Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

That was it, the last stone had been returned, Mjolnir returned to its proper time and Steve Rogers was ready to make his final and permanent stop in 1945, just after VJ Day.  By his calculations that would be before Peggy met her husband, the man she supposedly married, although she never took his name.  Then he stopped before pressing the control and thought for a moment, wondering if he had always returned to that year.  It was after Bucky fell, after HYDRA took him back into their clutches, and he would be well into his indoctrination and torture. 

"Shit," he muttered, realizing something.  "What was that saying?  Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." 

It hit him that he had likely been playing a rigged game.  If he kept going back after Bucky's fall, he was, at best, always going to be playing catchup.  Even with all the information he had about SHIELD, HYDRA, and Bucky, he was getting into the game too late to make a difference.  Perhaps, he hadn't been thinking big enough.  Maybe there was someone he had to save first, before he could think of saving Bucky.  The more he thought about it the more he realized the truth of it.  He would have to go back to before June 22, 1943, the date he received his serum.  A feeling of certainty filled him, and he knew this was the right decision.  Resetting the control for June 14, 1943, New York City, he pressed it and felt his body transport between the two locations.

In a blink he was suddenly in New York, fortunately in a spot where he wouldn't be seen mysteriously appearing, plus it was evening.  Good thing he wore normal clothes under the suit, although they were normal for 2023, not 80 years earlier.  Still, they were plain enough that he should be able to get from here to the Sanctum Sanctorum in Greenwich Village unhindered.  Dr. Strange had told him that there would be a package for him there, with time appropriate clothing, new identification, and money.  Everything after that was up to him as the sorcerers apparently wouldn't help much in any other way.  Peeling his uniform off he rolled it up and carried it under his arm then began to run in the direction of Bleecker Street.  When he arrived at the Sanctum he stood on the steps, looking up at the building, thinking that it hadn't changed much since the last time he spoke to Dr. Strange in 2023.  Just as he raised his hand to ring the bell the door opened, and a sorcerer looked at him.  

"Come with me," he said and waited for Steve to enter the building.  "You're early but the Ancient One said that might happen.  She wishes to speak with you before you leave."

"You know who I am?" asked Steve.

"Yes, you're the one who returns," said the man, as if it was obvious.  

Steve followed him into a reception room and sat on a chair.  He had never been in this part of the Sanctum before and had noticed that the parts he came through were different from the future.  Just as it seemed he waited all night he was aware of a presence, and he turned around then stood up at the sight of the Ancient One.

"Hello Steven," she said in her slightly accented voice.  "We weren't expecting you for two more years."

"I was ready to make the trip, but I thought of something that Dr. Strange said, about all the times I failed.  It made me wonder if I've been playing a rigged game."

A slight smile appeared on her face.  "That's an accurate conclusion.  You realize by coming early you've changed the future of this timeline."

"Just like that?" he asked, confused.

She sat and motioned for him to sit.  "Not quite, but your early arrival has sent ripples through the multiverse that weren't there before," she explained.  "These ripples will have varying effects on the events of this timeline.  A missed rendezvous, an event happening on a different date, things of that nature.  What you remember from your timeline may or may not come to pass in this one in the same way."

"It felt so right to come now.  Was I mistaken?"

"Can't say," she answered.  "You're going to have to go with your gut on this one."

"My gut has been wrong before," he muttered.

"Yes, and it has also been right, especially in regard to your friend," she said kindly.  "What you risked for him was the right thing to do."

"Then I left him behind to come back and try to stop it from ever happening."  He rubbed his face, feeling frustrated.

"It's a noble goal," she stated.  "But, as I said, you may have affected his timeline as well.  You must be prepared to let some things go and focus on the bigger picture.  It may still work out well for him, but it might be difficult at times."

"I'll do what I have to with regards to Bucky," said Steve firmly.  "Everything else is secondary."

"Even Miss Carter?" 

There was nothing he could say to that.  Before he changed the time of his arrival re-connecting with her was his priority followed by rescuing Bucky.  Then he reconsidered it and made his friend the priority.  It was too late to change back now.  He wondered if the Ancient One could read his mind because she nodded her head as if she understood.  

"Is there anything else you need from us?" she asked.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive, which surprised her.  "This is new.  What do you wish me to do with it?"

"Print off the contents so I can store them in my flat," he said.  "You must have a way to do it.  I couldn't exactly print them off in 2023 and carry them here with me."

"Very well," she answered.  "It will take some time, but they will be in your flat soon.  Shall I keep the drive safe for you?"

"Please," he asked then feeling like the visit was over he stood up.  "Thank you for helping.  I'm not letting HYDRA get away with it in this timeline."

"If it happened in the successful timeline then it happened," she smiled.  "I was supposed to help you.  Just be careful who you trust and be flexible."

With a nod she stood up and the door opened revealing the man who let him in.  He was carrying a suitcase and had a small package in his hand.  

"These are clothes to get you started," he said, without giving his name.  "Identification, money, and the address of your flat as well as the keys."

He handed it all to Steve then the Ancient One handed that sorcerer the flash drive and requested he get the contents printed off and placed in Steven's flat.  After that task was assigned, Steve was escorted to the door and he went out into the street, surprised to see it was still nighttime.  Based on how long he sat waiting for the Ancient One he assumed hours had passed.  He still had time to get settled and go out tonight to the Stark Expo.  But first he had to change his appearance a little.

By the evening he had changed the colour of his hair, using a henna product to make it darker.  He also bought a pair of plain glasses, a hat, and another change of clothes.  When he saw himself in the mirror of the bathroom in his flat, he hoped it would be enough.  Then he hopped on the subway and headed over to the Stark Expo, waiting near where his old self would show up with Bucky.  If they did it meant it was Bucky's last night before shipping off to England.  Soon enough the pair arrived and met up with Connie and Bonnie.  They watched Howard Stark's demonstration of his flying car fail, then older Steve watched his younger self go over to the recruitment centre at the Expo.  When he saw Bucky and Steve say goodbye to each other he knew the timeline on that was true and he left, heading towards the Brooklyn Antique Store.  

