop a schoolgirl crush on your older brother’s best friend. For years you had resigned it to be unrequited as Bucky treated you only as a sister. Being as handsome as he was, he regularly brought dates on your Friday night adventures. However, none of them seemed to last more than a few weeks at most. You once overheard one of them snap to Bucky that they didn’t like that another girl was along on their dates. You had been embarrassed, offering to stay home the next week. Bucky shook his head, simply responding “why would I go out without my best girl”? He never called on that girl for another date after that night.
You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly, but something had changed when Bucky got his draft papers. The three of you began spending nearly every minute you could together, the reality setting in that the United States was entering the War. Steve routinely attempted to enlist, being denied each time for health reasons. You had begun taking classes at night for the nursing corps but wouldn’t be done for another 10 months.
After one night of dancing, Steve had left the two of you at the dance floor, abandoning the date Bucky had tried to set him up with. As the two of you searched for him, you ended up at the pier, overlooking the harbor.
The night breeze off the harbor had been sharp, smelling of salt and oil. It tugged at your dress hem and made you shiver, but your arm burned where it pressed against Bucky’s; solid and warm beside you as the lights from docked ships blinked across the water.
Without warning, Bucky had simply leaned over and kissed you.
You were shocked at first unable to process the kiss. Bucky began stumbling on his words, apologizing and saying that it was a stupid mistake on his part. After a few seconds of him stumbling over his words, you cut him off with a kiss in return. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that for years” you had told him. He had laughed, telling you that he had been stupid for not confessing to you sooner, he had thought you just looked at him as a brother. Oh the irony. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
The weeks that followed leading up to Bucky’s departure had been wonderful. Not much had changed, Bucky still came over to see you and Steve every day or night. But now your heart didn’t ache when he left each night. You knew he was finally yours.
On nights Steve had work, Bucky would take you on dates, sometimes to the movies or to the soda fountain. Some nights you had just stayed in the apartment talking.
It was perfect.
There was only one issue. The two of you had not gotten around to telling Steve.
It’s not that you intentionally were trying to hide, the two of you just didn’t want anything to change between your trio when there were only a few weeks before Bucky had to leave. And frankly, you could tell Bucky was nervous about telling his best friend that he had been going out with his little sister. One memorable night, Bucky had resorted to climbing down the old fire escape after Steve got out of work earlier than expected. You could barely hold in laughter as your brother walked in the front door unaware of his best friend struggling to climb down the window.
In present day, your lips burned at finally being able to touch his after so long apart. A few whistles from the other side of the train tracks made Bucky pull away. “Is that who you were writin’ all those love letters to Sarg?” a grinning soldier called out, stepping down from the train with his cap pushed back and a cigarette tucked behind one ear.
Your lover did not seem bothered by the interruption, winding an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side and grinning at the other man. “Well at least I had someone else to write to besides my sister” Bucky jeered back.
The other man laughed, waving off the jab as he stood next to who appeared to be his grandmother. “Darling, I’ll have you know that Sarg here, was like a lovesick puppy, writin’ them letter after letter, in fact one time I swear I saw him shed a few te....
“Aren’t you about to miss your train to Virginia, Shoot? Bucky interrupted the man before he could reveal anything too embarrassing. Your cheeks were impossibly hot, thinking of Bucky enduring teasing on your behalf by the other infantrymen.
“Aw fine, I’ll leave you to your lady Sarg, see you in Europe” Shoot said giving one last friendly wave before linking his arm with his grandmother’s and walking toward the southbound departure platform.
Bucky immediately turned back to you grinning boyishly. You smiled back happy that he was finally back, and happy he still felt the same as he did in the weeks before he departed for training. Despite his letters filled with loving adorations, you still had to pinch yourself to believe he was your sweetheart. He was yours; you were his.
Finally alone, Bucky gave you one last peck on the cheek before stooping down to grab his worn duffle from where it had been discarded on the ground. As the two of you stepped out into the fading afternoon light, the city felt somehow brighter now that Bucky was home.
“You made it home just in time for the Stark Expo tonight,” you said. “I think it would be fun for us all to go. You, me, Steve, make a night of it and go dancing afterwards like old times”.
Bucky grinned. “Yeah? That sounds swell Sweetheart.” He bumped your shoulder lightly. “Maybe you ask one of your friends to come, we could find a girl for Steve so I could steal you away for a few dances tonight?” He winked at you. The butterflies in your stomach lurched.
Maybe you could ask Susie from your nursing classes to come. She was nice enough, but most girls often didn’t look beyond Steve’s small stature.
You smiled, thinking about the prospective night. But behind the happiness was a flicker of nerves.
Steve still didn’t know. There was only so long you could keep sidelong glances and stolen touches from him.
Still, Bucky was home now, and the thought of the War was looming as you gave a sidelong glance to the army greens Bucky wore.
For tonight, it was enough just to be together.
Notes:
Hi everyone! Thanks for reading, will try to update soon!
Chapter Text
Steve was backed into the dead-end alley behind the theater by the heckler he had chastised for being disrespectful to the servicemen. He had counted three punches to his face in just a few seconds and hadn’t been quick enough to land any on his opponent.
“Haven’t you about had enough?” the man called at Steve, landing another punch that sent Steve flying into the metal trash bins that bookended the alleyway. The garbage reeked, but Steve wasn’t going to back down all he could think about were the men overseas risking their lives and his best friend Bucky, who had been away at basic training the last 10 weeks. Steve would’ve gone too if the enlistment center would just let him.
Perhaps he picked a fight with the man because he had just been rejected for service again. This was Steve’s fourth time being denied, and he had resorted to using fake birthplaces to try to get around the blacklist.
A squelch of smelly liquid sopped into his shoe as he stood up, raising his fists up at his opponent. But even Steve had to admit that he looked nowhere close to intimidating.
“You just don’t know when to give up do you?” the man jeered. Winding his bruised fist back to take another swing.
“I could do this all day” replied Steve, hoping to sound strong. He would not be a coward.
Shifting on his feet, he threw all his body weight into his first punch. Unfortunately for him, it was not at the speed her imagined it would be. The man easily dodged Steve’s fist, swiftly knocking him back down alongside the discarded trash.
Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw the man be ripped backwards. “Hey, pick on someone your own size!” a familiar voice yelled. Bucky now stood firmly between the two of them, wearing his military greens, he looked much more grown up chastising a little kid for school yard bullying.
After Bucky landed one solid punch, the man realized he was outmatched and took off, hurrying down the busy New York street.
“You know sometimes I think you like getting punched,” his friend reprimanded him, offering a hand.
“I had him on the ropes,” Steve bantered back.
Looking down to where Steve had dropped his wallet, Bucky plucked Steve’s rejection card from the front slot. “You know it is illegal to lie on your enlistment forms,” he said, eyebrow raised.
Steve wiped a spot of blood from his face, examining his best friend now much more built like an army man from the last time he saw him. These past ten weeks had changed his friend into a stronger, more capable version of himself. He looked older. Steve’s mind flickered to a thought of his sister, how she would react to Buck’s new look. Although she had never admitted it, Steve knew Y/n had always had a soft spot in her heart for his best friend.
“Did you get your orders?” Steve asked pointedly, nodding toward Bucky’s crisp uniform.
“The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes,” Bucky said, lifting his chin just slightly. “Shipping out to England. First thing tomorrow.”
Steve’s heart dropped. One night. That’s all they had. And once again, he’d be left behind. They had always done everything together, told each other everything since meeting in grade school.
Bucky must’ve noticed Steve’s downtrodden look, quickly pulling him in for a hug. Steve caught a faint whiff of something. Floral, maybe? Steve took note of the scent lingering on his friend, briefly wondering if Bucky had met a girl while away.
“C’mon, man, we gotta’ get you cleaned up. You, me and Y/n are going out tonight,” Bucky stated matter a factly as they exited the alley, emerging onto the busy street filled with cars whizzing by and pedestrians crossing every which way. A small smile graced his fiend’s face, he was obviously excited about that night’s destination.
“Why, where are we going?” Steve questioned his friend, puzzled by his widening grin. Yeah something was definitely new with Bucky. His friend then thrust a paper into Steve’s hands.
“The Future” Bucky told him.
The Expo
The bright lights of the Stark Expo glittered against the darkening evening sky, creating a dome of excitement around the stage. Giant exhibits towered over the spectators as a band played loudly from the stage. People milled around, gasping at all the futuristic gizmos on display, everything from dish-cleaning machines to robotic personal assistants.
Steve trailed a step behind Bucky and Y/n, watching them laugh at a display of self-tying shoes. He smiled faintly at them, but his chest still ached as he thought about his latest enlistment rejection. They had passed the local enlistment center on the way over from his apartment, perhaps he could talk to someone there tonight.
“I gotta’ admit,” Bucky’s voice broke through Steve’s thoughts. “Stark may be a crazy man, but he’s a crazy man who puts on a show,” Bucky smiled at Steve but knew his friend had something else on his mind.
“There is no way he has actually built a car that flies,” Y/n commented, eyes sparking as she looked toward Bucky and Steve. “You alright there Steve?” she asked smiling at him.
Steve nodded, adjusting his coat. “Just takin’ it all in.”
Bucky looped an arm around his shoulder. “Maybe you’ll be drivin’ one of those flying cars over in Europe when you make it over there.” Bucky joked slightly. Y/n laughed but still held a concerned look at Steve.
Steve huffed a laugh, but his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. The trio moved closed to the stage, wedging their way into a spot with a view of a sheet-clad object sitting on the stage.
He glanced at the crowd around him, watching everyone’s bright faces. Not a care in the world. Steve then glanced at Bucky, thinking about him going off to war tomorrow, a world completely different than this waiting. He looked back at the illuminated stage, trying to push the ache from his mind.
In was in that moment that out of the corner of his eye, he caught you brushing something off Bucky’s lapel, a piece of lint or something had gotten caught in the rough fabric. It was something he hadn’t noticed until he saw Y/n with ease reach over and pluck it off his shirt. The gesture looked natural, like you hadn’t even thought about what you were doing.
He looked away, not wanting to look like he was staring. Fanfare blasted through the stage’s speakers a moment later interrupting Steve’s thoughts before he could think too hard about it.
Howard Stark theatrically was lifted on a platform next to the mysterious object on stage, pointing toward to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! Behold the future!”
The sheet was dramatically ripped away, revealing a sleek silver automobile underneath. To Steve, it didn’t look much different than the regular cars on the street. That was, until it began to lift in the air. On stage, Stark laughed maniacally at his contraption.
Steve could hear your breath hitch “wow,” you exclaimed breathlessly. Your hand was raised, bumping it into Bucky’s arm excitedly.
“Holy shit,” he caught Bucky say with a laugh, his eyes glancing over to Steve, sharing an identical look of wonder.
After a weightless moment, the car’s exhaust sputtered, and it haphazardly came crashing back down to the stage. The audience shared a laugh. Stark looked a bit unenthused but ever the showman, snaped a grin back on his face. “Well folks as you can see, this is still the prototype. In less than 10 years everyone will be driving in the sky!”
Applause rippled through the crowd, but Steve barely heard it. He was watching Bucky and Y/n again, the way they leaned toward each other when they laughed, how naturally your hand lingered on his sleeve. Perhaps it was nothing, Steve’s heart wasn’t in the night, and he should chock it up to both you and Bucky trying to have a fun last night with the three of them all together.
Bucky caught Steve’s eye then, his grin faltering just a bit, as if he could read his thoughts. He took a step forward and clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and your hand falling away from him.
“Alright, enough of seeing future for one night,” Bucky said, raising his voice over the crowd. “How about we go dancing?”
You shook your head in agreement, but Steve hesitated. “I don’t know…”
“C’mon, don’t make me drag you,” Bucky said, already steering him through the crowd with you close behind. “It’s our last night together, pal. Let’s make it a good one.”
“My friend Susie said she would meet us there for a few songs” you jumped in, giving Steve pleading eyes. “She’s really nice Stevie, I think you would like her,”
The offer was genuine. But Steve’s hand brushed the enlistment rejection letter folded in his coat pocket, and something inside him turned. “You two go ahead,” he said, his voice light but firm. “I think I’m gonna walk for a bit.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow like he could tell where Steve’s mind was truly at. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded, offering a small smile to his friend. “You should enjoy your last night in town.” And he meant it.
The air stilled in between the two best friends. Steve caught your glance over Bucky’s shoulder, and you gave him a sad smile. They spoke like it was a normal night, but Buck was leaving tomorrow. They all knew that. This could be a goodbye.
“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky told Steve, shaking his head as he began walking backwards to stand next to you.
Steve laughed slightly, smiling at his friend. “How can I, you’re taking all the stupid with you.” The three of you laughed at Steve’s jest. Just like old times.
You stepped forward hugging your brother. “Be safe,” you said lingering a few seconds longer than normal, prolonging the moment between the three of you.
Once you broke away and stepped back, Steve glanced at the two of you. “Take care of her,” he said to Bucky, his voice low and sincere. He had no reason to worry; Bucky had been family to the two of you for over a decade. “And make sure she gets home safe.”
“I always do,” Bucky promised, his tone equally steady, but somehow the exchange felt like it held more weight than before.
With a final wave, they turned and walked away into the swell of people. Steve turned in the opposite direction, just missing how Bucky reached down and pulled your hand into his, leading you safely into the crowd.
Steve slipped his hands into his coat pockets and set off down the street, walking straight into the enlistment office.
Later that night
It was nearly 11pm when Steve got home. He climbed the stairs to the second story, unlocking the worn door to reveal a dark apartment. No light spilled from under your door, no shoes by the mat. You weren’t home yet.
He didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights, only flicked on the small lamp near the window, casting a soft golden glow over the room.
Steve took of his coat, gingerly pulling the enlistment acceptance card from his pocket. 1A had been his designation. He felt pride bloom in his chest thinking back to what Dr. Erskine had told him about the role he had in mind for Steve. The older man had been vague in his words but stressed the importance of picking the right candidate. But Steve didn’t need all the details. All he needed was the chance to fight. No longer would he sit on the sidelines while other men marched off to defend their country.
His mind wandered to you, thinking about what your reaction would be. Probably worried and concerned. Steve had felt bad as an older brother that you spent so much time worrying about him.
The small apartment the two of you shared was modest in size, but the living room did have a fireplace, and much to your liking, a mantle. Steve gazed at the photos you had stuck there. Pictures of your Ma and the two of you at various ages; a birthday where Steve’s ears were too big, and your smile had been missing front teeth.
Bucky made an appearance in a few, cementing him as forever part of your family. He gazed at one in particular taken just before Bucky had left for training. The three of you were sitting in a booth at a bar, your arms around each other’s shoulders laughing about something Buck had said.
In the dim light, Steve smiled faintly, his thumb brushing the corner of the frame. You looked so happy. So did Bucky. And him too, he guessed. Frozen in time. Now everything was changing. Steve hoped it would be for the better.
A distant sound emanated from the window into the darkness of the apartment, catching Steve’s attention. He gazed toward the opening, feeling the soft cool breeze glide in alongside the people he heard laughing outside.
He watched as the two of you strode up the alleyway, illuminated only by the streetlights outside. From the pair’s demeanor, nobody would’ve guessed that Buck was shipping off to war tomorrow morning, unknown when to return.
The two of you had your arms linked and were walking slowly together. Steve’s mind flashed back to the moment he witnessed at the expo. Could his suspicions be correct?
A moment later Steve’s held his breath. The two of you stopped, taking a moment in the quiet night air. He couldn’t hear what you were saying to each other. Unable to look away, he watched as Bucky’s hand came up to cup your cheek and pressed his lips to your own, lingering for a few moments.
Steve quickly turned away, not wanting to intrude on your private moment. It had been you. Although Steve had begun to sense something, he had chocked it up to Bucky’s return and quickly approaching departure. That you both just wanted to spend one last carefree night all together. Steve glanced back at the photograph on the mantle of the three of you laughing. The closer he looked the more he noticed. Bucky’s arm had been around Steve’s shoulders but instead curled tightly around your waist. The look in your eyed told much more as Steve realized you weren’t just laughing but gazing up at his best friend with wonderous affection. The look of love perhaps.
His heart lurched at the realization. The two of you had been together even before Bucky had left for training. The photo now confirmed it for Steve.
He sank into the old velvet armchair in the corner, the one with springs poking out and let out a long, quiet sigh.
He should’ve been angry, he should’ve felt hurt by the deception. His best friend was outside kissing his little sister and had been kissing her for who knows how long. Bucky hadn’t asked permission, hadn’t even hinted. He hadn’t had the gall to let Steve know they were dating and appeared to be going steady. And you, sweet as you were, had kept it all secret.