Avoiding the SSR lookouts he climbed up a fire escape to watch from the top of a building across the street and a few doors down.  Having already seen Dr. Erskine at the Expo with younger Steve he was hoping that Peggy was here with the General, knowing that tomorrow they would be in Camp LeHigh assessing the recruits for Erskine's serum.  For what seemed like hours he watched the storefront until his patience was rewarded and the General came out with Peggy Carter.  He could even hear them arguing, smiling as he remembered the number of times he heard them disagree about many things.

"Why weren't Stark and the good doctor here this evening?" he asked her sternly.  "You would think the top two scientists involved in this project would be here 24 hours a day protecting their research."

"You know why," said Peggy crisply.  "Everything is ready to go.  Now they need the right man.  Stark is at his Expo showing off his latest inventions and Dr. Erskine is still searching for suitable candidates."

"He has them," replied the General.  "I've found all the candidates I want; all of them good strong soldiers, who can take orders.  The latest one, Hodge.  I've got my money on him."

"He's a bully," spat Peggy.  "I've looked at his record.  He's just like all the others, muscle bound showoffs who wouldn't know how it felt to be on the receiving end of a beating."

"I don't want someone who would be on the receiving end of a beating," argued Phillips.  "I want someone who can give that beating."

"Just like HYDRA then," she said.  "You want the same thing they want."  She put her hands up when he started to speak.  "I know, you're going to tell me the only thing a bully is afraid of is a bigger bully.  Where does it end, General?"

"With us winning the war, Agent Carter," he growled, as their car pulled up and one of the lookouts opened the door for them.

As they sped off Steve smiled at how she handled the General.  She was so fearless, but she was always kind to him, even sharing things with him before the procedure.  She never showed that type of kindness to the others.  She even slugged Hodges and knocked him down when he was rude to her.  It wasn't until Steve climbed down from that roof unseen and started to walk to his flat that he thought of something.  Funny how he never noticed it before but then he wasn't the most confident person around women when he was pre-serum.  She was just easier to talk to and seemed to overlook his blunders and stammering.  By the time he got back home he was openly wondering when Peggy Carter actually fell in love with him.

The next morning, after one of the worst sleeps of his life he quickly dressed and headed out to where the bus for the serum candidates was.  Peggy and Dr. Erskine were both going to be there, although they would travel in a car together to New Jersey.  Once again he made his way to the rooftop of a nearby building, listening to the two talking as a sergeant checked in the candidates.  Both of them seemed to be visibly disappointed at the big burly men that the General had recruited.  Then young Steve arrived, barely managing his suitcase that contained more books than clothes.  Older Steve grinned, thinking of how naïve he was then.

"Ah, Mr. Rogers," smiled Dr. Erskine.  "May I present Agent Carter?  She is very involved with the project."

"Ma'am," he said, trying to project himself as confident while feeling anything but.

She looked at the smaller man, without speaking but she did smile at him, then he checked in with the sergeant and boarded the bus.

"Are you sure about including him?" she asked Erskine.  "He seems nice but he's at a big disadvantage with his size."

"With his health as well," said Erskine.  "But he is a good man.  I felt that from speaking with him.  He's not looking for glory but for a place where he can make a difference."

"Well, if the serum works its magic, it will also prove it's not the physical size of the man that's important but the heart he brings with him," she said, turning slightly so she could see where young Steve was sitting.  "You're right, though, there is something about him, something noble."

"Ah, you feel it as well," cackled Erskine, briefly.  "I could see he is of interest to you."

"I don't know what you mean," she said briskly.  "Well, we should get going.  I believe Sergeant MacRae has checked everyone in."

"Ja, you're right," replied the scientist, opening the car door for her.  

Leaning back, older Steve contemplated this first meeting between his younger self and Peggy.  As much as it bothered him to admit he had to agree with Dr. Erskine.  She was interested in him pre-serum, maybe because he was different from the other candidates and treated her with respect, or perhaps she felt sorry for him.  Either way, it was something that would nag at him.

That evening he made a decision on how to proceed.  His original plan called for him to see Dr. Erskine first and hope to find a way to get him to throw that Clemson or Kruger (his real name) fellow who shot the doctor out of the facility before he could take the fatal shot.  As he thought about it during the day he came up with a different plan.

Late that evening he stood in front of the building where Howard Stark lived and took a breath, then began climbing up the outside of the building, never stopping until he reached the top and hopped onto the terrace, looking through the large windows.  Keeping to the shadows he watched as Howard poured himself a drink and sat in front of a fireplace.  His servant, Jarvis, if memory served, came in asking if there was anything else then he bowed slightly and left Howard on his own.  Steve waited a little longer then opened the door to the terrace and stepped inside.  With a start Howard jumped up and looked at him with disbelief on his face.

"Who are you?" he asked.  "How did you get in here?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Steve.  "We haven't met yet, but you will meet me in about a week when I'm chosen to be the recipient of Dr. Erskine's serum and your Vita-Ray radiation."

"That's top secret, and no one has been chosen yet," retorted Howard, as he moved towards his counter.  "So, once again, who are you?"

Steve sighed.  "My name is Steve Rogers, and I will be the one who becomes your super soldier.  If you're looking to get a weapon, I can stop you faster than you can react.  I come from a future time, and I need your help.  There's a lot of different things that are going to happen on the day of the procedure, and I need people I can trust to make sure it doesn't happen the way it did for me."

Stark smirked.  "You trust me?  I find that hard to believe.  Not many people do."

Steve stepped closer and gestured to the drink.  "You have more of that?" Howard nodded and went to his bar pouring some into a glass, then putting it on the counter and stepping back.  Steve picked it up and drank some of it.  "Nice stuff.  I didn't like you, Howard, and I know the feeling was or will be mutual once the process changes me.  But I did respect you and I need that brain of yours to help pull this off."

"Since you're from the future I'm guessing everything works," said Howard.  "But something tells me it comes at a cost."

"It does," said Steve.  "HYDRA infiltrates the procedure, and they will kill Dr. Erskine.  I have a plan that should save his life.  But it's important that HYDRA believes he's dead, so you need to confirm that he is then get him out of there.  I know you have more labs so you need to set him up in another lab so that he can duplicate the serum in secret."