But something in him couldn’t bring himself to be angry. When he thought of you, his wonderful, caring, intelligent sister, the only person he trusted with her other than himself was James Buchanan Barnes. It was always Bucky, would always be him. He had always been there for the Rogers siblings, whether to celebrate or to grieve.
For now, he would let the two of you have your secret. Steve would let you and Bucky tell him on your terms. A time would come for Steve to play the role of protective big brother.
Steve closed his eyes, feeling the developments of the day settling in his mind. Tomorrow would bring big changes for all of you.
Down on the Street
The excitement of the night was still palpable in the air between the two of you had Bucky led you by the hand out of the dance hall. The big band music still played behind you, making you want to rush back inside and continue having Bucky spin you around. Maybe, just maybe if you continued dancing the night would never have to end.
It was a short walk back to your apartment, but you could tell that Bucky was taking it slow, creeping toward the moment he would have to let you go.
You trade memories from the past, both of you laughing wildly as you zigzagged the streets of New York. He told you about the time he and Steve had to escape a neighbor’s wrath after accidently throwing a football through his window. Your brother had tried to climb up the fire escape and retrieve it, only to stumble into the man’s smoking break, incriminating them instantly. You told him about the time the three of you ended up capsizing a rental canoe, all of you becoming drenched head to toe. Bucky had carried your heels on the walk home as the wet leather had been more painful than walking barefoot home.
You’d heard these stories a dozen times before, but you still howled with laughter like it was the first.
Your laughter dimmed to quiet giggles as you turned down the alleyway, the entrance to your apartment now visible.
Bucky slowed the two of you to a stop, pausing your slow march home.
“I don’t want this night to end,” Bucky murmured smiling down at you and brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. The streetlights buzzed faintly above you, but the world felt still.
You wanted to ask him to stay. To hold you all night. But you knew Steve would be home, and you knew it wouldn’t be proper.
Bucky’s hand came to rest on your cheek, fingers twisting into your hair. You reached up and grabbed his arm. So warm and familiar. You briefly closed your eyes, just taking in this moment in the silence, smiling at just being here together.
Then suddenly, Bucky leaned forward, pulling your face to his and kissing you. It wasn’t just a peck but a good and proper kiss. You kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, smiling into it. Gosh how could you ever get bored of kissing him.
Pulling away, Bucky briefly leaned his forehead against yours, before pulling back and looking intently into your eyes. So many words were behind his eyes, so many things you both wanted to do. So little time before he had to leave. Your breath hitched painfully as reality really set in that this was it. You had to say goodbye without any semblance of when a reunion would happen.
“Y/n” he breathed, voice cracking like he was nervous to speak. “I love you” he breathed, quiet but firm. The words knocked the breath from your lungs.
“James,” you began, but Bucky cut you off.
“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you before now. Perhaps I have loved you since the first time I set my eyes on you, I just didn’t know what love felt like until I had to go away.” Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. You wanted to pull him into a hug and never let go. Tell him that he didn’t have to apologize, that you loved him too.
You pulled him down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, grabbing his hand in yours. “I love you James, I always have,”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For all the time we should’ve had. For all the years lost, for the times I went out with other girls when I should’ve been with you.” He had a glimmer of tears in his eyes now, you could see the pain in his words, the regret that he had to leave you after so little time being together. Actually together. “I was a coward. Hell, I’m still being a coward, I haven’t even told Steve, my best friend, that I’m in love with his sister,”
You grimaced. That was something you were complicit in as well. But the two of you got so caught up in the beginnings of your new relationship and didn’t want anything to burst your newfound love affair bubble.
“I promise I’ll tell him” Bucky said. He spoke it like it was simply about their new relationship, but it was clear Bucky spoke it with other, deeper intentions in mind. He didn’t know when but the next time he saw Steve, he would tell him. “And Y/n,” a single tear fell from his eyes, to which you reached up and swiped away with your thumb, cupping his cheek with your palm. His pulse rapidly beating under your fingers.
“Y/n I want to tell you one more thing, if I come home from the war,”
“When you come home James, promise me” you cut him off correcting his words. You refused to entertain any other possibility.
He smiled solemnly at you, trying to force out the words you wanted so badly for him to speak. To promise you. “When I come home from the war, you and I, we....” Bucky stuttered the words. “aw hell this isn’t how it is supposed to be,” he whispered painfully.
“Tell me when you come home,” you said firmly, shaking your head as if that would keep your own tears from falling but one escaped, nonetheless.
He looked at you, truly looked at you bathed in the streetlamp’s golden light. In his mind he knew it was true that he would never love someone else in the way he loved you. It wasn’t possible.
Bucky then pulled you back into his arms, securing you into his chest, you wound your arms around his waist, both of you silently listening to your heartbeats sync into one, memorizing the shape of him against you, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your cheek.
He was leaving in the early morning. Just a few measly hours from now. You had promised long before you knew he was leaving that you would take the shift of one of your nursing friends.
You gripped each other like as long as you did time wouldn’t move forward, like you could say in this moment forever. Alas, cruelly, you knew the time you had with him was just about up.
You stepped back, fingers lingering in his until the very last second. “Goodnight, James, I’ll see you soon,” you whispered. It was a lie; you had no idea the next time he would be right in front of you.
He gave you one final smile, squeezing your hand before leaning in and giving you one last kiss on the cheek. In that moment you tried to memorize his scent, the scratch of his facial hair against the skin on your face.
The two of you had been friends and now lovers for your entire lives. But now everything was moving too fast. “I love you, more than anything Y/n,” He spoke. "Because you're the best part of me" he breathed.
Finally, your hands separated, and Bucky took three steps back still keeping his gaze locked on yours. He paused one last time, wanting nothing more than to stay the night....but then his eyes caught the faint glow of a light in your apartment window.
He gave you one more sad smile then turned and walked down the alley, each step taking him farther from you, from home, from everything you both knew. A few tears fell from your eyes as you watched him go wishing he didn’t have to.
At the doorway, you paused for a minute, pressing the back of your hands to your cheeks to cool them. It did nothing to quell the ache in your chest.
When you finally made your way up the stairs and opened the apartment door, you expected darkness.
But Steve was still awake.
You jumped slightly at his sitting on the chair in the living room, the small table lamp gently flickering next to him.
“You were out late,” he said softly, but not in an unkind way. In his mind he now noticed the floral perfume you were wearing, another quiet confirmation of what he already suspected.
“Oh Stevie,” you exclaimed, your voice just above a whisper. “I didn’t think you would still be awake,” You offered a sheepish smile as you toed off your shoes. “Yeah... lost track of time.”
“With Buck?” he asked, voice steady.
You hesitated just a second too long but couldn’t tell if your brother had meant to insinuate anything more than what he said out loud. “Yeah.”
Steve nodded slowly, gaze flickering back toward the fireplace. You followed his eyes to the photos that sat atop the mantle.
“You know you didn’t have to wait up for me,” you told him.
“I just got in a few minutes ago,” he said leaning forward from his spot on the chair.
“And where did your night take you?” You spoke lightly, trying to shift the conversation subtly away from the topic of you and Bucky.
Steve didn’t say anything right away, just reached for the card sitting on the small table beside him and held it out to you. “I stopped by the enlistment center,” he stated slowly.
“Oh Steve,” you started, your gaze dropping and hand coming up to your face. Your brother’s quest to get drafted and getting rejected each time had made your heart hurt at his reoccurring failure due to reasons he couldn’t control.
He passed you the card. IA was stamped on the crisp paper. Your mind buzzed in confusion. That was within the same draft category Bucky had been assigned. “I had a conversation with a scientist who thinks I’m a possible candidate for a specific program.
You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re going to be amazing,” you whispered happy that your brother was being given the chance he always wanted but sad at the prospect of him leaving. It felt like everything was moving too fast, another goodbye waiting just around the corner.
“I’ll tell you more about it in the morning,” Steve said. “it’s late, we should probably go to bed,” you nodded, crossing the room toward the hallway that led to your room. You could tell he had something else he wanted to say but you didn’t press.
You made your way down the hall, closing the door to your room softly and exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
Glancing across the room, you gazed through the open window looking down the alleyway. The way you and Bucky had just came. Although the alley below was empty, you left the window open, just in case he decided to come back.
Chapter Text
September 1943, Italy, Allied Front Lines
“Smith!”
“Astor!”
Bucky was practically bursting out of his skin and he as he loitered at the entrance of the makeshift mail tent. The deputy administrative officer, Roman Johnson, was in charge of announcing the daily mail. Bucky had come every morning for the last week hoping to hear his own name.
“Fletcher!”
It was a new form of torture, the waiting. Back home, he’d been used to seeing you almost every week since befriending the Rogers siblings, damn near every day since the two of you had become something more.
“Jones!”
“Dugan”
Bucky’s heart dropped as the stack of letters got slimmer and slimmer. Just a handful remained.
The officer paused briefly as he handed the previous letter to Dugan. Bucky was glad on behalf of his fellow infantryman; Dugan’s mother had not been happy that her son had been drafted and worried constantly. Bucky thought of his own mother.
She’d written him a few times since he had been deployed. Bucky was happy to write back but knew sooner or later he would have to tell his Ma’ about you. He winced internally at the image that came to mind of his mother gleefully learning of the news and the response that would follow with probing questions. Bucky loved his mother but she could be a bit overbearing in her son’s love life and a notorious gossip. Half the mothers in Brooklyn would quickly find out about his romance. Maybe Bucky should figure out a way to tell Steve before he found out from a random woman in Brooklyn.
Bucky’s heart twinged. He hadn’t had the chance to tell Steve yet either. He’d meant to, but it never felt like the right time to write it in a letter. And now Steve was halfway across the globe, dressed in a spangled uniform and selling war bonds. Word was that bond sales had tripled since “Captain America” had been introduced to the world.
Bucky was proud of Steve. His best friend had always yearned to serve his country. To do his part. Hell, Steve was more dedicated to the cause than any army man Bucky had met in Europe.
“Barnes!” The sound of his name snapped Bucky from his thoughts. His heart began beating rapidly as he stepped forward, a wide grin already spreading across his face.
He passed Dugan on the way up to the front, his friend giving him a knowing smirk.
“Must be quite a sweet girl Barnes” the man teased, a bit louder than necessary and enough to get the attention of the men around him. A few snickers came from the crowd. “you’ve got that glazed look in your eyes, you’re a lovesick fool.” Dugan laughed, hitting Bucky on the arm with his own letter. The other men whooped loudly around him.
Bucky’s cheeks flushed at the comment, his smile turning sheepish. He wasn’t in the habit of sharing his love life. Not because he was ashamed of you, rather he wanted to spare your honor and himself from the crude comments of the hardened army men.
Bucky slipped the envelope into his breast pocket as he stepped out of the tent, the sounds of training drills drowning the sounds of the whistles in the tent. He quickened his pace, returning to his bunk. Thankfully, many of the men were still at breakfast or drill.
His eyes flickered down to the envelope, running his thumb over corner of the cream paper, over the familiar handwriting scribbled in black ink. Without wasting another moment, he broke the seal and carefully opened the letter smiling at the words delicately inscribed.
My Beloved James,
I’m so relieved to have received your last letter. The weeks seem endless, and I practically wait by the door for the postman. Brooklyn feels emptier with every passing month, without you and Steve. I find myself dreaming more often of the day you both come home, of having you back with me.
I’m sure you have seen the news about Steve. He is practically a celebrity now and is touring the country as “Captain America”. I even got to go to a few shows when the tour stopped in New York. It was quite the sight to see my brother up there, singing with the showgirls, wearing such a bright outfit. I even got to meet a U.S. Senator! Mr. Brandt spoke so highly of Steve but I don’t think the world truly understands the kind of man Steve truly is.
I’m a very proud sister, but it is however strange not to see the same scrawny brother who left home a few months ago. Perhaps his body has finally caught up to the size of his heart.
Steve told me he may be going overseas soon. With stops on the front lines. Maybe your next letter will be written while sitting next to him.
In your absence I enrolled in the accelerated nursing corps program. Perhaps I needed something to keep myself busy while missing you I start at the Queens Serviceman Readjustment Center in a few weeks. It’s where they bring the injured men who are not medically eligible to serve anymore. I have done some shadowing, and it is horrible to hear the stories the men tell. Still, I’m proud to be doing something that might help the war effort, even in a small way.
I pray each night for your safety James. don’t know how I’d carry on if you weren’t in this world with me. Please come home to me soon, once the war is over I’m never letting you out of my sight again.
I hope you’re able to write soon. Until then, know that even across the ocean, I love you. I carry you in my heart every moment, and I count the days until I can be in your arms again.
All my love,
y/n
Bucky’s grin spread across his whole face as he concluded the letter. He let out a soft breath, barely a laugh, as he lingered on the final line of your letter. All my love.
He read it again. And then a third time. He folded the letter, careful to avoid tearing the pages to store it into his army box where he stored all his personal belongings. Most treasured, the letters from you.
As he slipped the letter back into its envelope, his fingers brushed against something else. He paused, furrowing his brow, and reached in again. His fingers closed around a smaller square. A photo.
Flipping it over it revealed a picture with your blinding smiling face beaming up at him. It was from your nursing certification, as you were dressed gingerly in a crisp white dress. Rogers was stitched into the front of your uniform, just above your heart. Bucky’s heart welled with pride at the picture. He swallowed, trying to chase away the sudden tightness in his throat.
At the bottom the photo had an identifier in tiny black type letters “Y/n Rogers, Certified Nurse, Brooklyn, NY. Bucky knew the type of hospital you would be stationed at. Recovery units. For men who came back different. He pushed the looming fear the prickled at the back of his brain, looking at your face once more.
He traced your name with his thumb before slipping the glossy photo into his inner chest pocket. Right over his heart. Bucky would keep you with him. Nothing could harm him as long as he had you with him.
Fumbling in his box, he retrieved his rationed stationery and began to write a response.
Dearest Y/N,
Thank you for your letter. I don’t think there is a more beautiful nurse anywhere in the world,
Bucky exhaled, pondering over the words you had written. It was an interesting sentiment that Steve could be here with him soon. He always knew the world could never hold his friend back, but he could’ve never imagined Steve would become what he has.
My group’s headed out today. Somewhere near Azzano. Maybe Steve will be here by the time I get back. He’d love to see you in that uniform.
His pen hovered in the air for a moment.
If Steve really was coming, that meant there’d be no hiding anymore. No dodging the truth. Sooner or later, he’d have to tell Steve
His heartbeat picked up again. If his best friend was truly coming here, that means there’d be no hiding. Bucky would have to tell him about the two of you. He didn’t know how Steve would react at the news that for months his best friend and sister had been hiding from him. Hurt? Or worse angry.
Suddenly, A horn blared from outside, loud and sharp, cutting through his thoughts. It signaled the call for formation. The 107th had been assigned to investigate an abandoned German military base rumored to be a weapons development site. Command believed the structure still held important intel that could benefit the Allies.
Bucky folded the half-written letter quickly, tucking it back into the envelope with a frustrated sigh. It would have to wait. He’d finish it after the mission. He placed his hand over his heart taking one last breath to feel the outline of your photo before joining his fellow military men outside.
Several Hours later, Azzano
Bucky blinked, the overhead light was bright. They blinded him.
His ears still were ringing. One may have been blown out completely. Pain bloomed somewhere under his ribs. He didn’t have enough energy to check for blood.
He blinked again. Slowly. The ceiling above him was concrete, cold and unfamiliar. Where was he?
The last thing he remembered was being surrounded. Practically the entire squad.
It had been a trap the whole time and they had walked straight into it.
The Germans had deployed a sort of gas. It made everyone in the infantry collapse to the ground. Bucky had only a cloudy memory of being dragged away. Behind a door with strange symbol. One he had never seen before. A skull surrounded by tentacles.
His fingers were barely able to move, but he was able to brush the spot on his chest. Nothing. His heart clenched at the absence. The photo was gone you were gone. Tears began to prick behind his eyes.
He was going to die here.
He would never get to see Steve again. His best friend, the person who had he had gone through life with.
He would never keep his promise of coming home to you, of asking Steve for his blessing to marry you.
He would never get to see your face when he came home when he finally got to have you in his arms again.
The life he had imagined for the two of you. All of those plans were now the fleeting, foolish dreams of a naïve boy.
“Looking for this Solider?” The voice was laced with a German accent, high-pitched and nasally. It echoed from the far end of the room. Bucky’s chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. A fear overwhelmed him, a fear for you. After a moment a small man came into the light, twiddling the photo of you in his fingers.