"Why?"

"Because we need to save someone from being injected with HYDRA's serum," said Steve.  "The best way of doing that is to give him my serum."

"You know that just by coming here you may have changed how this timeline goes?" said Howard, coming closer to the counter again.  "You don't belong here and that interferes with how things are supposed to work.  I'm not just a mechanical engineer."

Howard stopped at the other side of the counter, reaching below then coming up with a gun.  Before he could do anything with it, Steve grabbed it out of his hand and crushed it, dropping the pieces onto the counter in front of the surprised billionaire.  

"Really?  I tell you I'm a super soldier and you try to get the drop on me?"  Steve shook his head in disgust.  Then he stopped and bowed his head before looking at Howard with anguish on his face.  "If you don't help me then in December of 1991 my friend will be ordered by HYDRA to follow you and your wife, intercept your vehicle, and steal five pouches of the super soldier serum that took you 45 years to replicate.  It takes you that long to duplicate Dr. Erskine's formula.  My friend will be told to leave no witnesses.  He'll do it because of the way they programmed him after they forced him to become a super soldier.  He will have no choice but to obey but when he gets his right mind back it will torture his soul.  Believe it or not I'm trying to save your life, Howard."

Steve drank the rest of his drink and put the glass back on the counter, watching Howard take in this additional information.  A voice behind him startled both of them.

"I think you should help the man, sir," said Jarvis, who stood there with a gun, but lowered it.  "But that's just my opinion."

"Alright, I lie and say that Erskine is dead, then set him up in a lab to make more serum," confirmed Howard.  "Then what?"

"What do you know about prosthetic limbs?" asked Steve.  "Not the kind with a hook, but one that looks and acts like an arm with a working hand.  If you start working on it now do you think you could invent something?"

Howard opened his mouth then closed it and looked at Jarvis before looking back at Steve.  "It's not my field of expertise," he admitted.  "Why would you ask me?"

Steve sighed audibly then decided he had to come completely clean to convince Howard Stark to cooperate.  "If I have changed this timeline then things might happen at different times from when they happened in my timeline.  My friend may or may not need a new arm.  I can tell you with certainty that HYDRA will have a fully functioning prosthetic arm and hand before 1950.  It will be a monstrosity with one purpose, to be an instrument of death.  He'll need a better one to live a normal life and you're the only guy I know with the genius to make one or maybe I was too hopeful."

"You think I'm a genius," smirked Howard, grinning at Jarvis.  "He thinks I'm a genius.  Well, I am a genius and I accept your challenge.  Besides, if this war has shown anything it's that a lot of men are going to come home needing a new arm or leg.  It could be very profitable for me.  But I'll do it for you, Rogers, because I can see you're trying to save a friend and save me and my future wife in the process.  What about HYDRA?  If they're still around in the 1990s we obviously don't defeat them in this war."

"That's just it," said Steve.  "We thought we did but they got sneaky, and they infiltrated the SSR, the military, the government and industry.  They came that close to taking over completely but my friend, who they were using to do it, changed sides and I promised him when I came back here from 2023 that I would make sure they didn't take him this time.  Without him, I don't know if they'll succeed with another PoW, but if we help him before they take him then we may have a fighting chance."

This time Howard Stark looked intently between Steve and Jarvis, then offered the super soldier his hand so they could shake hands on their agreement.  He also offered him a place to stay, thinking he may want to stay out of the public eye.

"I already have a place, but I would rather have your help in another way," said Steve.  "I want to be close to the action, especially once you go overseas.  I'm sure a guy with your pull can help me in that regard.  There are other people I need to find and try to prevent their deaths.  Another thing, I have identification ... don't ask how I got it, but in this time my name is Steven Grant.  You'll have to refer to me by that name."

Howard sized him up for a moment.  "The serum that your friend kills me for ... is it successful?"

"Not exactly," said Steve after a long pause.  "Your serum still works like Dr. Erskine said his would.  It makes the good man great, but it makes the bad man worse.  They give it to an elite death squad, all of them hardened killers.  They're uncontrollable because all they want to do is kill and hurt anyone they come across.  Even HYDRA realizes they're a threat and they knock them out, then put them into cryosleep, never using them again because they have no way to control them."

"And the Vita Rays?" he asked.  "That was my contribution."

"No, HYDRA just injects it," replied Steve.  "You and Dr. Erskine gave me multiple injections at the same time then turned on the radiation and it hurt, it hurt bad.  But I had spent my whole life being sick, hurt, or near death so many times that it wasn't that hard to endure.  It was basically my last chance at doing something worthy, so I withstood the pain.  HYDRA gave the injections over a longer period of time, but it was just as painful for the man receiving it.  He also underwent intensive torture and brainwashing during the treatment.  Their version of the serum is different than yours so maybe it didn't need the radiation.  Maybe the one you came up with didn't need it either."  He gave out a frustrated breath.  "I've already told you too much.  How do I know I can trust you, Howard?"

"You don't but then I don't know if I can trust you, either," replied the billionaire.  "Just seeing you crush that gun means you must be telling the truth about being a super soldier.  Your friend, you said he was a good man, yet they were still able to turn him into a killer?"

Steve nodded.  "Years of torture and brainwashing were needed but the serum kept repairing the brain damage they inflicted on him.  Memories of his past kept him aware that he wasn't who they said he was.  The guilt he feels for all that he did for them ...."

His voice trailed off as Howard studied him.  If he was being honest, he still wasn't quite sure about the man's claims but Howard, as a ruthless entrepreneur had a lot of experience knowing bullshit when he heard it.  This man wasn't bullshitting.  

"You say that you know me, but you don't like me," said Howard.  "Why is that?"

Steve sighed, not wanting to spell it out.  His dislike of Howard Stark had originally been linked to the man's interest in Peggy but he had also helped Steve get behind the lines to rescue Bucky and the captured 107th soldiers.  His work on weapons, bullet resistant uniforms and more had helped the Howling Commandos many times over.  

"Truthfully, it was because of your interest in Peggy Carter," said Steve.  "Your attitudes about women, around her, expecting her to fall for you.  She tolerated you and if you think about it, you'll know I'm telling you the truth.  But you also helped me rescue my friend and a lot of other soldiers behind the lines.  You helped the unit we formed after that rescue, a unit that went after HYDRA in a big way.  So, yes, I did dislike you initially, but I also respected your work and your drive.  You did do the right thing often.  Call it a poor Brooklyn kid's natural dislike for a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth."

Jarvis, still there, smirked, then made his face appear neutral when Howard looked at him with exasperation.  

"Well, you're right about Carter, at least," said Howard.  "I'm not used to women ignoring my overtures and she's ignored every one of them.  Do you and her ...?"

"We danced around it," admitted Steve.  "But I fell before we had our first date, deliberately crashed an aircraft full of bombs.  They didn't find me for over 65 years."

"The serum kept you alive that long?" Howard whistled.  "Is that how your friend survived?

"Something like that," replied Steve, not wanting to go into detail on how HYDRA did it.

"Why didn't you parachute from the plane before you ditched it?" asked Howard.

"Didn't have a parachute and I wanted to make sure it didn't land in a populated area," answered Steve.  "Look, I really have told you too much and I can't tell you anymore, not at this point.  I should go.  You'll be around?"

Howard nodded.  He knew his innate curiosity could push this Steve Rogers or Grant, whichever name he wanted to go by, too far.  There was so much information this man had; information Howard could use to profit from.  If he played along with this guy, he could monetize his obvious knowledge to Stark's advantage for a long, long time.

After saying goodnight to the two men, Steve took the elevator down to the main floor then ran back to the flat in Brooklyn.  When he got there and unlocked the door, he was surprised to see several filing cabinets already in the living room, all locked.  There was no key, but the sorcerers wouldn't have left them there unless he could access them.

"I wish I knew how to open you," he said out loud to the first cabinet.  

A book suddenly appeared on the top of one the cabinets and he picked it up, noting it was titled Arabian Nights.  Peeking out from the top was a bookmark, placed in the chapter of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.  Reading the story, he smiled at how simple they had made it for him.  Facing the first cabinet he said the words "open sesame" and the lock made a sound.  Pulling the drawer open he saw the files, all in order.  Closing the drawer, he said the words "close sesame" and heard a locking sound, confirmed when the drawer wouldn't open.  

Placing the book on his nightstand Steve undressed and got under the covers of the bed, then turned off the light.  He realized he was hungry and got up to check the icebox, finding some sandwiches already made.  Sitting at the small table in his boxers he wolfed down three of them, washing them down with a bottle of milk.  He was going to have to remember to eat.  There was so much to do, so many things to keep on top of; it didn't seem so daunting when he first thought of returning.  But now that he was here he realized that it was going to be a balancing act of sharing just enough information to get the help he needed.  By his original timeline it would be four months before Bucky was taken by HYDRA the first time.  He hoped beyond hope that his early arrival hadn't change that.

Chapter Text

June 21, 1943, the night before pre-serum Steve Rogers is transformed.

Abraham Erskine performed one final check of the equipment. As the last one in the lab, he always felt it was his responsibility to make sure everything was safely secured before he left. Stepping up the stairs he turned off the lights and headed out through the security station, signing his name at the bottom of the list where everyone else had already signed out.

"Goodnight, Doc," said the MP.

"What was his name again?" thought Erskine. Ah yes. "Goodnight, Sergeant Perkins. Keep everything safe, we have a big day tomorrow."

With an informal salute Perkins acknowledged Erskine's words and pressed the buttons that would allow the scientist access to the store front where an undercover agent would let him out. A car was waiting for him, dropping him off in front of his building in Queens about half an hour later. Stepping out of the car into the cool night Erskine started up the steps to his flat when he felt a hand at his elbow and a deep voice in his ear.

"Keep going to your flat," said the voice, "I won't hurt you, but we need to talk. Many lives depend upon it, including your own."

The voice seemed familiar and devoid of threat. No weapon was visible and although the man was big, he didn't force Erskine, rather he seemed to be attempting to be letting the doctor guide him. When they got inside the building the doctor tried to see the man's face, but he was wearing a hooded jacket that kept his face hidden.

"Who are you?" asked Erskine, suddenly unwilling to enter his flat with the man.

"You'll know soon enough," said that voice which Erskine was sure he had heard before. "Doc, I'm not here to hurt you but we don't have much time."

With a sigh, Erskine unlocked the door, stepped inside, and turned on a lamp before the man closed the door behind him. Expecting to hear the sound of a gun being cocked Erskine turned to face his fate and almost had a heart attack when he saw the man facing him, his face fully revealed.

"Hey Doc," said the super soldier, waving his hand at the same time.

"Mein Gott," said the shaken doctor, stepping backwards. "Steven? But how is it you look like this? Tomorrow is the procedure but ... I don't understand."

"You still have some of that schnapps?" asked Steve, moving towards the kitchen.

"Ja, in the cupboard," said the man, sitting heavily down in an armchair, still not believing what he was seeing.

Steve pulled out the bottle and two glasses pouring each of them a good amount. He handed Erskine his glass while sipping his own drink, sitting near him. Then he leaned close to the scientist.

"I'm going to give it to you straight," he said. "I'm breaking a lot of rules doing this, but I don't care. If I can stop what happens to you tomorrow and what happens to Bucky later, it will save a lot of people's lives. Doc, I'm from the future."

Steve thought Erskine took the news quite well considering what he just revealed. He pursed his lips slightly, took a drink of his schnapps, and leaned back in his chair before saying anything.

"Bucky, that is your friend who went to war after the night we met?"

"Yeah, that's him," replied Steve. "He'll be taken prisoner by Johann Schmidt and Armin Zola. You can guess what they'll do to him."

"They have a serum?" asked Erskine, seeming surprised. "How?"

"They make a copy of yours from Red Skull's blood but it's not as good and what they do to Bucky with it is the stuff of nightmares. Even though he's rescued once, they get him back again and this time they finish the process. It will take him decades to escape HYDRA but while he's under their control he does terrible things, things that will allow them to almost take control of the world. What he was forced to do for them will haunt him. I promised him before I returned to this year that I would stop them but to do that I'll need you to help him."