A tear ran down Bucky’s face at the sight of your smiling face. His breath quickened and he tried to move but was unable to do so.
The man studied him with mild curiosity, then tilted the photo toward the light, as if admiring it. “She is.....a lovely specimen,” the man mused. “Your sweetheart I presume,”
Bucky didn’t answer. He clenched his jaw trying to remain passive, but the man seemed to have the information already.
“Y/N Rogers, from Brooklyn,” he continued on, thumbing the bottom corner of the photo. Bucky hissed, trying to force his limbs to move. To shield you from this man.
“Any relation to the famous Steven Rogers? If my research serves me well, I believe the newly enhanced Captain America is also from Brooklyn,”
Bucky glared at him. Breathing hurt. Rage stirred under the surface, but he was still too weak to act on it. “I won’t tell you anything,” he croaked, barely above a whisper.
The man continued on, stepping closed to Bucky. “You soldiers are so sentimental. I must say it is very fascinating,” the man paused, leaning in close. “Does it give you hope Solider? Give you a reason to keep going on? A reason to endure?”
The metal door across the room clanked open. Another masked person dressed all in black wheeled in a medical cart. The same skull symbol embroidered on the front. Bucky’s eyes widened and his stomach lurched at the sight. Metal glinting. Tools. A needle and vial.
“Oh, I don’t need you to talk,” the man spoke, still holding the photo of your smiling face. “I only need your body to survive the long process.”
The masked individual began assembling the syringe. Bucky stared at the photo of you trying to hold onto your image, to only think of you, not the pain that surely was about to follow. A prick of the needle was all he felt at first. But the Pain quickly followed, spreading throughout his body. White hot blinding pain. He was screaming.
And the last thing he saw before the darkness overtook him was the small man tucking the photo of you into the briefcase at his side.
Notes:
Thanks for reading :)
Chapter Text
Steve’s boots pounded against the cold stone as he sprinted through the narrow corridor, the sharp crack of gunfire echoing from the firefight outside. Fear pushed him to go faster, to get to his best friend. He had barely let the solider get the words out of his mouth before taking off deeper into Hydra’s base.
He’s here. He has to be.
The labyrinth of tunnels twisted and turned, far more expansive than Steve had anticipated. Panic began to set in, that maybe Bucky was already lost. Already dead.
After another turn, a sharp noise made Steve’s stride slow. An open doorway was about 20 feet ahead of him, faint silver light poured into the hall. Trying to remain quiet, he crept closer, weary of remaining Hydra agents.
Suddenly, a disheveled figure burst into the hallway. He was short, a hat lopsided on his head from being hurriedly thrown on. He did not look like a solider and didn’t appear to have any weapons. A scientist or doctor maybe?
The man clutched a briefcase in both his arms, trying to keep the overflowing contents from spilling out. The man paused momentarily his frantic gaze met Steve’s. Recognition flared in his eyes but immediately turned into terror.
He then took a few steps backwards before turning a sprinting in the opposite direction, his knuckles white around his case. Steve took off running for the man, intending to chase him down but froze upon coming parallel with the open door.
A faint, broken sound came from the open doorway. He immediately abandoned the hunt for the doctor and walked cautiously into the room. The room was frigid and dark, lit only by the silver glow of moonlight filtering through high windows. The stench of antiseptic mingled with something metallic in the air.
A medical table was visible at the other end of the room. A body laid motionless atop it. Steve’s heart dropped.
Steve reached forward, catching a few incoherent mumbles as he got closer. When the figure came into the light, Steve’s heart dropped. It was Bucky and he was alive.
The incoherent mumbles continued, and Steve’s stomach churned. He glanced quickly over Bucky’s body and didn’t see any visible injuries beyond a few scrapes. But something had been done to him. That doctor had done something terrible to his friend.
Bucky’s eyes were open but glassy and unfocused. Firmly, Steve tugged on the restraints, freeing his friend’s body.
“Bucky!”
No response.
Steve leaned over his friend, grasping at his shoulders, intending to drag him out of there if necessary. “C’mon buddy it’s me, we have to get you out of here,”
Finally, Bucky turned his head slightly and looked at him.
“...Steve,” He mumbled. Bucky’s brows drew together, sluggish and confused.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.,” Steve said, tugging at his friend’s shirt. Bucky stirred, a faint flicker in his expression. His gaze shifted, like he couldn’t quite connect reality to memory. His voice a raspy whisper. “Y/n...”
The name slipped out like a breath and Steve’s throat tightened thinking of you. “Yes, we are getting you home. You’ll see here again,” He gripped Bucky, trying to anchor him back to the present.
Hoisting his weakened friend to his feet, Steve slung his arm over his shoulder. Bucky sagged against him, but was able to walk, his legs shaking slightly.
“I thought you were dead” Steve said told his friend. A light of recognition flickering into Bucky’s face. His eyes now able to focus on Steve. Like he had finally snapped out of a dream.
Bucky patted Steve’s chest now having to gaze upward at his friend. “I thought you were smaller,” The quick sarcasm confirmed to Steve that his friend was somewhat alright. Another blast sounded from somewhere deep in the base, igniting Steve’s sense of urgency. He grabbed Bucky, dragging him toward the exit.
“What happened to you” Bucky asked, breathing hard. “I joined the army,” Steve quipped back. The walls rattled. Time was running out. He quickened their pace. “Stay with me, Buck,”
Taking one last look around the room Steve saw maps of other bases on the walls, information that should be taken with them but there was no time. Steve had what he came for.
The pair stumbled up the hallway, Bucky eventually found his footing and ran without Steve supporting them. Another explosion came; the place was heating up fast. They came across an enormous hanger, their exit just across a narrow bridge suspended over a fiery drop. The place was coming apart fast.
Bucky froze for a moment gazing at the precarious bridge in front of and then back to Steve. There was something different in his eyes, something desperate. “Steve, there is something I need to tell you!” he called over the sound of blasts ringing around them.
More explosions below rang out. The metal around them creaking under the stress. The bridge collapsed, leaving a wide gap. They would have to make a jump for it.
Steve pulled Bucky forward, trying to get his friend closer to the exit. “Tell me when we get out of here alive!” Steve yelled back.
Bucky didn’t hesitate. He sprinted and leapt across the chasm, his body clanging against the impact of the metal. Steve followed a heartbeat later. The pair made a run for the exit just as the roof collapsed around them.
Returning Home
The usually dull army base immediately became energized when Steve walked in with the prisoners of war. A few hundred men had been saved. Each someone’s brother, son or lover. It ignited the camp as men erupted into cheers, laughter, and shouts of disbelief. And for once, hope didn’t feel foolish.
Steve finally saw a flicker of his friend’s usual demeanor. As he joined the other men in cheering Steve’s heroics. A familiar smile. But Steve could tell something was still panicked behind Bucky’s eyes, like his mind was stuck in the concrete walls of that lab. Something inside him hadn’t quite made it out yet.
Immediately after the jubilation had died down into a lively buzz, the medics swarmed the group, looking over as many men for injuries as possible.
“C’mon Buck,” Steve began. “Let’s get you looked at,” He went to grab his friend’s arm and tug him toward the medical tent, but Bucky pulled away, distracted, and looking in the direction of the barracks.
To his surprise, Bucky didn’t resist further. He gave Steve a small nod. “Yeah…alright. Let’s go.”
Inside the medical tent, a nurse listened carefully as Steve told her how he had found Bucky. She nodded in concern when Bucky confirmed he had no clear recollection of anything happening in the lab. “All I remember was being injected with something.... and the pain just spread,” She nodded, her brow furrowing in concern as she gestured Bucky to an empty cot.
“We will take good care of him, Captain,” she whispered to Steve. “He should be alright but we will check him for any signs of infection or concussion. It is a good sign that he is walking and talking normally, so whatever they gave him doesn’t appear to be permanent or deadly.” She confirmed with a small smile.
Steve’s shoulders relaxed, as he watched Bucky sit down on the cot. He looked the best out of the other men in here. Maybe the nurse was correct, and it had just been a numbing agent he received during his time in captivity.
“I’ll come check on you in a bit,” Steve told his friend. Bucky gave Steve a smile “Thanks for coming back for me, I own you one,”
After a few hours and many harsh words from Colonel Phillips, Steve returned to the medical tent to check on Bucky. Upon entering, it was clear that many of the men had been cleared, many of the beds now empty.
Steve’s gaze scanned the tent, easily spotting Bucky. A bag of antibiotics hung next to the bed, clear tube feeding into the crook of his arm
He was about to call out to his friend, but his words died in his throat as he noticed his friend deep in thought. Bucky sat hunched over, a few pages of loose paper clutched tightly in his hand. He was not writing. He was reading.
Steve lingered for a moment near the tent’s entrance, watching his friend. The focused smile, the slight tilt of his head, the way his lips pressed together in deep thought, reading the words written on the page.
He smiled faintly. Steve didn’t need to see the letter to know who it was from.
The next night
A night of celebration was in order. Most of the captured men had been released by the medics. Their scrapes had been wrapped, or their broken bones had been set.
The small town of Serravezza was a short walk away from the base and Colonel Phillips broke his usually icy exterior and allowed the men a night of reprieve. Most of them had taken full advantage, some already a few drinks deep by the time Steve, Bucky, Dugan, and Jim Morita set off toward the local pub. The other two men taking a quick fascination to the super solider. “Its magic!” Jim mused, “I wouldn’t have believed a word you say if I had not seen you outrun that tank!” The ranger was transfixed by what had happened to Steve.
Bucky still was getting used to looking at his friend and seeing the same man he grew up with. His instincts still told him to protect Steve, despite the fact that Steve was now the one rescuing him.
The night air was cold, and it breezed around the groups of men walking through the quaint Italian town. It was so much quieter here than New York, a city where most shops and restaurants stayed open late. Here, most of the shops had been closed hours ago, but Bucky could see one lively joint, their destination, a few blocks ahead. Many man already a few drinks in, pretending that they were at their hometown bar and not in the middle of a war.
Bucky took a moment to think about home, his pace unconsciously slowing as he trailed behind the other men. His mind settled on a particular memory of the three of you back home. A night, not so long ago, when things still felt simple.
The three of you had gone out to Morrie’s; a bar a few blocks away from his family's apartment, where the floors were always sticky but the music was good and the drinks cheap. After Steve’s first two drinks had hit him particularly hard, you and Bucky, had taken it upon yourselves to finish the rest of Steve’s glass - not wanting him to get too drunk, but not wanting to let your money go to waste either. That notion had failed very quickly, and the three of you quickly let the drinks get away from you.
It had been a few weeks of hiding your relationship from Steve, and the alcohol had the two of you loosening your reservations, making the secret more of a thrill than anything.
When the owner’s young son came around with his camera to take photos of all the patrons that night, Bucky let himself wind his arm around your waist and pull you in close. Far too close to be considered innocent. The thin fabric of your dress was the only thing that had separated him from your skin. He had told a stupid joke, listening to the glorious sound that emitted in reaction from your lips. Steve was too buzzed to notice the hints of something more between the two of you, instead laughing right on the cue. Bucky had gone right back the next day to get the copies of that photo.
Despite you two trying to be subtle about your relationship, that night you let yourselves be reckless. Steve was too drunk to notice how you had reached over and kept your fingers intertwined under the table with Bucky’s. And later, he was too drunk to hear Bucky sneak up the fire escape later that night to your bedroom after dropping the two of you off. Too drunk to hear the two of you giggling and talking throughout the night. It was the one night Bucky let himself be improper and stay over, holding you all night.
And the next morning, Steve was too hungover to hear Bucky stumbling out your window, you covering your mouth to hold in laughter as you watched him. Too hungover to notice your haphazardly applied makeup which cover a small purple mark that bloomed at the crook of your shoulder and neck.
It had been the most perfect night. It was the night he knew he was utterly addicted to you. That he knew he was at the point of no return with you.
He scrapped his boot against the dark cobblestones on the street, frowning. The memory was beautiful, one of his favorites, but also felt like a gut punch. Turning, he caught his reflection in one of the shops, a few cuts and bruises still lingered on his face. Leaning closer to the window, something inside made him stare a moment longer.
Simple rings rested on velvet displays, their gold bands paired with diamonds gleaming under the moonlight. Bucky's heart clenched, his mind consumed by you.
“Hey Sargent,” Dugan’s voice called to him, cutting through the fog. Bucky hadn’t noticed the man walk back from his place with Jim and Steve. The two other men still walking slowly ahead. “You window shopping or just planning ahead?” the man jolted him, amusement glazing his knowing smile.
Bucky blinked, snapping out of his thoughts and focusing on the man ahead of him. “Just taking in the sights Dugan,” he said back, trying to muster a joking tone as he began to walk again.
Dugan kept his slow pace alongside Bucky. “You chose a hell of a place to get sentimental. That special pen pal of yours must be some girl,”
Bucky shot him a look, a smile tugging at his lips, thinking of you again.
“Like I said, just taking in the sights of the town,” he spoke casually.
Dugan laughed, clapping Bucky on the back as the two men made it to the entrance of the rowdy bar, “Remind me to play cards with you sometime Barnes, because you ain’t fooling a damn soul.”
Inside, Bucky and the three other men met up with the rest of their comrades, now going by the Howling Commandos. Steve wanted to put together a task force. The men were wild, but fierce fighters and loyal to a fault. All they needed from Steve to agree was for the Solider to open them a bar tab.
Steve had smirked in agreement and Bucky and him went to join the line at the crowded bar. The place was packed and the room boomed with laughter and the slamming of beers. But suddenly, the men around them fell silent. Steve’s gaze confirmed to Bucky who had walked in from another room. The woman, Peggy.
She was beautiful, and Bucky could tell she made Steve nervous. Despite the serum giving Steve a boost in the physicality department, he was still hopeless with women.
“Captain,” She greeted him.
“Agent Carter,” he replied stoically back.
Bucky internally groaned at his friend but took pity on him. He smiled at Peggy, giving her a subdued greeting. “Agent Carter,” He began, not so subtly elbowing Steve in the ribs. “We were just going to order a drink; I’m sure Steve would appreciate some company that isn’t fanning his super solider ego all night.”
He could feel Steve’s glare at him, one he had received a lot back home. Peggy to her credit, gave a small chuckle, stepping closer to Steve, placing a hand on his arm.
“I appreciate the offer Sargent Barnes, but I prefer someplace a bit quieter,” She replied, keeping her eyes locked on Steve.
“You don’t like music” He supplemented. Still trying to send a mental message to his friend to take over the conversation.
“No, I like music,” she rebutted, “But I just haven’t found the right partner.”
The sentence hung in the air between Steve and her, Bucky despite him doing most of the talking for his best friend, felt utterly invisible.
“And I still have to go debrief with Colonel Phillips,” Peggy told them.
“Maybe another time then,” Steve finally found his voice. Peggy smiled at his words.
“Maybe when this is all over,” She confirmed, gesturing to the place around them filled with army men dressed in their uniforms.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the mission brief, Agent Carter.” Steve told her. She gave him one last smile before walking toward the door.
“You never stop do you.” Steve shook his head, giving Bucky a joking glare. “Never when it comes to you and your hopeless skills with women.” Bucky confirmed.
“You know,” Steve began, the two of them finally getting a seat at the bar. “You are one to talk, I haven’t seen you speak to one girl.” Steve sipped his drink, but his eyes never left his friend. His look was questioning, but his tone was deliberate.
Bucky’s heart dropped, heat flushing in his face from something other than the alcohol. “Steve, I need to tell you something,” he blurted. “Something important.”
“Would it have anything to do with those letters you have been reading?” Steve eyed him.
Bucky froze, he stared at Steve, feeling guilty, feeling like a blind idiot. “its y/n,” he whispered.
Steve’s face remained passive. But it confirmed to Bucky that his friend had at least suspected something. “I figured, but hearing you say it,” his voice trailed off.
Bucky exhaled slowly. “At first, we didn’t mean to hide it. It was just that we wanted to keep it between us until we knew it was real.”
“Is it?” Steve whispered, his eyes still serious. "Something real?" Bucky had never felt more intimidated in his life. In any other situation he would’ve laughed at the fact that after all of these years, Steve finally found a way to scare the shit out of him.
But Bucky didn’t hesitate to tell the truth now. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I love her, Steve. I think I’ve loved her since the first damn night we...”
Steve’s face softened as he listened to his best friend. “You love her.” He restated.
“I do Steve, more than anything I’ve ever known. So much that when I was captured all I could think about was how I failed her. How I wouldn’t make it home."