"Of course, I'll help him but why isn't he brought to me after he's rescued?"

"Because tomorrow you'll be killed," said Steve, placing his hand on Erskine's arm. "A HYDRA agent planted with the Senator will shoot you after setting an explosive off. With the security as heavy as it is I won't be able to get into the lab, but I have something that will save your life."

Standing up Steve took his hooded jacket off followed by the shirt he wore underneath. Erskine drew his breath in at the sight of the garment Steve wore. It was obviously a uniform of some kind, but it was completely foreign looking to Erskine.

"It's bulletproofed which means you'll live," said Steve, "but I want it back because I have other things I need to do after, and I'll need it. I've already brought Howard in on this because HYDRA has to believe you died and he'll be able to set you up in a private lab to replicate more serum. If I don't get to Bucky before something else happens to him then I'll also need Stark to help fix Bucky."

"What about Miss Carter?" asked Erskine. "Should she be told?"

Steve blushed. "No. It seems I came back for her multiple times, then apparently, I came back more times for her and to save Bucky, but all those attempts failed," he said, as Erskine looked at him in confusion. "I don't know any more if she belongs with me or the other Steve, the one you change tomorrow. It doesn't matter. My priority now is to save Bucky, a good man who didn't deserve what happened to him." He looked down at his hands. "He followed me, Doc, into the gates of Hell but he fell there, and HYDRA turned him into something terrible even though he fought it for as long as he could. I have to stop them, not just for him, but for all the lives they took until 2014. Once I do that I can rest and live my life the way I want to."

"Alright, I'll wear this under my clothes tomorrow," said Erskine, gesturing at the bulletproof suit. "You'll find me after?" Steve nodded. "There is more isn't there?"

"There is but one thing at a time," said Steve. "Saving you is the first thing that has to happen. Doc, you can't let on that you know about this version of me. I'll be going by the name Steven Grant in this timeline. Once we get Bucky saved, I'll be working on saving a few other of HYDRAs victims."

Steve showed the doctor some cellophane packages made by Howard Stark to fasten under his regular suit but above the bulletproof suit, assuring him it was only to make the illusion of his death more realistic. Erskine accepted them without hesitation then poured some more schnapps for the two of them, inviting Steve to stay and talk. Unlike the persistent questioning about the future that Howard subjected him to, Steve's conversation with Dr. Erskine was centred more on how the serum had changed him, specifically whether it had made him better. He described how he ended up in the future, a man out of his time. Never one to blow his own horn, the information that the doctor really wanted had to be dragged out of Steve by careful questioning. He had his own reasons for wanting it, thinking that if Steve's friend was injected with his serum there might be complications, especially if he had the HYDRA version first.

June 22, 1943

There was a slight amount of awkwardness when Howard Stark and Abraham Erskine arrived at the secret lab underneath the streets of Brooklyn on the Tuesday morning. Both men already knew what they had to do, having been briefed by Steven Grant, the new identity of the Steve Rogers from the future. During the week Grant had arrived almost every night at Howard's penthouse, always at the same time and in the same way that he did the first time. Two nights before the procedure Howard was already waiting for him on the penthouse terrace.

"I can't believe you just climbed up the side of the building," he said. "Made me think of King Kong."

Steven smirked. "You're no beautiful damsel, Howard," he quipped. "I just want to make sure you're still in on this."

"I am," replied the billionaire inventor. "It occurred to me that we're going to need visible proof of Erskine being hit by the bullets. I phoned a friend of mine in the movie business, and they suggested we tape some small packages of fake blood inside Dr. Erskine's suit that will make it look like he's bleeding."

"You didn't tell them why you needed to know that?" asked an exasperated Grant.

"Of course not," replied Howard. "I'm not stupid. I know how that would look. Basically, I asked how realistic it could be portrayed in a movie before the censors stepped in. Said I was thinking of producing a war movie but what was the point if I couldn't make it look realistic. My friend gave me the formula and everything. Here they are, already made up. Dr. Erskine just has to fasten them on his chest where they won't be visible."

Howard handed Steven several cellophane packets, full of a syrupy dark red liquid. When Steven passed them on to the doctor, explaining their purpose, he accepted them without question, stating it was good they had Stark in on the deception.

After winking at the scientist when they both arrived early on the day of the procedure, Howard quietly reminded the man how he just had to tap them with his hand to burst them, making the bullet holes look fatal. As he turned around, alerted to the arrival of Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers, Howard almost couldn't contain himself when he saw the younger man walking down the stairs towards the capsule, as it was the first time he saw the original candidate in his pre-serum state.

The small and fragile stature of the man as compared to his future self was proof of the success of the formula and he wanted to shout out the fact to everyone, but Erskine gave him a look that brought him back down to earth. Keeping his excitement in check, Howard played his part while Erskine spoke calmly to the young man as he laid on the capsule platform. When the procedure started and young Steve began to scream, Howard almost lost his nerve, but Steven told him exactly what would happen and how he had to react. When the power was finally shut down and the capsule opened to the god-like physique of the transformed Steve Rogers he was in awe of the accomplishment. Truly, they had achieved something that could change the war. Then all hell broke loose when Mr. Clemson from the State Department, later identified as HYDRA agent Heinz Kruger, set off the bomb in the viewing gallery, took the final vial of serum and opened fire on Dr. Erskine.

Still excited by the success of the procedure, Erskine almost forgot to react properly especially once he was actually hit by the bullets, then fortunately touched his chest where the bullets hit and triggered the first one, remembering to touch the others. The transformed Steve Rogers bent over him, and Erskine said his "last" words to the changed man before closing his eyes. Stark took over then, as young Steve went in pursuit of Kruger, confirming Dr. Erskine's imminent death then making sure that Erskine was hustled out of there to an ambulance with Jarvis as the attendant and a disguised Steven Grant at the wheel. Instead of transporting him to a hospital he was brought to another Stark lab that had been in mothballs but was now set up to continue the serum research. While Jarvis made a second trip to Erskine's apartment to bring his remaining possessions from there to the new location Steven helped the scientist inside to change out of the soiled clothes.

"You did good, Doc," he said, as he examined the fake blood-stained uniform.

"I almost forgot to hit the blood packs," said Erskine. "The excitement of the successful transformation made me hesitate. Do you think the others bought it?"

"As long as HYDRA does, that's what's important," replied Steven. "There's a chance we may have to enlighten General Phillips at some point, but he won't be in the right frame of mind until after Steve rescues Bucky and the 107th."

"About that," said Erskine. "I have a concern about the other serum your friend may be given. You said you believe it was based on Red Skull's blood?"

"Yeah," replied Steve. "Why?"

"There could be differences in compatibility between the two," he replied. "Differences that might cause problems. If I just had the formula for it, I could possibly compensate but you would have to break into Zola's lab to get that information. It would be dangerous for you."

There was a reason Dr. Strange told Steven to bring all of the HYDRA files to the past, just for this very contingency. Dr. Erskine would need them to make a serum that could counteract any of the side effects of Zola's serum. Even if Bucky didn't get that treatment there would likely be others who did, and they would need the new serum for all of them.

"I don't have to break into Zola's lab. I already have the files."

Erskine looked at him with surprise then with understanding. "You brought them with you. How were you able to do that?"

"Can't really say, but there was a way and they're in file cabinets in my flat," replied Steven. "There's only one thing. Only you and I can have access to them. Under no circumstances is Howard Stark to be made aware of them."

"You think he is with HYDRA?" asked Erskine, concerned.

"No, he's not but he's still motivated by money," answered the super soldier. "I'm hoping he'll come around to something more altruistic, but I could tell he believes he can get future knowledge from me, knowledge that he wants to use for his own gain."

Erskine couldn't disagree with that and he concurred to not say anything to the billionaire inventor. Steve showed Dr. Erskine how Stark had built an apartment with the lab so that he could live and work without the risk of being seen. Jarvis would shop for him, purchasing groceries, supplies, and anything else he needed.

"You'll have to work mostly on your own for a while," said Steven. "Can't risk HYDRA finding out that you're still alive."

"What about you?" asked the doctor, concerned. "You have prevented my death. What will you do now?"

"I'm hoping Stark can find a way to get me over to Europe," replied Steven. "I'll need to be there. Before that, I'll bring the information you need. Then I have to do some research on some certain people that the Nazis will conscript and assign to HYDRA. They aren't true believers and will try to work against them from the inside."

"But eventually they will be found," stated Erskine, shaking his head, sadly. "I was fortunate that Agent Carter was able to spirit me away. It will likely be harder for others to do it."

Steven smiled grimly. "That's what I'm going to try to do." He looked at the red stain from the fake blood on his Captain America uniform. "I need to change the colours on this as well, make it less obvious. I'm not Captain America anymore."

"I might be able to come up with something," smiled Erskine. "What colour would you like? Blue, black?"

"A dark blue, perhaps," replied Steven. "Although black is fine, except I don't want to be mistaken for a HYDRA soldier.

He cleaned off the fake blood while Dr. Erskine took stock of his lab. All that he needed were his notes from the old lab. When Jarvis and Howard Stark arrived with everything else, the scientist breathed a sigh of relief. As the assassin had taken the final vial of serum it meant they had to start all over again, but with his notes and the knowledge that his formula worked Erskine was sure he would be able to replicate it in good time. Whether it would be soon enough to help Steven's friend Bucky was another matter, but he would do his best to help.

That night Dr. Erskine sat up for a long time, writing out the results of Steve's transformation, full of anticipation for what it could mean to the war effort, to humanity, to be able to have more good men to protect the world from the bullies of the Nazis and HYDRA. Howard Stark sat in front of his fireplace, drinking his expensive scotch, that Jarvis poured before bidding good night to his employer. The billionaire, already a man of great influence, was foreseeing a time when he was in a position to control the market on the serum. As part of the weapons he already produced with Stark Industries, it could be a tool to keep the right people in power. If he could get Steven Grant on his side, there was an opportunity to pick his brain for the future possibilities in weapons and armaments. Once the Nazis were done, the Russians would fall into line and the world would be safe from aggressors like them forever, while America, with him helping behind the scenes, would be poised to be the dominant country of the world for a long time.

In his little Brooklyn flat, Steven Grant reflected on the first accomplishment of his new life in the 1940s. Saving Dr. Erskine had been the right thing to do. He was certain of that, of it being the first step of many. However, he was going to need to keep an eye on Howard Stark. Even back at the new lab he had seen the hungry look of the billionaire engineer, recognizing the same look in Johann Schmidt's eyes when the latter boasted about his vision for the world. Why was it that powerful men like them craved even more power and control, considering themselves the only ones capable of steering history? He kept thinking about it as he laid on top of his bed, before closing his eyes.

He was on the third helicarrier, facing the Winter Soldier, whose intense glare indicated he was focused solely on his mission, killing Captain America. Once again, Steve tried to reason with him, tried to speak to Bucky, his best friend since childhood, who was somewhere behind that blank face and ice blue eyes. Their bodies grappled with each other, punctuating the effort by trading punches that felt like battering rams. As he pulled the cards out of the slots to insert the new card in that would allow Maria Hill to order the large vessels to fire on each other Steve felt the sting of bullets as the Soldier shot him. After more brutal fighting he finally succeeded in inserting the card and signalled Maria to give the command. The Soldier wasn't going to let him leave but he wasn't going to leave without Bucky. As the aircraft tilted dangerously towards crashing into the ground both men fell, and the Soldier was trapped. With all of his strength Steve lifted the beam that trapped his friend who repaid the favour by attacking him again, brutally beating him, even though he had injured his arm. Repeatedly Steve called him by name, saying they were friends, and he wouldn't fight him anymore, refusing to fight back.

"You're my mission!"

Over and over the Soldier screamed those words at him as he hit Steve repeatedly with his metal fist until he poised with his fist overhead, ready to deliver the final, killing blow. Then Steve gave him permission to finish it, to kill him, because no matter what he was with Bucky until the end of the line. As far as Steve was concerned, he was there at the last stop, ready to get off the train. Just before he fell through the broken glass, Steve saw a flicker of recognition in the Soldier's face, a hesitation, a memory maybe of one of the numerous times that Bucky came to his rescue, when his big mouth got him beaten up by a bully.