Steve went quiet, processing what Bucky had spoken. His friend continued. “I was so terrified that I would never get to tell you. I regretted not putting it in a letter at the time, but now I think that would’ve been an improper way to tell you that I was in love with your sister. Or maybe I just was scared, wanted to keep our bubble just ours for as long as I could. I know that makes me a selfish coward,”
Steve’s lips quirked into a small smile at his friend’s rambles. He took pity on Bucky because he knew all the words he was saying were true, although Steve was surprised by how casually his friend spoke about being in love with you. “I’m glad you didn’t write it in a letter. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you all terrified like this.”
Bucky’s face relaxed a bit at his friend’s quip. “Ehm,” He spoke awkwardly, “How long did you know?”
Steve sighed thinking of that night again. “I guess I’ve known for a while. Suspected something was going on with a girl when you came back from training. Didn’t know it was specifically y/n until the night you dropped her off after the Stark expo.” He leaned his arms on the bar. “I figured you two would tell me when you were ready, didn’t think it would take quite this long, but I guess you had the war as an excuse.”
Bucky’s heart clenched. “I know it took me too long... I just wanted to ask you properly, know that you were okay with it,”
Steve smiled, thinking of your face that night he caught the two of you. How you had smiled up at Buck like he was the only person in the entire world. “You were the only person I ever trusted with her, even before.” Steve stated firmly, “I never had to worry about you looking after her, always knew she was safe with you.”
Bucky smiled, relief washing over his face.
“But you should know I’ll never let you live down how long you were hiding it from me. Thought I was going to have to find out at the wedding. I’m sure your Ma is happy anyways.”
Bucky choked on the drink he was sipping. “I actually haven’t told her yet,” he winced, his palms practically sweating at the thought.
“Oh you are dead,” Steve chuckled, “she will absolutely wring you out for keeping this from her.”
The pair chuckled, at the joke and Bucky finally felt a weight lift off his chest. “I love you Steve, you’re my best friend.”
“I love you too buddy,” Steve replied, patting Bucky on the back, “But please don’t hide something like that from me ever again,”
Back home in Brooklyn
The midday shift finally brought a rare break for you at the hospital. The Center had seen a shift the last few weeks. An increase in returning ships seemed like they were sending you an endless amount of patients to care for.
Each time you had to do intake you held your breath, hands trembling at the thought that Bucky or Steve would be wheeled in the door.
Your time here had grown exponentially as the war waged on and barely had time to eat breakfast at home. Luckily that morning you ran into Henry, the older gentleman who delivered the mail. He gave you a knowing smile as he passed you your stack of mail.
Finally, with a lull in the day, you refilled your tin cup with coffee and opened the back door, sitting on the steps in the alley. It was quieter back here, private. Your heart rate quickened as you fingered the letter you had been waiting all morning to open.
Your name was written in familiar handwriting. Bucky’s handwriting. Taking your finger, you traced where you knew his hands had been.
With trembling hands, you carefully ripped it open, taking out the sheets of paper that had been gently folded into the cream envelope. An Italian postage stamp was stuck on the corner; you took note of his location. There had been whispers of a planned attack on a German base and you prayed Bucky’s regiment hadn’t been involved.
Your breath caught at the first few words written.
Dearest Y/n,
I don’t know how to begin this letter, except to say that I’m alright. I know you will be worried sick when I tell you this, but I can't lie.
I was captured, along with many men. They held us in a German base.
I thought I would never see you again. That I would never get to come home to you. To tell you the things I should’ve told you a long time ago. That I love you. That when I make it home I promise I’m going to marry you. I have never been more sure about anything in my life.
I’m sorry for any worry I have caused you but know that Steve and I are fighting every day to make it home. To make it home to you.
Speaking of your brother, Steve knows about us Y/n. I told him that I loved you, that I’m in love with you. I told him that I have never been so certain about anything in my life. Never been more certain about you.
Of course, somehow he knew. He said that I wasn’t subtle about these letters. But despite the grief he gave me, he is happy for us.
And now, with Steve here, I’m more sure than ever that I’m going to come home to you. We’re going to end this war together and come home together. To you, who makes up the best part of me.
All my love,
James.
You hadn’t realized that you were crying until a tear dropped onto the page. But all the same, a smile bloomed across your face so big that your cheeks began to hurt.
Steve knew. Bucky was safe. They were together and keeping each other safe.
You were still clutching the letter like a lifeline when a familiar voice startled you from the moment. “Well, Well, Well,”
You turned around and saw your friend Susie leaning against the doorway, staring at you with a teasing smile. “Who has you all weepy and lovey eyed at the same time?” Your friend stepped forward a mischievous eyebrow raised.
“no one,” you lied, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. You hadn’t told anyone about your relationship with Bucky yet. Your fellow nurses, despite being some of your closest friends, were notorious gossips.
“Oh, a secret love letter?” Susie’s eyes lit up, and before you could react, she swooped down and plucked the letter from your hands.
“Wait, Susie, no!” you yelped, jumping up and reaching for your friend. Her eyes were bright, she loved to tease, and your flushed cheeks made you quite the target. “Give it back!”
But in the time you had jumped up and reached for the letter, Susie had already scanned the signature. Your friend’s mouth dropped open at the realization.
“James Barnes?! Bucky Barnes?!” she squealed, practically dancing in place. “Y/N, you sneaky little,” You winced at the level of her voice, peering over her shoulder to look inside, hoping no other nurses on break would hear the commotion.
“You’re in love with Sergeant Barnes!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down!” You hissed, reaching for the letter, but it was too late.
Three more nurses, Clara, Evelyn and Hazel came running from inside, curious about all the noise. “What’s going on?” Clara asked, grinning at the scene in front of her.
Your eyes pleaded with Susie, but you knew all hope was lost. She was looking at you like the cat who ate the canary. “Y/n has been keeping a secret,” She chorused.
Your cheeks flamed in embarrassment, perhaps you shouldn’t have been so secretive, you could’ve save yourself all this trouble.
“Y/n has a boyfriend, and from the looks of it,” Susie grinned, wiggling the letter. “Perhaps more than just a boyfriend,”
You shook your head but couldn’t stop the pride filling your chest.
The other nurses squealed at the proposed gossip.
“It’s Bucky Barnes!” Susie announced proudly, smiling at you. Gasps filled the air. Choruses of ‘I knew you were hiding something’ and ‘you were always going swoony over those letters’ filled the air'.
You fained dramatics, groaning “Oh you bunch are insufferable!” Finally, you were able to wrangle the letter away from Susie, carefully tucking it into its envelope. But despite the exposure of your secret and the jeers from the group of girls, you laughed along.
For the first time, you felt the weight of the secret lift. That you could freely hold Bucky out in the open. That he was yours and you were his.
And there, in that dull alley, despite the mountain of men waiting inside for stitches or painkillers, you felt as though you could see the light at the end of this war. Steve and Bucky were alive, and they were safe together. It was nearly the end of all this.
You could almost see them coming home.
Notes:
Happy before the sad?
Chapter Text
A chill ran down Bucky’s spine as he gazed over the snowy alps. The jagged cliffs dropped sharply to icy ravines below. His eyes found their target, a long set of train tracks that snaked through the mountainside. But the freezing temperature didn’t affect Bucky. His body burned in anticipation and his mind was only thinking of one thing, finishing this one last mission.
The snow crunched under his boots as he turned back toward Steve. He was gazing down the cliff, following a long wire that was attached a hundred feet away near the tracks.
They were waiting for confirmation of Arnim Zola’s incoming presence. Intel had intercepted word that he was traveling between two Hydra bases. The mountains restricted travel and the tracks below were the easiest.
Bucky had put the pieces together that the man who had injected him that day in Azzano must’ve been this Zola. He clenched his fists at his sides harshly. He was the man who had nearly taken his mind, his future, his life. Had nearly taken you much more than just his picture of you.
The one who had nearly taken away his chance to be with you. The mission objective was to capture, but Bucky would be getting that photo back even if it had to be plucked off the scientist’s dead body.
“Nervous?” Steve asked him solemnly. Bucky glanced at his friend.
“No,”
It was a truthful response. If successful, this could be their last mission. Capturing Zola could cripple Hydra’s weapon supply. It meant finally going home.
Steve walked a few steps toward the ledge and pulled out his compass. He flicked it open and turning his back to Bucky as he pointed the instrument parallel with the tracks. He stared intently at the device.
Bucky smirked at his friend. It was very obvious Steve was focused on the newspaper photo of Peggy slipped into the top casing and not the magnetic needle wiggling slightly in the case.
“So are you going to ask her out when we get back?” Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder, startling his friend out of his trance. Steve snapped the compass shut, but the smug look in Bucky’s eyes told him he had been.
Steve frowned, his eyes falling to where he twiddled the device between his fingers. “I don’t even know if she thinks of me... in that way,” Bucky rolled his eyes, giving him an exasperated are you kidding me look.
Steve relented to his friend’s silent words. “Fine....I just,” He paused, taking a breath. “I just don’t know how I’d ask her,”
Bucky internally laughed at his friend’s sheepishness. Some things never change, even if Steve’s body had.
“Just, be direct, it’s obvious she likes you. Don’t dance around it,” He paused, thinking of you, his eyes dropping at the night he had finally told you. “Don’t make the mistake of waiting too long like I did.” The confession stumbled out. Steve shot him a sidelong glance; both the men knew Bucky was speaking from experience. He had a distant look in his eye, thinking back that night he had finally kissed you.
Bucky watched Steve’s eyes flickered with curiosity. He threw a chaff smile at his friend. “Also, it’s a little creepy you’re carrying her photo around and haven’t even gone on a date with her.”
Steve gave a scoff laugh and shook his head. “Well, you weren’t exactly subtle with those letters, you practically slept with them!”
Bucky grinned, laughing at the picture. “What can I say, Y/N is a poet, captivating really.”
“Alright, I don’t need to know all that” Steve groaned and fained covering his ears. “Keep the details of my sister’s love life within the pages.”
Bucky chuckled, raising his hands up in mock surrender before tightening his tone again. “But seriously Steve....if you wait too long, you may lose it.” Steve’s brow frowned at the heavy weight of his friend’s warning.
The distant sound of a train whistle echoed in the distance. Both men stared toward the sound.
“And second chances can be hard to come by.”
The mission went to hell within seconds. It was stupid really, not planning that Hydra’s weapons master would have brought something new along. Within seconds, Steve had been knocked back against the train wall. Bucky stole a worried glance at his friend. He needed to get to him before the cannon’s refraction period waned.
“Steve!” He yelled, trying to get him to stir. A small groan came in response, the super solider weakly attempting to stand.
Bucky could feel the heat of the cannons as they began to spin. Without thinking, he lunged from his place behind the cargo. He picked up Steve’s discarded shield and prayed it was strong enough to withstand the blast.
Just a few feet and he could get to Steve. But there had not enough time.
A blinding hot blast of light hit him, physically pushing him off his feet. The sound of metal crunching was all he could comprehend before the bitter cold wind needled his skin.
His hands gripped the frail crossbar. The metal was slick with frost. His eyes stung. The air piercing cold and filed with the train’s debris.
“Bucky!” The hiss of the tracks drowned out Steve’s voice as he stood, too far away to grab onto Bucky.
The metal bar screeched as he inched his hands closer to Steve, his feet flailing below him. He had made the mistake of looking down and not moving quick enough. His heart stopping at the sight of the ravine stretching hundreds of feet below him.
It was tragic, that the universe had given him a false hope that he would make it home to you. Steve had saved him from capture, only for a fall to kill him now. Tears blurred his vision and his heart ached. He wished for a moment he had died on that table in Azzano, lost before he could’ve written you again. Before he again promised you that he would make it home.
He reached forward with one hand only inches away from Steve. A last stroke of hope pulsed in his veins. His fingers were practically in Steve’s.
Suddenly he felt the tension on his holding give out. The metal bar broke away from the decrepit train door. The universe cruelly ripping away every hope, every plan for a life with you. Gone instantly.
The last thing he saw was Steve. His friend’s horrified face as he fell, hand outstretched as if he still could reach him.
But the last thing he thought of was you. Your smile. Your voice. And the promise he would never keep.
The next day
The whiskey burned as it went down Steve’s throat, but true to Dr. Erskine’s assumption, it could not take the pain away.
The skin under his eyes was red and raw from crying and his head hurt from the pressure building.
Steve stared at his hands, he had been for what seemed like hours, at the small box that sat in his fingers.
After getting pulled from the train by Gabe Jones, he had learned of Zola's capture. Their mission was deemed a success by higher ups. Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. Not after what happened. The sheer panic and fear in his friend’s eyes as the metal gave way. The helplessness Steve felt, not being able to bridge the last few inches to grab Bucky’s hand. A few more seconds. That’s all he would have needed.
Bucky was dead. No man could’ve survived that fall.
Steve had wandered aimlessly after they had arrived back to the base. He didn’t know how many miles he had walked before coming across destroyed town. Windows had been broken in likely by gunfire or bombs, the whole place deserted. Steve easily had found the local pub with their most expensive bottles still on the top shelf. Half of it was gone, but the pain remained deep rooted, unshakable.
Heeled footsteps sounded from behind him. He turned slightly, linking eyes with Peggy. He wiped at his eyes but knew it would do no good to change his grief-stricken appearance.
“Steve,” She exhaled, a sad tone to her voice. It was clear she had been briefed on the mission’s outcome.
“I can’t get drunk, did you know that?” He asked, “Despite efforts,” Steve reached forward, pouring more of the bitter liquid into his cup.
“Your metabolism burns four times faster than the average person.” She confirmed. Peggy turned up a chair, sitting across from him. There was concern on her face as she looked as Steve wearily. He didn’t respond, looking again at the object in his palm, running his thumb over the soft velvet covering.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Peggy spoke softly. “You did everything you could to save Sargent Barnes.... Bucky,” she whispered the informal name for the first time. Steve physically winced at his friend’s name. At the reference to him in the past tense.
“You read the report, you know that’s not true,” Steve’s mind had already tortured him with every alternative decision he could’ve made. Being prepared for the canons, getting up faster after being shot, not letting Bucky go on the mission altogether when Steve knew very well what was at stake.
He reached forward, placing the small object on the table.
Peggy’s heart beat rapidly as she looked at the open box. A simple silver band with a sparkling diamond sat nestled in the velvet folds. Her heart physically ached at the sight.
“I, — I didn’t know Sargent Barnes had someone waiting back home,”
Steve gave a sad, hollow smile. “It’s my sister. He was going to give it to Y/N.” Steve didn't even know when Bucky had found the time to sneak away to get the band.
Peggy looked at Steve shocked and horrified at the realization. “I...” the words died in her throat. There was nothing that could be done, nothing that could be said.
Steve gave a humorless laugh. “When we were young, I knew she had a crush on him... thought it might fade overtime. He closed his eyes, as if he was reliving the past. “They had always been friends; we had all been friends. But somewhere along the line, it became something else for them. I’m not exactly sure when, maybe a few months before Buck got shipped off to training.”
Steve’s voice broke for a moment, tears threatening to spill over again. “I was oblivious of course, and they didn’t tell me. At least not at first”
Peggy gave a breathy laugh at that, and he smiled grimly. “Perhaps, I didn’t think anything changed because they continued to act the same way around each other, how they always had. I dunno, or maybe I was just blind.”
“The night before Buck was to leave to come here, I caught them. Nothing scandalous, he had just walked her home from what I guess was a date now come to think of it.”
Steve omitted the kiss he had witnessed. “They were just talking. Standing close.”
He exhaled shakily, staring past Peggy like he was back on that night, watching from their apartment window. “But... I had never seen either of them look at anyone else like that. Hell, I had never seen anybody look at anyone that way..... it was like the rest of the world had just disappeared around them.”
Peggy reached forward, placing a hand on Steve’s arm. “It sounds like they had the kind of love that won’t end even if life has.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Steve swallowed hard, the sting of tears bubbling behind his eyes. “How am I supposed to tell her?” his voice cracked painfully, his words angry. “How do I tell my sister that the man she loved, the man that bought her that...” Steve paused, looking again at the ring. “Who loved her, isn’t coming back?” His voice dropped to a choked whisper, “.....that I couldn’t save him,”
Peggy held Steve’s glassy stare, she squeezed his arm gently. “You do it by living in a way that honors him. Whatever comes next, you do it for him, so that his death and her pain isn’t in vain,”
Steve clenched his jaw. He already knew of the next mission, Colonel Phillips had told him of Red Skull’s plane, how they would have to intercept it.
“She’ll never forgive me,”
Silence stretched between the two. Their gazes downtrodden and stuck on the ring that sat in front of them. It looked out of place here, sparkling too bright when the man who bought it would never see it placed on the hand it was intended for.
Steve reached forward, and slowly closed the box, like closing it would somehow end the pain that wretched in his chest. But the pain remained along with the worry of what would become of you
Somewhere in the Alps
“Prep the specimen, we need to finish his injections before it is too late. Too much time has been already lost,” The scientist ordered, picking through the clutter of papers on the desk in front of him. A thin smirk curling at his lips upon finding the correct form.
“It is our second to last dose sir, if we don’t have any more, and with Zola gone.... maybe we should wait until we know we can make more,” the technician hesitated, glancing at the lab and the prisoner sedated.
“Zola left detailed notes addressing those concerns. We can move forward with injection. Zola will return when the plan is in place. Hydra will need the specimen now as Captain America lives.”
“I understand, but with the prisoner being late on his next dosage...” The pair arrived in the lab, surveying the prisoner.
The lead scientist ignored him. “We move forward," he repeated sternly, "Martain and Scofield are already working to solve the issue of the serum shortage. Genetics and physiology don’t lie.”
The restrained figure on the table stirred, breathing ever so faintly. Metal restraints kept him secured to the table and frost bites still clung to his hair.
“It is remarkable, that fall should’ve been fatal,” the technician whispered in awe.
“Kept alive only by the serum in his veins,” the scientist responded piously. “One may say our work is ordained by God.”
The hydra technician remained silent at the otherworldly sentiment, prepping the vial for administration.
The scientist continued with cold conviction. “Which is why, we must make sure this one survives to carry on our good work,”
The long needle descended toward the prisoner’s arm, the faint hum of equipment filling the silence as Hydra pressed forward with their work.
Notes:
I'd imagine you know whats coming next... (I say grimly).... See you at the next chapter.
Chapter Text
The cold air clung to everything around you, your tearstained face raw and wind-bitten. Winter had just begun to set in, the dirt was hardened and tough. No matter, there were no graves that needed to be dug, no bodies had been found to be placed in the earth.
The only thing that told the world of the two men were sterile, white headstones that poked out from the earth. Each pound of the stone into the frigid ground was like a stab to your heart. Like you were hearing it all over.
Both of them gone.
Your mind cruelly replayed that morning each time you closed your eyes, the memory dragging you under. A hurt you would never be able to heal from.
You had been running late. Fumbling around the apartment trying to gather your scarf, brush your hair while you half watched out the window like a fool waiting for a glimpse the mailman. Stupidly, you had hoped to get a letter from Bucky.
Instead, the doorbell had rang, an anomaly for the workday morning. It should’ve tipped you off that something was wrong.
Opening the door with a smile, you came face to face with a grief-stricken woman, her gloved hands holding a small metal box. Her eyes were full of sorrow, like she had been crying the whole trip over. She introduced herself in a heavy English accent as Peggy Carter. She was beautiful, but loss marred her features.
Your heart nearly stopped beating altogether. In that moment you instantly knew something was irreversibly wrong. Someone was either dead or captured. The military never sent someone in person with good news.
“I’m so sorry y/n,” that was the last words Peggy spoke that you had processed. “They are gone,”
The world tilted and you became lightheaded. The woman grabbed your arm, leading you to sit down on the old velvet chair before your knees could give out. She was crying as she spoke. “Sergeant Barnes and Steve were killed in action.”
Nothing, there was nothing left of either of them. You heaved, jagged breaths racking your body so hard you thought your lungs would collapse.
Peggy hugged you, a girl she had never met, as your entire world caved in around you. All the plans you had made. The years you were supposed to have. The memories that you were supposed to make. All ripped away with a few simple words. “We have not been able to recover their bodies,”
Those words were the final death blow. You couldn’t breathe. The sobs tore out of you before you could stop them, shaking your whole body. There would be no proof they had ever lived No body to lay in the earth, no marker for the life you had shared.
Peggy held you there for what could’ve been hours. You didn’t know how long. Each minute that went by was a new world. An unwanted reality in which you were alone. No Steve, your brother, no Bucky, your lover. Each second that crept by placed you farther away from the last time you had seen Bucky alive, laughed with him, kissed him. Each moment mocked you with a cruel truth.... that you would never do any of those things again.
Days later when you finally found the strength to open the box Peggy had given you. Cradled against your palm, landed a simple silver ring. Bucky’s ring that he intended to give to you.
Unable to breath, you collapsed on the kitchen floor. You sat for hours, staring at the ring sitting in your hand. Your engagement ring.
It should have been on your finger by now. You should have been beaming as he slipped it onto your hand, a promise kept that forever marked you as his.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to put it on, there was no purpose. Not without him. It instead laid cold and lifeless in your palm, nothing more than a hunk of metal and a vicious reminder of what you would never experience.
It now sat on the mantle alongside the photographs of the three of you. A memorial for only you, away from the prying eyes and their disingenuous apologies. Gossip of the poor girl who buried her boyfriend and brother on the same day.
The pastor’s voice blurred into the wind, the words of prayer meaningless to you. What kind of deity would be so cruel as to leave you without them. What kind of divine plan was it to bleed you of the two people who loved you the most and demanded you stand here without even their bodies to prove they ever lived? Why would God need Steve’s unwavering bravery and compassion? What would he do with Bucky’s loyalty and warmth? What had you done in a past life for the deity to punish you so severely?
When the service ended, people murmured condolences, their voices muffled, distant. You stayed rooted in place, staring at the twin headstones until the sky began to dim. When you believed you were alone, you let the sobs rack your body. Not keeping anything in now that there were no onlookers to intrude. Your friends had tried to be there for you, but you had stopped answering the door when they knocked.
“Y/N?”
Peggy came up next to you. You had seen her arrive halfway through the sermon, dressed in a winter over coat and leather gloves.
“It was a beautiful service,” She commented lightly, trying to keep a soft tone. You could tell that her eyes still were rimmed red from crying. You didn’t know the extent of her relationship with Steve, but you were starting to think they had been involved.
Bitter tears welled behind your eyes. The overwhelming sorrow you had felt remained, but cold and sharp anger was quickly consuming you. Fury at the cruel joke the universe was playing on you.
“It was a waste,” you whispered. “They aren’t here,” the pair stared at the headstones, the only marker of the empty graves.
“They are heroes,” she spoke trying to show you the silver lining. That their deaths were not in vain, “The world is safer because of their service. They captured Zola, killed the Red Skull. So many lives were saved”
"And why did it have to be them?" You stared piercingly at the woman. You hadn't intended to snap at her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to react any other way. “Out of every soldier on the field, why the two I loved most?”
Peggy inhaled slowly, her gloved hands tightening where they hung at her sides. For a moment she said nothing, her steady demeanor breaking just for a moment.
“Do you think I don’t ask myself the same thing?” she whispered. “Every hour? Every night? Steve was...” Her words broke off. She pressed her lips together, as if she’d revealed too much.
The pair of you stood in silence. You had regretted snapping at her, now knowing that she was grieving alongside you. “I’m sorry Peggy,” you whispered, the apology for more than just your outburst.
“Howard Stark is still looking,” She spoke quietly, “for Steve, for both of them.” You blinked at her. “He promised he wouldn’t stop looking until he found something. They were both strong, I have to believe they wouldn’t go without a fight.”
You trailed back, looking at Bucky’s name etched into the smooth white stone. Loyal Son and Friend.
“I once believed they would both come home,” You stated thinking back to your foolish hopes, “I don’t know if I can stand anymore more broken promises. Don’t know if I could handle losing them again.”
Peggy reached over and grasped your gloved hand in hers, squeezing lightly.
“If you need anything Y/N, I’m here for you,” you nodded hollowly at her words. “I’m helping Howard with a project that’s keeping me in the States for the time being. If you need a change of pace... or a distraction.... you will always be welcome,”
“Thank you Peggy,” you told her, giving her an attempted smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,”
“Do you want me to walk you home?” She asked, concern lacing her words.
You shook your head, a tear escaping your eyes. “No, thank.... no thank you, I think I’ll take the long way home, just some time to think,” you paused, the winter cold stung your throat. “But thank you for coming,”
“Okay,” She smiled, squeezing your hand one last time before turning away. “Please be safe,”
You watched until she was out of sight, leaving you alone with only the silence and the empty graves.
The Return Home
The streetlights were just flickering to life as you turned down the alleyway that led to your apartment. Dusk settling around you, casting long shadows on the brick walls enclosed around you.
The only sound was your echoing footsteps on the cobblestones which slowed to a stop as you climbed the stairs to your entryway.
The cold scrap of metal made you wince as you turned the old brass key in the lock. Entering the apartment, you were met with more silence.
The air was heavy, suffocating. You didn’t turn the lights on right away, letting the fading glow cast the room in dark shadows. You stared at the mantle, meeting the frozen smiles of Steve and Bucky. The fading sunlight reflected off the small diamond that sat in the ring nearby.
You reached up, your fingers ghosting the circle of silver. “Oh James,” you exhaled, the words slipping out like a curse.
That was when the air went frozen, your body rigid. A prickle crawled up your spine. You told yourself it was exhaustion, that your grief was playing tricks, but something felt wrong.
From the corner of your eye, you saw something shift in the shadows. But when you spun, heart hammering in your ears, nothing was there.
Then a hand shot out of the shadows, clamping a cloth over your mouth before you even had the chance to scream.
The smell of something decrepit and rancid filled your lungs. Panic surged within and you pushed forward, for just a moment escaping the grip of the intruder.
Frantically you looked around, trying to get a glimpse of the figure. But his face was not one you could name.
But just as quickly you had broken free, another figure lunged from the shadows, wrenching your arm, forcing it behind your back. A pained cry left your mouth as you were pulled back. No recognition in their eyes as they forced your back, the cloth once again being forced over your mouth and nose. They were only predators who had clearly planned for this moment.
You kicked. You clawed. But your screams were muffled against the strangling hand.
Both men had their hands on you now, dragging you back toward the door. You fought harder, nails ripping into the hands clasped around your forearms. One of the man cried out in pain as you ripped through their skin. But a few scratched were not enough.
Your throat was raw as you labored to breathe, but it stung, whatever was on the cloth was like splinters shredding your throat.
Dark spots began to cloud your vision. You tried to dig your heels into the worn wooden floor as it scrapped by beneath you. Nothing. The men dragged you further, relentlessly.
Fog invaded your brain. This was it, you were going to die at these unknown hands. Maybe this was the universe’s way of repenting. Of giving you back what it had taken. You gave one last desperate glance toward the mantle. Toward the photographs of Steve and Bucky. Toward the ring that still sat frozen. The framed memories so horribly distant.
And just like that, you were gone.
Notes:
Not a great time to be our trio, praying it gets better in the near future.....
Chapter 7
Summary:
Trigger Warning - references/implied torture
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Washington D.C., 2014
Natasha Romanoff did not get surprised easily. She had been all across the world tenfold, fought for the Soviets, now with S.H.I.E.L.D, and also the Avengers. Missions had now become routine, busting crime syndicates, rescuing politician’s kidnapped children, the whole nine yards. But somehow it always came back to Hydra.
The organization had been ridiculously good at penning their mantra because true to their name, each time one cell was busted, another sleeper agent would pop up three countries over.
Argentina.
That is where Fury was sending her next, something about the Nazi’s fleeing Europe after the second world war and some Hydra heads going too. Allegedly it had been abandoned after the revolution in 1973, but recent intel had pointed to sporadic activity dating back to the 1990s.
Pulling out her phone, she tapped the screen, locating a familiar contact. One she always liked to check in on when Hydra was involved.
The line rang for a few moments, before the call clicked, signaling a good connection.
“Natasha?” Steve’s voice came across the phone, he sounded as though he had been in the middle of something.
“Hi Soldier,” she spoke, intentionally flirty in a way that she knew would make the man on the other end uncomfortable. She smiled when she heard him groan on the other end of the line. Teasing the super soldier for his lack of romance skills in the modern age was quickly becoming one of her favorite pastimes.
“What do you need Nat?” he asked, “Everything alright?”
She put her feet up on her dashboard, her corvette was parked outside S.H.I.E.L.D’s facility. Her mission brief with Fury had just ended.
“Just wanted to know if you wanted to catch a flight tomorrow for a vacation in Buenos Aires. Everyone needs a getaway from work every now and then,” She spoke casually.
“Is that a joke?” he questioned,
“Steve, please, could you ever give me something sarcastic in return?” She muttered. He was hopeless. “I’m just trying to get some company on my Nazi busting endeavor.”
“They are sending you on another Hydra recon mission?” He asked, now sounding more interested than before.
“Could be nothing,” Natasha told him, “Just some old bunker but there has been blips of activity. Maybe whoever took the Scepter is hiding it in the Andes,” After the Battle of New York, Loki’s scepter had gone missing. S.H.I.E.L.D had been sending people on scouting missions to find it ever since.
“Hmm, I wish I could help....but Fury has me on call to help the STRIKE team with a new project. We start tomorrow.” Steve mused obviously intrigued.
“Darn,” Natasha mused playfully, thinking a moment. She hadn’t expected Steve to be able to come, but since meeting the man out of time, she had grown quite fond of him. There was something enticing about someone who was never around to see the worst mistakes of a person.
“How have you been?” she asked, they hadn’t spoken in a few weeks since their last mission together.
Steve hesitated, something obviously on his mind. “Fine... just busy, this new world moves so fast, it’s hard to catch your breath with everything going on.” his tone was careful, obviously nostalgic for a simpler time. “And why is all the technology so confusing, eye scan this, fingerprint that, what happened to simple buttons and switches?” Steve exasperated.
Natasha smiled into her phone, at his frustrations, “Do I need to schedule you for an appointment at the Apple Store so you can learn about your iPhone with the other folks your age?”
He gave a small laugh, but there was something wistful in it. “Back then, I had people who made the fight feel easier. Bucky. My sister.” His voice softened on the word. “With them, nothing ever felt so heavy.”
Natasha had heard a few things in passing about the two individuals from Steve’s past. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the best friend who tragically died during the war. And Steve’s sister Y/N -- There had been much less info on her. A nurse who’d supposedly died young from illness just after Steve had gone into the ice. There had not even been medical reports, just a death certificate. The whole record, or lack thereof, rubbed Natasha the wrong way. It was all just too neat. But she didn’t want to press Steve while he was still processing his grief, so she let it go.
“Steve, you can always talk with Clint or I about anything your feeling...” her voice trailed off. She couldn’t imagine what Steve’s therapy sessions were like trying to adjust to a new century and cope with the deaths of his two closest loved ones.
“I know Nat, thank you for calling... it is nice to hear a friend’s voice,”
“Goodnight Steve, maybe ask Henry in IT for help with the tech stuff”
Steve chuckled, “I’ll think about it, goodnight Natasha, good luck on your mission, let me know when you get back,”
Somewhere in the Andes
The snow in the mountains was thicker than Natasha had expected. Lying in the snow, she squinted to the adjacent cliff a few hundred yards away. The sun was harsh in her eyes and it was hard to be precise. Cursing, she slipped the STARK tech snow goggles out of her pant pocket. The billionaire was testing avengers gear for high altitude and had given her a prototype to test.
The only giveaway of the bunker was a single patrol posted outside. The slits of the goggles gave her the sight to distinguish between their cream-colored gear and the pure white snow of the mountains.
It was time to move. She left her vantage point, closing the final few feet to the guard.
With silent steps, the spy swiftly launched herself at the man, incapacitating him instantly with her electro-bites. Only stopping for a moment, to pick up the man’s keycard she made her way over to the entrance. The steel door opened without issue.
The stench of mildew and rust hit her immediately upon entering, the brisk wind and clean air left outside. The long hall in front of her was dimmed, cobwebs clinging to each corner. The place looked... abandoned.
Her boots made no sound as she slipped through the first hallway, gun drawn. She didn’t hear any other voices nearby as she slowly moved forward. It didn’t make sense. Why have a guard if there was nothing here?
Pushing deeper into the mountain, a split in the hall made her pause. Something tugged in her gut telling her to go right. She followed the feeling.
A light emanated from the other side of a sharp corner. Still being cautious, Natasha crept closed, her back skimming the wall so she could keep an eye in every direction. A sudden break in the dead air told her she was not alone.
Natasha eased her head just far enough around the corner to glimpse the source. Two men stood in a lab, whispering softly to each other.
Reaching into her tactical pocket, she carefully withdrew her silencer, screwing it to the front of her handgun. She didn’t hesitate. Two bullets, two bodies dropped.
The room became still once more. The whispers ending with the echo of the discharge of her gun.
Natasha walked slowly into the room, crouched low, scanning for any other threats. Nothing.
Taking a quick scan of the worktable, nothing of note caught her eye. Maps of the region, receipts, other scraps.