He still had no memories after that until he woke up in the hospital with Sam Wilson sitting beside his bed, dozing. Still dreaming, he suddenly had printouts in his hands, from some spy satellites that captured images of a dark-haired man, dressed in black, with a silver arm, dragging another man in blue out of the river, then leaving him on the riverbank. He remembered when he was finally strong enough to stand and look out the window, he saw that dark head of hair duck down behind the top of a building across from the hospital, knowing that the man was standing watch for him. Giving Bucky permission to leave him behind was hard, but necessary, as his friend had to save himself and get away, before HYDRA recaptured him, or before he was shot on sight by the police.

It took another two years to find him, two more years of healing in Wakanda, then for five years Bucky was gone, along with half the world's population. In his dream, Steve felt a profound sense of loneliness, of being a solitary man out of his time who began wishing he was back in the 1940s. There were the memories of the files, all the files that various agencies had on Bucky, proof that many of them knew who he was and did nothing to rescue him or even to recognize him as a PoW.

"You left me behind, twice," said Bucky, shown as he was just before Steve left him for good. "Once in the ravine and again in 2023. I'm not worth it, Steve."

"Leaving you behind in 1945 was my mistake," replied Steve, looking at his long-haired friend. "I'm leaving you now so I can save you and stop it from ever happening."

"It's already happened for me," he countered, running his hand through his hair. "I still went through it, still lost my arm, and I'm still alone in a world that is loud, confusing, and where I know I don't belong. Nothing will change for me, except you won't be here."

"You're alive, you have a new arm that works, and you know that Sam will help you. So will the others. They care about you, and I know you'll meet someone. You're Bucky Barnes, God's gift to women."

Bucky smirked. "Punk."

"Jerk," smiled Steve, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder.

He realized his eyes were wet and put his hands to his face, while turning to Bucky who faded away, leaving him alone in the dark. Snow started falling, then a wind came up, and he was once again in the Valkyrie, after he crash landed it on that glacier. With a nod, he accepted that this was the price he had to pay for his own redemption.

With a start, Steven woke up feeling almost like he did when he had an asthma attack when he was a kid. Turning the covers back he put his legs over the side of the bed and sat in the dark, rubbing his chin. He had never been much of a dreamer and even though he knew he likely had PTSD it had always manifested itself in irritability, and a need to keep busy. Even though he wouldn't call this dream a nightmare it still raised questions. Did he blame himself for not looking for Bucky in the ravine? According to the files he lay there for almost two days before he was found. If Steven had only known that his friend had received the serum, he would have gone back for him. If this timeline's dates were different Bucky might be captured by HYDRA at a different time. He might also fall into the ravine at a different time. Either way, that meant he had to be where Bucky was. It could also mean that if he was saving Bucky, then he should save Steve Rogers as well. It was only right.

Chapter Text

Final week of September 1943. Main US Army base, somewhere north of Rome.

"Special Agent Grant, I don't need someone from military intelligence telling me how to do my job," drawled an irritated General Chester Phillips, looking at the man in front of him.

"Sir, with all due respect, my job is to advise you of the possible consequences of the orders you give, especially when they involve full units of soldiers, like the 107th Infantry," replied Grant, who had showed up about a month previous with orders from General Eisenhower himself to provide information to the General on the deployment of HYDRA forces in northern Italy, near the border with Austria.

The fact they were forged orders hadn't yet been discovered. Nor had General Phillips, Agent Peggy Carter, or anyone else who had been in the secret lab when Dr. Erskine was killed been able to notice more than a passing resemblance between Special Agent Steven Grant and Captain America, Steve Rogers, currently finishing up his war bond tour in the United States before coming to Europe to entertain the troops. No one that is, except Howard Stark, already in the know, who had been able to pull strings to get Grant a legitimate commission equivalent to that of a Major in the Counter Intelligence Corps (known as Army CIC). This was the same division that would implement "Operation Paper Clip" at the end of the war, taking custody of German scientists before the Russians did and bringing them to the United States to continue their work. It was the same operation that would allow Arnim Zola free reign to continue his research, an event that Steven Grant wouldn't allow to happen.

It helped that Grant's hair was now dark, and he wore glasses. Like other agents of Army CIC, he wore plain clothes, except for a U.S. collar insignia, to signify he had a rank. He wore a fedora hat and had grown a beard to further disguise his appearance. Unlike other agents he didn't speak another language but with Howard's help did find a young corporal, David Rose, whose name was provided to him in 2023 by an American Romani leader who had helped Bucky get to Bucharest in 2014. Apparently, Rose was known to have been involved in undercover work during the war. Fluent in German, Polish, and some Russian, as well as the Roma language, Rose became Grant's translator, and right-hand man in the army camp in Italy, where General Phillips oversaw the deployment of the land army infantry units. That future Romani leader, a man named Jovan Sakić, provided a list of words and symbols to the former Steve Rogers, that would identify him to Rose as a man to trust implicitly. Getting Rose transferred to Army CIC after finding him had been easy, again with Stark's help.

There were times when Grant wondered if this part had happened before as he navigated through this timeline trying to change it enough so that Bucky didn't get taken prisoner in Azzano. Right now, as he looked at the stubborn general, he resisted the urge to grab the man by the throat and shake some sense into him.

"You see, that's what bothers me about you," said General Phillips, interrupting Grant's thoughts, placing his stony gaze on the agent. "Your fixation on the 107th. They're infantry, Special Agent Grant. They're supposed to go into the field, fire their guns, and meet the enemy on the battleground. If you were a real soldier, you would know that."

"Sir, I served," answered Grant, struggling to stay respectful. "I've seen my share of battle, more than my share. That's why I do what I do now. I make sure that no one is sacrificed if they don't need to be. You sending the 107th into the Azzano area to form a second front could result in them being surrounded, cut off from reinforcements, and almost certainly end in major casualties and capture. Why submit them to that if the objective isn't important?"

"All objectives are important," declared Phillips. "That's been decided by better minds than you or me. They're already halfway there so they're the only ones who can be sent in. Now if you don't mind?"