She then moved to the file cabinets. The first two drawers opened with ease. Each were lined with neat folders. Most were stamped in harsh red ink: [STATUS ABANDONED] or [STATUS INCOMPLETE]. She would make a note to have send a secondary squad to catalog these.
However, one thing was becoming clear. These files were old. Some covers were torn or creased. Others had spots of yellowing or even mold.
Natasha huffed at the prospect she flew all the way to South America for a box full of decades old Hydra plans.
But why the guards? Why would anyone be here if it was a glorified storage locker?
Reaching down, her hand slipped on the third drawer as it thudded harshly against the inner pin. Locked. She raised her eyebrows in intrigue, finally something worth hiding.
The metal drawer gave way after a few sharp turns of her pick set. These files were ancient.
Pulling out a stack, she dropped them on the steel workbench behind her, rifling through a few. Each had a list of timestamps on the front, some not being updated from as far back as the 80s.
And then, her eyes narrowed. The file in her hand originated from the 1940s but had a timestamp from just a few weeks prior. [PROJECT LAZARUS] was stamped across the top in harsh red letters.
She flipped it open and began reading. There was a record of medical procedures, mainly reconditioning sessions.
OPERATION RESURRECTION: ACTIVE. Subject administration successful.
OPERATION LONG WINTER: SUCCESS. Sample Extraction successful. Sample Duplication in progress.
[Redacted] INTEGRATION: SUCCESS. Maroon level conditioning.
OPERATION COLD FRONT: ACTIVE. Subject assigned secondary role of recovery in the event of containment breach. Last retrieval completed, 1985. Temporary decommission in Cryo.
Natasha’s eyes narrowed at the last entry. Her fingers flipping through the rest of the pages, trying to decipher the meaning of the codenames. Then, a photograph slid loose from between the pages. The old image was grainy and faded from years of wear. Natasha could barely make out the silhouette of a person, blurred and non-distinct. She stared at it too long; a familiarity she couldn’t place was itching at her brain.
Huffing, she set the file down, shivering. She pushed the ghost of a memory down. Her gut told her whatever was in here wasn’t just another small Hydra project.
Looking around the lab once more, there was an entryway to another chamber. It led deeper underground, the air growing colder as she pushed further in.
Pipes rattled overhead and icicles hung from the cavernous hallway. Natasha held her gun raised in alert.
Then she saw it. A row of chambers lined the wall laying like coffins. They appeared empty, the glass cracked, wires loose. But one still hummed faintly.
Natasha approached, taking a gloved hand she cautiously wiped across the fogged glass. She had to hold back an instant scream.
A face was staring back at her.
Natasha froze in shock, it was whoever was in that file, it had to be. Her gut churned with unease.
“Director,” She slowly spoke into her comm, not taking her eyes off the frozen figure. “I’m going to need back up here,” her words were quiet, as if she could wake the figure encased there. “You’re going to want to see this,”
S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters
Steve rushed down the hall of S.H.I.E.L.D. It had been the middle of the night when he was awoken by Natasha’s phone call.
“Steve,” her voice was near panic, a tone he hadn’t ever heard before.
“Nat?” he had been frightened that something had gone horribly wrong on her mission. From his calculations, she should be on her way back from Argentina.
“I need you at headquarters. Now.” She urged.
“Is something wrong? Has someone been injured?”
Her voice came sharp, like a bullet. “We found another Super Soldier”
By the time he arrived, it was close to three in the morning. The place felt unusually deserted, only a few emergency staff lingered.
Fury and Nat were waiting for him in the level eight clearance wing. Their expressions were tense as they greeted him.
“What do we know?” Steve asked mechanically, eyes bouncing between the two spies.
“Female subject, unknown age, unknown origin.” Natasha began clinically.
“Hydra? Or a prisoner?” he asked, Steve’s mind was spinning at the idea of another Red Skull. A threat he had thought left behind in the last century.
“We don’t know yet,” Fury commented. “She’s conscious and alert, but either she can’t remember or won’t talk about what happened to her,”
“You woke her up?” Steve asked in surprise, unsure if that was the right call.
“Well, we woke you up,” Fury answered matter of factly,
“We couldn’t transport her in cryo,” Natasha cut the Director off, eyeing Steve cautiously.
Fury dropped a file folder on the table in front of Steve. The cover creased and yellowed from years of wear. “From what we can tell of her rap sheet, she’s clearly tactical. But we have no intel yet on who trained her or when she became involved with Hydra.”
Steve glanced over the details on the page in front of him, eyeing the training level specifically. Maroon. His was mind running through possibilities and his eyes snapped to Nat’s face questioningly. She shook her head silently in response, signaling she didn’t know.
He cleared his throat. “Scars? Injuries? Anything that might tell us what she’s been through?”
Natasha now nodded. “She has scarring on her hipbones and thighs, maybe from experimentation, but it is impossible to tell what was going on internally due to enhanced healing.” Steve’s stomach lurched at that information but listened as Nat continued. “Other than that, she seems to be in good shape and coherent.”
She locked eyes with him. “But evasive,”
Steve nodded slowly. “What about, —”
His words were cut off by the sound of a door opening. A nurse in full dressing and protective gear stepped out. “Director, we gave her a mild sedative and fluids to aid the dehydration, but there seems to be no other immediate physical impairments.”
“Thank you,” Fury replied, gesturing to door with his arm. The three of them walked through the corridor, stopping in front of an observation window. The door hissed shut behind them.
Slowly, Steve leaned forward, peering through the glass.
And froze.
“Natasha,” his voice cracked painfully.
The young woman cuffed to the hospital bed in front of him had sunken eyes, her roughly chopped hair now dyed a deep shade of brown. But the slope of her nose, the stubborn line of her jaw....Steve had seen those in the mirror his entire life.
Steve shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving the figure ahead of him. The air felt like it was sucked out of the room.
“Steve?” Natasha called out to him, her tone uncertain. She gazed at her friend and then back at they mysterious woman in the exam room.
He swallowed hard, his voice shaking with shock and disbelief at the ghost that had appeared in front of him. “That’s my sister,”
Notes:
Be warned, I love Natasha Romanoff. Apologies for no Bucky this chapter -- soon.
Chapter Text
New York, 1943
The city buzzed around you. Car horns blared, crowds of people hustled through the streets, music hummed from a band on the boardwalk. But you didn’t seem to notice any of it
Bucky had your hand, fingers twisted up with yours as he pulled you off the busy street and into the corner store.
“Saw this the other day,” he spoke with a boyish grin on his face. He nodded toward a tiny photo booth in the corner of the shop. It was painted red, with big bulbs decorating the outside. “Got me thinkin’, we don’t have any photos of just the two of us. Need at least one before I leave.”
You smiled at him, tension blooming in your chest as you did. Before I leave. As much as you loved him, you hated the sound of those words, and a knot suddenly twisted in your throat.
But Bucky’s glowing smile, pressed the somber feeling out of you, his warm hand pulling you into the small booth, the curtain falling back into place shielding you from sight of the outside world.
Inside the bench was small, you practically had to sit on his lap and his hands gripped your waist keeping you in place.
The close proximity to him was extremely apparent as you felt his breath ghost your skin. The air around you felt hot, and a blush creeped up your neck at the contact between your bodies.
“Cozy, huh?” Bucky grinned up at you with a lopsided smile.
“Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this,” you teased, moving to jab an elbow at his stomach.
He was too fast for you, catching your arm with his hand and pulling closer. Your back was now fully pressed into his chest, his other arm now secured fully around your waist.
“Smile sweetheart,” he whispered softly, in your ear as he pressed his cheek to yours and gazed at the camera in front of you.
The first flash popped, capturing the two of you beaming. A timer clicked, letting you know the next photo would come in the next few seconds.
You both turned instinctively, locking eyes. Your smiles shifted as you looked at each other, changed into something tender, something only the two of you shared. The second flash popped.
Bucky raised one hand, cupping your cheek, his forehead hitting yours. He let out a breathy, incredulous sigh. Your mind was buzzing at the thought of him. That he was finally and singularly yours.
Then he leaned in, kissing you slowly and with certainty. Not a simple peck, it was as if he was trying to convey every feeling to you through the press of his lips. Your heart fluttered, the breath stolen out of your lungs just as the third and final flash lit up the booth.
A light moan escaped you, humming against his mouth. Your fingers, gripped the back of his neck, ghosting the ends of his hair. One of Bucky’s hand landed on your waist, keeping you locked into his body.
That was the moment it finally hit you. The weight of it all, the truth the two of you had tried to dance around for weeks. Bucky was leaving. In just a short few weeks, he was leaving for training. And after that, he’d be shipped overseas. No return date, just a hope of being lucky enough to return.
Finally, you pulled back just slightly to rest your forehead against his. Afraid he might vanish from under your touch.
The machine whirled, the photos dropping into the collection slot. Neither of you dared to reach for them yet.
“James,” your voice cracked. “Promise me,” you swallowed hard, tears threatening to escape “Promise me.... you’ll find your way back to me. No matter what”
Bucky breathed in sharply,. “I will.... I have to” he said paused sighing softly as he brushed his thumb across your check. “you’re the best part of me,”
S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, 2014
“I’m going to talk to her,” Steve spoke finally.
“Steve...” Natasha began, a cautious look on her face as she shared a look with Fury. “I don’t think that...,”
Fury cut her off, turning to Steve directly. “What Agent Romanoff is trying to say, is that it might not be the best idea for you to speak to each other right now. Let her get settled and further evaluated to see what she remembers.”
Steve shook his head, holding up a hand at the director. “No,” he spoke suddenly. Fury for the first time since knowing Steve was taken back by the captain’s harshness. “She’s my sister. I’m not going to stand on the other side of this glass while you poke and prod her like an animal. If anyone can reach her, it’s me,”
“Steve....” Natasha tried again, placing a hand gently on Steve’s arm. “I get it, I really do,” She paused, glancing at the woman in the exam room. You were awake but kept glancing around. Every now and then tugging at the wrist restraint that held you to the bed.
“But what if she doesn’t remember you? What if all she knows is what Hydra did to her,” Natasha whispered the last few words. “You need to be prepared for that, and you know better than anyone what they are capable of,”
Steve swallowed looking at you in the next room over. Behind the obvious changes caused by the serum, he still only saw you. His sister, once full of light, now frightened and experiencing a whole new world alone. “Then I’ll remind her.” He spoke carefully. “I’ll help her remember, because she deserves more than to be an experiment.”
Natasha and Fury just looked at him, their gazes hard. Both knew they were not going to win this battle.
Steve moved toward the door before they had another second to argue with him. He looked one last time at Natasha, who gave him a final look of sympathy. She nodded slightly, a quiet confirmation that she would be watching in case anything happened.
The room was deadly quiet when he walked in. The only sound came from the gentle hum of the lights overhead and the small beeps of the vital monitors.
You didn’t move or even glance up when he entered; exhausted from the nurse’s tests and your body still awaking from the deep freeze. But he knew you were aware someone had walked in the room.
Steve involuntarily gave a sharp intake of breath as he got his first real look at you. Eyes sunken, the color drained from them. Your skin, still youthful but looked stripped of life, gray and dull.
Suddenly, your head snapped around, eyes locking onto him with deadly precision. The reaction was so fast, something he had never seen you do before.
Steve took an automatic step back at the strength of your gaze, his heart uneasy at the sight of you, gaunt and drained but obviously far from fragile. He raised his hands defensively, trying to show he wasn’t a threat.
“What is this?” your voice came quick and cautious. You stared at him, unblinking, eyes analyzing his movements.
“Y/N” Steve spoke tentatively. Your eyes snapped to his, flaring with something between fear and suspicion.
He watched as you twisted your hands, veins straining, the metal from the cuffs holding you to the bed groaning at the tension.
Steve froze, his hands still lifted slightly. “It’s me,” he spoke quickly, softly. “It’s Steve.”
Your stare didn’t waver but beneath the hardness, Steve could see the tiniest fracture, a shimmer of tears behind your eyes. You trembled, shaking your head in small, hurried jerks. “No,” you whispered. “It’s not possible... another trick,”
He took a small step forward. “Y/N” Steve tried again, as steady as he could. “It’s me, I know this seems impossible,” He paused, thinking of the shock he himself felt when he was awoken a few years prior. “But this isn’t another Hydra trick, I promise you...”
You looked like a trapped animal, eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape.
“You’ve been asleep a long time, I know you’re scared. I was too ” Steve admitted, his chest tight at the sight of you. “But you’re safe, now,”
“Safe?” your words came angry, dripping in disbelief. Your muscles coiled, straining against the restraints once again. With a final violent wrench, you tore one cuff loose, the metal snapping as if it was plastic.
Steve flinched at the sound, at the recognition of such unnatural strength. His heart sank at this final confirmation that the serum was pumping through your veins. His eyes flickered downward, your harsh movements making the hospital gown shift on your legs. And for the first time, he noticed the scarring that marred your thighs. The deep red discolorations were clinically precise. Intentional.
His heart lurched, bile rising in his throat. But he held it down, not wanting to ignite your panic any further.
Instead, Steve made a split-second decision, reaching forward, and grasping your wrist, gently, allowing you to break free if you wanted to.
“Y/N” he tried again, desperate. “Please, I promise you, it’s really me,” Your chest heaved, eyes locked on the grasp he had on you. But you didn’t pull away from the gentle contact. He carefully sank to a sitting position next to you.
“Prove it to me,” your words cracked, and the frail doubt came out like a plea.
He hesitated only a moment, thinking back decades, for a moment in time that would convince you.
“The day that our mother died,” his voice broke, “The three of us walked home from the cemetery, You, Me...” he paused, “and Bucky.”
Your eyes flashed automatically with recognition, and intensely to his face, a sharp intake of breath told him you were listening. Steve had hoped the mention of his friend and everything he had once, maybe still meant to you, would pull you back.
“We all slept in the living room still in our funeral clothes. You on Ma’s old yellow couch,” he blinked thinking back to that day. “Me in the blue chair, Buck on the floor...”
“That day was so horrible...” he spoke solemnly, pushing the lump down in his throat. “But that night, we stayed up late talking and laughing, and even after everything, it felt like it would be alright, because we had each other.”
The fight drained from your body. Your eyes flickered over him as if peeling away years, “How would Hydra know that?” you questioned.
Steve’s throat tightened, catching the single beat of hope that flickered in your voice. “They wouldn’t, so you must know it’s me,” he confirmed. “I swear it,”
Your composure cracked. Shoulders sagging as your muscles untensed, looking less like a Hydra asset and more like the young girl Steve left back in the 40s. A tear finally dropped down your cheek and you collapsed forward, throwing your arms around Steve. He gripped you tightly as you sobbed.
He looked toward the observation window where he knew Natasha was watching, he gave a slight nod on assurance.
“I don’t understand,” you whispered, pulling back slightly. “How are you here, how is this possible?”
Steve didn’t know how to explain the last 70 years to you right now, scared it would overwhelm you.
“We’re both here,” He confirmed, his voice thick. “That’s all that matters right now,”
You closed your eyes, nodding. A moment went by before you spoke once more “And Bucky?” you pleaded desperately.
Steve froze, swallowing hard. “No,” his voice broke, as if reliving the moment, he saw his friend falling from the train all over again. He recalled finding the engagement ring in Bucky’s things, the letters between you two. The pain of knowing he failed to protect you both washed over him again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m so sorry.”
Another tear slipped from your eyes; you wiped them away with the back of your hand. “I just thought that maybe...” you voice trailed off. Steve knew what you had thought. That he was here, so why couldn’t Bucky be too?
Steve glanced over you once more, gaze sticking on the scars still visible on your legs. He recalled what the nurse had said about Hydra experimentation. About how you had refused to say anything about your capture. Everyone had questions.
“Y/N?” he spoke tentatively. He didn’t want to ask but knew someone would have too eventually. “I need to know what you remember,”
You grimaced and Steve could see the gears shifting in your head.
“I’m sorry, I don’t....” your voice broke, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t remember.... there are moments...” you raised your hand, pressing the back of it to your forehead. “Things are..... jumbled,”
Your eyes dropped to your legs, tugging on the gown to cover the harsh red marks. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Steve.
“Tell me what you do remember,” Steve pressed gently, glancing back to the observation window where he knew Natasha and Fury would be listening.
You shuddered, “I remember a room... I think it’s where, where I was kept... trained” You paused on the last word. “... but I’m not sure.”
“I remember it being so cold,” You voice broke, shivering. Your hand coming up to rest on your temple. “I remember the pain... here,”
“Nothing else,” you whispered.
Steve studied you carefully, he knew there was more. He just didn’t know if your mind was not willing to remember or if you were still holding back.
“The scars,” Steve asked “Did Hydra do that, or do you remember how you got —”
“No.” you interrupted him. There was something behind your eyes that Steve knew was there. But your reaction told him he had pushed enough for the night.
“Alright. We’ll take it one step at a time.” He let out a slow breath, dropping the subject for now.
You nodded, and Steve leaned forward, hugging you another time. “We will get through this,” he looked at you, the flicker of hope still in his chest. “Together.”
“Get some rest, I’ll talk with someone about when we can get you out of here. Maybe you’ll remember things in time,” You blinked, giving Steve’s hand a final squeeze, as if you were testing to make sure he was still real. “You’re safe here, I promise,”
After a few seconds, He stood up, waiting until you leaned your head back into the hospital bed, relaxing for the first time since being recovered.
The door sealed shut behind him with a heavy click.
Natasha leaned against the table, arms folded, her sharp eyes scanning Steve. Fury stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.
“She needs to be kept off the grid,” Fury said flatly. “Hydra doesn’t have a routine of losing assets.”
Anger flared within Steve at the director’s words. So clinical. “I can keep her safe,”
“That’s assuming we can trust her,” Natashas spoke carefully, throwing a sympathetic glance at Steve. “She’s still hiding something, she knows more than what she’s saying.”
Steve’s head snapped toward her. “She’s my sister, Nat,”
Nat’s gaze didn’t waver. “And she’s also a Hydra-trained operative with the super-soldier serum in her veins. We don’t know what kind of conditioning they put her through. Or if it’s still there. Why would she be able to remember you, someone she hasn’t seen in decades, but not be able to tell us anything about where she has been or what she has been doing the last 70 years?"
“None of this makes sense.” She spoke sternly.
Steve opened his mouth to argue but faltered. His mind flashed back to your avoidance to the questions about Hydra. A part of him knew Natasha was right on some level, but he had just got you back.
“I’m not saying she’s the enemy. I’m saying she’s dangerous. To herself and to us.” Natasha spoke pragmatically, pointing to where the yellow Hydra folder sat open. “That file tells us she has done a lot more than just be frozen,”
“She woke up in a whole new world,” Steve bristled defensively, looking back through the observation window at your still form laying on the hospital bed. You looked nothing like a Hydra assassin capable of the violence Fury and Natasha were implying. “She just needs time,”
Fury cut in. “She’ll need to be watched. Safe, but off the radar, let's keep this between just a few people. Steve, you’re too close.” The super soldier turned to argue once again, but Fury raised a hand, his single eye deadly serious. “You see only your sister and are ignoring what she may have become.”
“She can stay with me,” Natasha compromised. “You can still see her whenever you want Steve, but if Hydra comes for her, you will be the first person they look at. And you aren’t exactly low profile.”
Steve hesitated; he had no rebuttal to that. This decision physically hurt but in his heart he knew it was the correct one. Finally, with one last glance at your still form, he gave a reluctant nod.
Undisclosed Hydra Location, 2014
The restrains released open with a metal hiss, the frozen air dissipating into the room as the cold chamber opened.
The man was sat into a cold metal chair; his eyelashes still glazed with frost. Harshly, a lab technician, stuck an IV into his arm, a bag of unknown fluid hung beside him.
“Welcome back Soldier,” Alexander Pierce spoke mechanically from his place across the room. He glared at the asset, receiving a blank icy stare in return. Empty but attentive. Trained to wait for a command.
“We have a mission for you,” Pierce slammed two file folders on the table next to him. “Two targets, the first you should kill on sight. The man paused.
“The other....” He shuffled the folders. Flipping the second open to stare at its contents. “Is a valuable asset that was stolen. Your job is to recover it.”
“Alive.” Pierce spoke pointedly. His voice stern and serious.
The Winter Soldier gave one sharp nod in compliance and looked blankly at the folders the director had thrown on the table before standing up.
He was ready for the hunt.
Notes:
Bucky haunts the narrative mentally and physically. Natasha always the Skeptic, Steve always the optimist.
Thanks for reading, see you next time!
Chapter 9
Notes:
Trigger Warning - violence, references to torture.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Your vision was blurred, and you closed your eyes to avoid the sting. The only feeling outside of the blood pounding in your ears was the feeling of leather straps holding your legs firm to the table.
Footsteps. They were getting closer. And suddenly, a grinding, whizzing sound filled the air around you, painfully overloading your senses. The whine of machinery, a grinding, high-pitched whizz neared closer, closer, closer, and all you could do was scream as pain engulfed you.
Blood dripped from your legs, joining the other faded, rust colored stains on the tile floor below.
Each time the doctor came and went, you tried to believe that it would be the last time. That your skin is becoming translucent and your lips bitterly blue would tell them your body couldn’t lose anything more. But each time he returned with the drill and left you with another bloody hole that the serum would stitch back together, gifting you a scar in return.
One day, it finally stopped. The doctor, the drill never came again. You overheard the scientist profess “a miracle!” But that was when the real torture began.
“Again!” A fist cracked across your jaw, slamming you to the floor. Blood filled your mouth.
Your body ached, but you stood, getting into the first form again, because staying down hurt more.
“Faster!” the man screamed at you with a boot kick to the ribs. “Another!”
Every lesson was beaten into you until your body learned to move before your mind did. Instinct overriding the choice.
And then, before you knew it, arms were pushing you into the steel box. A casket, maybe. Perhaps death was finally catching up to you. But then came a flash of something else, a flash of a face. Familiar blue eyes catching yours across a haze of snow and gunfire.
“Bucky,” you whispered at the sweet reprieve, trying your best to scream and fight off the creeping chill, before the metal encased you. The deep cold wrapped around you tighter than any restraints ever could. And suddenly, like the flip of a switch, all went dark, and you were gone.
Your lungs burned as you screamed, jolting upright with a gasp. For a few breathless moments, you tried to straighten the room around you. The moonlight from the open window gave you enough to recognize the quiet stillness of Natasha’s guest bedroom.
The sheet clung to your legs, twisting around you like restraints. You ripped it away, letting out a heavy sigh. Reaching downwards, your fingers brushed the bare skin on your legs, over the tough, scarred skin still there.
For a moment, you closed your eyes, and you shook your head, trying to release your mind from the lingering images of the nightmare. Or maybe the memory. You didn’t know.
Over the last few weeks, it had happened too often. Waking up screaming or crying. Once, you had even been sleepwalking into the hallway before Natasha had found you.
You pushed yourself up, forcing yourself out of bed, to the small desk that was in the corner of the room. A bound notebook sat atop the smooth wood, given to you by Fury, who had instructed you to document memories as they returned. Some entries were a jumbled mess of words with little direction as to what the nightmare entailed. A few more recent ones had been sharper, a few small puzzle pieces falling into place. Every single one of them had a glimpse of him. Of Bucky.
You began to scratch a few notes down, mainly about the cold, about the repetitive training, and finally the drill. Absentmindedly, your fingers found the harsh vertical lines protruding from the skin on your legs. You traced upwards, continuing over the fabric of your sleep shorts, finally stopping at the top of your hip bone. You never wrote anything in the journal about him.
Shuddering, you dropped the pen as a tear slid down your cheek. The fear came crashing down around you again. The shadows around you felt too close, too heavy, and suffocating.
Opening the drawer, you pulled out the small slip of glossy paper. The first time Steve came over to visit, he brought a box with some of your things in it. Hoping to remind you of the life you had lived before Hydra. Most of it felt alien now, ancient artifacts of a life that had been stolen from you. But nestled among them, there were a few things that brought you solace.
You smoothed the photo reel gently, staring at the frozen images. Your past self looked back at you, eyes beaming as you were pressed into Bucky’s chest, his arm secured around your waist, pulling you into him. Then the two of you looking at each other, foreheads nearly touching, sharing the same breath. And then the kiss —
You brought your hand to your mouth, running your index finger across the soft skin on your lower lip.
Flipping the photo, you reached down to trace the inscription you remember finding after Bucky left the reel on your bedside table all those years ago. “To the best part of me, yours forever. —B.”
You inhaled sharply, a tear slipping down your cheek as you turned the photo over once more. You stared at Bucky’s smiling face until your chest ached, until, briefly, the nightmare faded altogether.
“Can’t sleep?” The voice made you jump. You quickly tucked the photograph of you and Bucky into the desk drawer. Away from prying eyes. Natasha was watching you closely from the doorway.
Her gaze flicked to the desk drawer, to your journal, then back to you. “Nightmare.” You admitted, your voice still trembling.
She nodded, walking into your room and sitting down across from you. “Do you need to talk about it?”
When Natasha had taken you in a few weeks ago, your first impression hadn’t exactly been positive. She was overtly practical, clinically telling you the ground rules: You were to stay in the apartment unless accompanied by her or Steve. That you would use the journal to write down any memories that resurfaced.
It had been easy to see that she didn’t trust you at first, probably never fully would. You understood why the gaps in your memory terrified you most of all. The file she had recovered gave no clarity; you had no clue what any of the so called ‘missions’ were that you supposedly carried out.
But over the past few weeks, it became clear to her and everyone else that you were not willfully hiding anything. It was clear something had been done to make you forget. Natasha, Steve, and Fury hadn’t been able to piece it together with the little information recovered when you’d been found. All you could do now was wait for your mind to remember.
The memories came back in fragments, mainly during the night, or in flashes while you were awake. Sometimes during your sessions with Sam, the veteran counselor Steve had met, who specializes in trauma.
You hesitated, pressing your palms into your tired eyes. “They took something from me,” you whispered painfully. “Over and over again, they came back and strapped me down, draining my bones.... All I can hear at night is that drill,” a tear slipped out of your eye as the memory flashed again, your blood dripping on the stained white floor.
Natasha paused for a moment, thoughtful. Her brows pressed together. “Steve told me that the doctor who made the serum was killed. That the man who killed him was caught before he could hand over the remaining vials....” she trailed off, eyes flickering in surprise as she looked at the scarring on your legs.
Your head dropped as you looked at the harsh red marks, eyes welling with tears. “They wanted more serum,” you whispered.
The truth hit like ice in your chest, even though you’d already guessed it.
“You’re Steve’s sister, the only person they knew who successfully took the serum,” Her sharp mind put the pieces together.
Your body shook as you pulled your legs toward your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself. “If that’s what they wanted...why make me fight.... why train me if they could turn others?” Your words were broken apart by quick, uneven breaths. You were not a soldier, you were a nurse, trained to help people, not to kill.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know why they did any of it.”
For a moment, silence stretched between you. Then Natasha leaned forward, her tone softening in a way you hadn’t expected.
“I know what it’s like,” she said quietly, her eyes deadly serious. “To have people decide what you are. To be turned into something you didn’t choose. Before I knew it, the red room had made me into a weapon.”
You watched the woman, all her layers for once peeled back. Revealing nothing of the reputation her moniker had earned her.
“But,” Natasha continued. “Your past doesn’t have to define your future. We both made it out, and every day you can choose to be more than what Hydra made you.”
You were quiet in your response, your mind still thinking of the photo tucked away. Of a life you could never return to, “What if what they made me is all that’s left?”
She looked at you pensively. “Then you decide what’s next. Make yourself into whoever you want to be.”
You gave her a small smile, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. Your chest felt a little lighter at her words. Perhaps you could be friends with Natasha after all.
“Try to get some sleep,” she spoke, reaching over and patting your shoulder. “You’ll need it. Super soldier or not, I’m still going to wipe the floor with you in the gym tomorrow.” You watched the assassin retreat to her own room.
For what felt like the first time in 70 years, a small laugh escaped you, and the ache in your chest eased, just a tiny bit.
The next few days passed, and some nights you still had nightmares, but after your talk with Natasha, they felt a small amount more manageable. You took time in the day to spar at the gym with her, quickly finding your strength again. But true to her reputation, Natasha was a formidable opponent, using her skills to best you nearly every time. Her trust in you was building, too.
The museum was quiet during the midday hours. Your hair fell around your face, the baseball hat trying its best to serve as a haphazard disguise.
It was strange seeing Steve through the eyes of the world, as Captain America, rather than your brother. The exhibit detailed much of his public life as the army’s signature icon and later, when he became a leader on the battlefield.
There were only a few mentions of you, as Steve’s sibling. A few pictures of you and him before his transition. You stared at one in particular, comparing the young girl to your reflection in the glass. Barely recognizable.
You had spent the better part of an hour lingering in front of Bucky’s small exhibit. Staring at the outline of his figure, etched into the glass. His face, stoic back, a small blurb on his life next to him. You had already memorized the words.
“You know Fury won’t be thrilled if he finds out about you wandering around alone.”
You turned to find Steve beside you, hands in his pockets, staring at Bucky’s picture.
“Natasha knows where I am,” you told him. “What Fury doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You repeated what the assassin had told you when she agreed to let you come alone. “Besides, I have a check-in with the Director later today.”
Steve hummed in response, not sure how he felt about your quickly emerging connection with Natasha. The two of you sat in silence, staring ahead.
“You know, he told me about you. About the two of you,” Steve broke the silence, nodding his head at the portrait of Bucky that stood a few feet away, “When we were overseas,”
You leaned on the wall behind you, exhaling slowly as you turned your head toward Steve. “I know he did,” you whispered, thinking of how happy you had been to receive that letter all those years ago. “He promised me he would,”
Steve gave you a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I miss him, Steve,” you spoke softly, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. The hole in your chest was one both of you knew would never heal over.
“I miss him too,” Steve whispered back, reaching over to grab your hand. “Everyday,”
The hum of the overhead lights buzzed softly around you. Your heart ached as you thought about your lost love and for Steve, who had lost his best friend.
After a few minutes, you heard a soft buzz from your brother’s coat pocket. He glanced at whatever notification had appeared on the screen, brows furrowed.
“Come on,” Steve said, standing up. “Let me walk you to your appointment with Fury. I’m going that way too.”
You fell into step beside him, tugging your hat lower as the two of you made your way through the halls of the museum and out onto the streets of Washington.
The shift in Steve’s demeanor was evident after the message he had received. “So,” you began, “you’re leaving again?”
“Natasha and I,” Steve confirmed, they are sending us on another mission, something about SHIELD agents being aboard a ship.”
Your brows furrowed at the information. “I don’t understand the goal of this... Who are we even at war with anymore, Steve?” you question him skeptically.
He slowed his stride, jaw tightening at the edge in your voice. “That’s not how it works anymore, Y/N. We’re not fighting countries; there are threats all around the world. We are working to stop them before they can grow.”
You stopped walking, tugging Steve’s arm to force him to look at you. “Ambushing a ship in the dead of night doesn’t seem very peaceful to me. Sounds like control through force,”
“It’s not like that,” Steve said firmly, his eyes flickering over your skeptical face. “Just please trust me,” he knew that this was your past talking. The fear of the unknown threatening to pull you back into the darkness.
“Of course I trust you,” you told your brother, “Doesn’t mean I have to agree with what SHIELD is having you do.”
He exhaled sharply, the two of you resuming your walk toward the Triskelion. “I get it, Y/N, but what we are doing is meant to save lives. SHIELD saved yours.” He spoke carefully.
You glanced his way, your heart softening. “Just please be careful, Steve,” you told him as the two of you came within sight of SHIELD headquarters.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters
The meeting with Director Fury had been brief. He asked about your recent memory progress. You showed him your journal and explained what Natasha had deduced about your connection to the serum. There had been no hint of emotion behind the Director’s eye. Just instructions to keep tracking the memories as they come in.
You asked about Hydra and if there had been any movements. Fury didn’t respond, which told you either that there were no developments or just you were not privy to them.
It was now late in the day, and most of the workers had left SHIELD, leaving the hallways on the high-clearance level empty as you made your way toward the elevators. Steve was supposed to meet you downstairs so he could take you back to Nat’s. Before they left for their mission.
You clicked the elevator button, and you stepped inside after the steel doors opened.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand shot out, startling you. An older man stepped in, his posture relaxed, but his eyes immediately locked on yours.
“On your way down?” he asked easily, pressing a button for a lower floor.
You watched him, tightening your grip on your bag strap. Your instincts were buzzing cautiously, but you forced a smile. “Yes, just finishing up for the day,”
“Are you Nick’s new project?” he spoke, looking at you quizzically. His voice was neutral, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you were being observed. “The Director,” he added with a dry laugh. “Always forgetting to keep me in the loop,”
He extended his hand. You hesitated, staring at it, unsure how to respond.
“Alexander Pierce,” he said smoothly. His tone was almost friendly, but something in the way his eyes lingered made your stomach twist. You forced yourself to stay composed, but every nerve in your body was alert.