Just like that Grant was dismissed and he stepped outside the tent where Rose was waiting.

"No dice, huh?" asked the brown-haired corporal. "Explain it to me why it's so important to delay the 107th?" Grant glared at him. "Right, you'll be interfering with the natural order of things. You being here has already done that." Grant looked at him with some alarm. "Relax, I heard you and Stark talking over a whiskey. The man isn't exactly discreet when he's had a few."

Taking the young corporal by the arm Grant led him to an area out of earshot. "Just what is it that you think you know?" he asked Rose.

"I think you know about stuff that hasn't happened yet," he said carefully. "It started with the symbols and words you gave me. No outsider I know of is aware of what those words mean to a Roma. Another Roma would have had to give that to you, and no offence, Grant, but you don't seem like the type who would be in with my people. How did you know my background? It's not on my enlistment papers so someone had to tell you and no one in my family would, unless I was needed for something big. I'm not going to blow your cover. I just want to know what's going on."

The taller man looked around, making sure they were still quite alone. "You're right, the words and your name were given to me as someone I could recruit to help me in this time," he said, fixing his gaze on Rose. "Have you ever heard of HYDRA?"

"Yeah, Nazi science division, headed by a guy rumoured to be crazy," said the corporal. "They're up to some crazy shit as well. There are rumours he uses Jews, queers, Roma and PoWs as slave labour and as subjects for experiments."

Steve nodded, realizing Rose knew a lot more than the average soldier. "If the 107th are sent to that northern front it won't work," said Grant. "Most of them will be killed or captured and taken to a HYDRA factory in Austria as slave labour and for several unlucky few, subjects in a project to create their own super soldier."

"You know that as a fact?" It was said as a statement and a question. "Are we going in to hit that factory?"

"It will be hit but not by us," said Grant. "I'm just making sure that the 107th aren't sent in there too early because the guy who does go in to get them doesn't get here for another month. Unless things have changed ...."

Corporal Rose smirked. "My kirvi, my godmother, sometimes sees things," he said. "She's a drabarni, a seer. She'd pull one of us aside at a family gathering, or a wedding, and say she dreamed that we did something or that something will happen to us. Before Pearl Harbour, I was at a gathering and all of the men were sitting, having a drink while the women prepared a feast. My kirvi calls to me. Čhavo, that means boy, come, I must talk to you. Until I get married, I'm considered a boy." He looked up at Grant to make sure he was paying attention. "Someday, you will be in Italy as a soldier and a gadžo, that's a non-Roma man, will need your help. It is meant to be, it is kintala, which is kind of a pairing that balances things. So, I'm here to be your guide in whatever you need to do because what you are doing here is patjivalo, honourable. You can tell me more, if you trust me, but if you don't, I'll still help you. Do you understand?"

Steven nodded, puzzled by this Romani soldier who had so far done everything he had asked of him. Although he had tried to keep the man somewhat at arm's length he realized that perhaps he was meant to confide in him. His knack for languages, and ability to scrounge resources had already proven helpful.

"I'm here to keep my friend from being taken by HYDRA, although that's seeming to become more difficult," said Steven. "I'm also here to prevent some people from being killed, including a pair of Polish-born sisters. They're part Roma, through their mother. They've already been conscripted by the Nazis and will be forced into HYDRA, against their will. In my ... time ... they tried to help my friend who was taken by HYDRA to become their super soldier, completely under their control. Obviously, I'm trying to prevent that from happening to him but I'm also trying to prevent their deaths, and any other people they have as the subjects of their experiments."

"So, you're not from this time?" asked Rose, tentatively.

"Not exactly," said Steven, deciding to go all in with the man. "I was but I ended up frozen in a glacier for over 65 tears. When I was awakened it was the future and I didn't know that my friend had been a prisoner of HYDRA all that time." Rose frowned, not quite understanding. A couple of soldiers were walking nearby, and Grant stopped talking for several minutes before resuming. "Originally, I was Steve Rogers, Captain America. I'll try to change it so the current Captain America, also Steve Rogers doesn't end up in that glacier. So, I'm him but a future him but obviously not the him he is now ... does that make sense?"

A grin spread across Rose's face. "No, but Kirvi Marie said I had to help you so I will. Even if it doesn't make sense. But if you're looking for two specific women of Roma descent, well, that might take some doing. Do you know where they are?"

"I know their names and the countries where they were killed but my coming here may have changed the times." Steven shrugged. "I have leads but basically I'm working on faith here."

"Alright," said Rose, as if he was all in. "We could probably do with some others. I can keep an eye out for the right sort of person, open minded people. It doesn't necessarily mean Roma but you're going to need a team of some sort for us to get to certain places. Let me know where and when things were supposed to happen, and I'll see what I can do."

He stuck his hand out and Steven looked at it. "Is this some secret Roma handshake?" he asked dubiously.

"No, it's just a regular one between two men who have agreed to work together," said Rose, then he muttered. "Secret Roma handshake. Where did you hear that?"

Grinning at each other the two men headed towards the Jeep that had been assigned to them. Rose was right about one thing. This was too big of a job for one or even two men. Special Agent Steven Grant needed to form his own group of open-minded people who could help him find the people that needed saving. He just hoped that Bucky's capture didn't happen this early, well before the USO tour and Steve Rogers arrived to undertake the rescue. That rescue is what led to the Howling Commandos, something that was necessary to the overall task of eliminating HYDRA before they ever infiltrated further. Grimly, he remembered what the Ancient One told him after his arrival that was two years earlier than was expected. It was possible he couldn't stop Bucky from being captured but he still had to look at the big picture, of keeping him from becoming the Winter Soldier.

"Special Agent Grant?"

He knew that voice, having dreamed of it for years. Even when she was an old woman in the throes of dementia it held his attention. Turning to the dark-haired Englishwoman approaching them he tried not to let his thoughts betray him.

"Agent Carter," he replied. "How can I help you?"

"What was that all about?" she asked. "Do you have intelligence on HYDRA movements that we don't?"

"What makes you think I was talking about HYDRA?" he countered. "I didn't mention the name."

"You didn't have to," she replied. "General Phillips is right about