“And you are?” he prodded.
Your heart rate quickened as silence stretched between you, his gaze holding in a way that made it clear he was observing more than just your face.
“Susie,” you told him curtly, reaching forward to shake his hand. “Susie... Barnes,”
Pierce hummed, giving you a small smile. The elevator dinged, thankfully arriving at the man’s floor. He released your hand.
“Well...Mrs. Barnes,” he paused, drawing out the last few seconds. “I’m sure we will see more of each other soon,” With those final words, he exited, disappearing into the parking garage.
After the steel doors closed once again, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You had only been alone with Mr. Pierce for two minutes at the most, but you couldn’t shake the feeling this man knew far more than you wanted him to.
Notes:
eeep, feels like we are on the edge of a cliff with what or who is coming very soon. As always, thanks for reading!!
Chapter Text
The record player crooned out a tune as Steve tentatively stepped into his apartment. Something in the air was off, and he knew it the second his neighbor had mentioned the music – something he was certain had not been left on.
The big band instruments filled the room, the volume turned all the way up, as if to transport him back to the dance halls you and Bucky had dragged him to. It should’ve made him nostalgic for a simpler time, but Steve only felt trepidation.
He pressed his back to the hallway wall, taking slow, careful steps forward toward the source of the sound. Creeping around the dark corner, he saw a shadow sitting in his living room. The silhouette of a man hunched over in the chair.
Nick Fury, Steve recognized, looked worse than he had ever seen him. His body twisted in an uncomfortable slouch, favoring one side.
“I don’t remember giving you a key,” he said.
The SHIELD director audibly winced as he forced himself up in the chair. Steve’s eyes flickered across the man’s body, trying to find the source.
“You really think I’d need one?” Fury’s sarcasm came quick, but Steve picked up the subtle agitation in his words. He rambled something confusing about his wife kicking him out of the house.
“I didn’t know you were married,” He said.
“There are a lot of things we don’t know about each other,” Fury responded.
Steve went to turn on a light, but Fury’s hand shot up, sharp enough to freeze him. His heart rate began to accelerate as he understood the reason the director had come to his apartment had nothing to do with some imaginary wife.
Looking downward, Fury turned his phone. ‘EARS EVERYWHERE’
Steve stared at the message, then back at the Director, his heart dropping.
“I’m sorry to do this, but I had nowhere else to crash,” Fury spoke. A new message was displayed. ‘SHIELD COMPROMISED’
“Who else knows?” Steve asked firmly. His mind flashed to Natasha; she seemed to have the trust of Fury as much as anybody feasibly could.
“Just my friends,” Fury called, standing up and taking a step toward Steve. ‘YOU AND ME’ flashed on the phone. “It’s hard to find people to trust with secrets these days.”
“Did you, uh,” Steve paused, trying to think of how to ask without mentioning you. “Were you able to finish the house project before she left you?” Steve asked tentatively, hoping Fury would understand the real project he was talking about. You.
Fury hesitated for half a second before typing something onto his phone. “Unfinished,” he spoke as he angled the screen toward him. ‘I DON’T KNOW’.
Steve's stomach lurched, a lump forming in his throat.
He opened his mouth to press further, but before he could, the window behind them shattered with a sharp crack. The glass sprayed inwards, and Fury jerked violently back.
Several more gunshots pierced through the walls, embedding themselves in Fury’s body. The man shouted in pain as he fell to the ground.
Steve grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him across the floor, out of the direct line of fire. Fury groaned painfully, and blood began to leak onto the hardwood.
Through the blinds, the moonlight glinted off someone, or something, on the adjacent building’s roof.
Fury coughed up blood as Steve continued to drag him around the corner and into the front hallway. Abruptly, Fury gripped Steve’s hand, and he felt something small drop into his palm. “Don’t trust anyone,” the Director wheezed out. Sweat coated his face, and his breathing was labored.
Steve’s mind was spinning as he thumbed the USB stick. What did Fury mean by SHIELD had been compromised?
Without warning, the apartment door burst open, and Steve’s neighbor sprinted in, gun held in a ready position. He was becoming more confused by the second until she identified herself as an undercover agent.
Steve barely registered her call for medical evac. Still unsure of what he was seeing, his eyes locked onto the glint of silver outside. They asked about the shooter.
He sprang into action immediately, crashing through the window and into the top floor of the adjacent building. He didn’t think. He ran.
Through the skylights, Steve could see the same metal moving fast above him. He pushed his legs harder to keep up. At the end of the hallway, Steve saw the gunman drop down to the lowered roofline.
Seconds later, Steve crashed through a window, and the city air whipped past as his boots hit the roof. “Stop!” he shouted, immediately lofting his shield in a perfect arc at the figure’s back.
Within a blink. The soldier turned with unnatural speed. His face was obscured by a black mask. His arm came up and caught the shield with a single hand. A metal hand. The man didn’t even flinch at the impact.
Steve held his stare, dark hair bristling across his concealed face. He felt something painful and almost familiar in the emotionless gaze.
With a mechanical whirl, the soldier hurled the shield back with a force that knocked the air out of Steve’s lungs and sent him stumbling backwards.
By the time he regained his footing, the figure was gone.
Steve rushed over to the edge of the roof, looking down at the street below. A blur of black and silver vanished into an alleyway, headed toward the far end of town.
Steve cursed under his breath, sprinting back to the apartment. Fury was on the floor with the SHIELD agent. His breathing was ragged and shallow, blood soaking into the carpet.
Steve dropped to the ground, pressing his hands into the bullet wound on Fury’s abdomen. The Director’s hand shot out, clutching Steve’s wrist with surprising strength.
“Not safe,” He rasped, voice barely audible.
“I know,” Steve said, leaning closer. “We’ll get you out of here. An ambulance is on its way now.”
Fury’s grip tightened, his eyes flashing with desperation. “No,” he coughed.
“Not me,” he was struggling, his pain evident in his voice, “Her,”
Steve froze at the recognition. You. You were the one in danger. His chest tightened at the realization. He was too far away; Natasha’s apartment was on the other side of town. The same direction the metal-arm assassin just escaped to.
Quickly, Steve pulled out his phone, dialing her direct line. The line rang twice before the click told him Nat had picked up.
“Nat!” he screamed frantically, not caring if the undercover agent heard. “Are you with Y/N? Fury has been shot.... we need to get to Y/N! Now!”
Natasha’s Apartment, Across town, Washington, DC
You were standing at the kitchen island, steadily chopping vegetables, alone for the night. Natasha had been gone all day, taking some time away after returning from the mission with Steve. Her apartment was silent; the only sound was your knife hitting the wooden cutting board.
The quiet weighed on your mind as you still mulled over your interaction with Alexander Pierce. You had asked Steve about the man, but what you learned did nothing to answer the questions that lingered.
Pierce was apparently a dedicated serviceman to the U.S. government and SHIELD, having even been nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. His record painted him as a man devoted to safety and peace. Yet your gut still screamed danger.
You replayed the words he had spoken; his voice had been smooth but calculated, his eyes assessing you. And you couldn’t shake the feeling like you had seen him before.
Steve and Nat’s mission, what had it been for? You wracked your brain trying to remember. It was a hostage situation, but the facts hadn’t added up as to the pirates’ motive.
You stopped chopping, placing the knife down on the counter. You exhaled and leaned back against the island, trying to calm your mind. Perhaps you were just being paranoid. At your most recent one-on-one with Sam, he had told you that it could be a side effect for prisoners of war to be hyper-skeptical of everything around them. Your mind still thinks your body is in captivity and that the world around you is an illusion of freedom.
That’s when you heard it. A clanking noise, as metal hits metal. It was quiet, subtle, but deliberate.
Someone was twisting the front doorknob. Testing to see if it was locked.
You heard the door handle stop rattling; whoever it was stopped their attempts at opening the door. Silence blanketed the apartment once again, heavier than before. Your blood ran cold. This was no simple thief. No, whoever it was, they were here for you.
Could Natasha have forgotten her key? No. She would never do something so careless.
Your phone sat plugged in and charging on the countertop next to the stove. Rushing over, your hands trembled as you hit her number, thumbing a quick message. ‘Are you home? Someone is here.’
Placing the device down, you took one step backwards, never taking your eyes off the dark hallway in front of you. You rushed to the switch on the wall, turning off all the remaining lights. You knew the layout of this apartment better than the stranger trying to get in. The only light now came from the moonlit window above the sink.
Then, just a few rooms over, a faint scratch on a window. You took a sharp breath, listening for the next movement.
Every nerve in your body was on high alert. You abandoned your cutting board, acting with instinct as you grabbed the knife you had been using and grabbed two more small ones from the chopping block on the counter.
The sound of a muffled pop of glass breaking made you wince. You strained to listen, body going still. The floorboards creaked a room over. Someone was inside.
The apartment settled again. Too still. You pressed your eyes together hard; a familiar shiver ran down your spine. You couldn’t go back to that place. To the table with the drill or the bitter cold to waste away another fifty years. You had to make it out of here.
Moving as silently as possible away from the entrance to the kitchen, you crouched low behind the island. Keeping your eyes forward, you slid a small knife into your boot, the other into your right sleeve.
The footsteps moved slowly, each step a little louder, a little closer. Your exhale was shallow, muscles coiling tight as you gripped the large kitchen knife, knuckles white.
The steps stopped in the entryway to the kitchen.
A reflection in the dark window above the sink caught your eye. A black mask covered the intruder’s face. The only distinguishing feature was a metal arm glinting faintly in the moonlight. A bright red star scarred into the shoulder plate.
Your chest seized, and a memory splintered loose in your head. Snow falling around you. A cold metal hand gripping your wrist. A man’s panicked voice yelling your name. Finally, what sounded like a gunshot, and you were falling toward the ground.
The memory was gone before you could make any sense of it. All you knew was that you had seen him before.
Footsteps padded closer. One turn around the island and he’d be on you.
Suddenly, a shrill noise cut through the darkness. The intruder stopped. Your phone was ringing. He swiftly crossed back a few steps and picked up the device.
“Y/N!” Natasha’s voice burst from the speaker; it was the first time you had heard true fear in the assassin’s voice. “You need to get out, Fury has been attacked —”
The soldier crushed the device with one hand, the pieces crumpling to the floor and clattering off the hardwood. You swallowed hard, but didn’t hesitate.
You launched yourself up over the island, using your hand to propel yourself forward and driving a kick into the intruder’s gun. It clattered across the floor.
He staggered half a step, surprised, and you took the opportunity to pull your knife, slashing hard across the man’s upper thigh. It was shallower than intended, barely tearing through the fabric of the black combat pants he wore.
You swung the weapon downward, aiming for another strike to his flesh arm. But he recovered instantly, catching your wrist and slamming you into the stove. Pain shot through your arm, and the knife clattered away. His grip was steel.
Electricity crackled blue as a stun baton flicked to life in his other hand, the light illuminating the room around you. You grunted, struggling against his grip; there was no light behind the googles he wore.
You stomped down hard on his foot, wrenched free just enough to grab a pan, and swung it across his mask with all your strength. He released you but didn’t make a sound of pain.
Diving for the floor, you recovered the rifle he had dropped, whipping around and instantly pulling the trigger. The bullets bounced harmlessly off the metal palm, and after a few seconds, the clip was empty.
A different gun was in his hand before you could blink. You forced yourself to move, just barely making it behind the island before bullets hit the cabinet that you had been leaning against. You looked as they bounced to the floor. Non-lethals.
He wasn’t here to kill you; he was here to take you.
He stood on the opposite side of the island. You kicked a stool out blindly, catching him off-balance.
Taking the second of distraction, you ran for the doorway. Your muscles screamed, and your breath was ragged. Bruises were already forming from where he pushed you into the stove.
You sprinted toward the exit, but knew he was already gaining on you. The knife in your sleeve automatically dropped into your hand, just as he lurched toward you with his own.
Your moves almost mirrored his, like he knew what you’d do before you did it. Both of you reached with one hand to slash, the other forearm moving to block the oncoming strike.
His knife grazed your side, shallow but burning. You gritted your teeth, holding in a scream at the pain. You countered with a cut across his flesh arm, the fabric ripping and blood drawing. If the soldier felt any pain, he didn’t show it.
The soldier flipped his knife, intending to catch it in his other hand. Instincts took over, and you reached forward and intercepted the knife. It was an expert move you had drilled into you, and a second too late, you recognized your mistake.
Suddenly, his boot connected with your unguarded abdomen, and you flew across the room. His strength and stamina outmatched yours, still not fully retrained.
You weren’t going to win. Not if you stayed.
Desperation fueled you as you heaved the coffee table sideways, the object flying at the intruder. It hit his legs, hard, and he stumbled, just for a moment.
Regaining composure, his face whipped up, mechanical and precise. He paused, staring at you. The mask gave nothing away, but by the way he tilted his head ever so slightly, it felt like you were no random target. Like he knew you.
The pause was just long enough for you to bolt down the hall and into your bedroom. Engaging the lock would not stop him, and you shoved the dresser against it just as he pounded on the other side. The wood strained under the punch, splinters breaking off.
Again, you didn’t hesitate and crashed through the window. You dropped from the second story, landing hard on your left ankle. Pain radiated up your leg.
But there was no time to worry about it. Without looking back, you took off running, still grasping the stolen knife.
You were panting hard, throat burning from exertion. Without warning, a hand caught your arm and yanked you into a dark alley. You instinctively raised your knife at your assailant.
“Easy, it’s me!” Natasha’s voice came worried, her hand connecting with your wrist and gently blocking your automatic advance.
Relief hit you as you registered her face, and you recoiled, lowering the knife.
“Fury?” you panted. “Steve?”
Natasha’s expression stayed flat, but in her eyes, you saw panic. Her silence was answer enough. She shoved you toward her car. You gripped the cut on your side where blood was seeping into your shirt.
“Get in.” The two of you took off toward the hospital, and you didn’t look back to see if the masked man was following, whoever he was. But even with your fragmented memory, there was one thing you were certain of. You had encountered him before.
Notes:
Ope, I wonder who that is. See you in the next chapter! Thanks for reading!
Pages Navigation
Em_lotus07 on Chapter 1 Thu 17 Jul 2025 11:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 1 Fri 18 Jul 2025 05:01AM UTC
Comment Actions
lifestilled on Chapter 2 Thu 31 Jul 2025 12:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
Em_lotus07 on Chapter 2 Mon 04 Aug 2025 08:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 2 Tue 05 Aug 2025 06:45AM UTC
Comment Actions
Skyblueeyes1480 on Chapter 3 Thu 31 Jul 2025 09:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 3 Tue 05 Aug 2025 06:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Em_lotus07 on Chapter 3 Mon 04 Aug 2025 10:52AM UTC
Comment Actions
Skyblueeyes1480 on Chapter 4 Tue 05 Aug 2025 10:43AM UTC
Comment Actions
Em_lotus07 on Chapter 4 Thu 07 Aug 2025 11:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Em_lotus07 on Chapter 5 Wed 13 Aug 2025 10:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 5 Thu 14 Aug 2025 04:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
Dailipert on Chapter 5 Wed 13 Aug 2025 12:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
Dailipert on Chapter 5 Wed 13 Aug 2025 01:01PM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 5 Thu 14 Aug 2025 04:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
Lunitari18 on Chapter 5 Wed 13 Aug 2025 07:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 5 Thu 14 Aug 2025 04:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
Lunitari18 on Chapter 6 Sat 16 Aug 2025 08:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 6 Wed 20 Aug 2025 04:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
LoveJumpyBug on Chapter 6 Sun 17 Aug 2025 10:48PM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 6 Wed 20 Aug 2025 04:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
Dailipert on Chapter 6 Mon 18 Aug 2025 10:09PM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 6 Wed 20 Aug 2025 04:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
Em_lotus07 on Chapter 6 Wed 20 Aug 2025 10:49AM UTC
Comment Actions
Lunitari18 on Chapter 7 Wed 20 Aug 2025 06:37AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 7 Sun 24 Aug 2025 06:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
LoveJumpyBug on Chapter 7 Wed 20 Aug 2025 08:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 7 Sun 24 Aug 2025 06:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
Em_lotus07 on Chapter 7 Wed 20 Aug 2025 11:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 7 Sun 24 Aug 2025 06:40PM UTC
Comment Actions
jewelx on Chapter 7 Thu 21 Aug 2025 03:52AM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 7 Sun 24 Aug 2025 06:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
LoveJumpyBug on Chapter 8 Sun 24 Aug 2025 07:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
BinarySunsetLover15 on Chapter 8 Sun 31 Aug 2025 07:37AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation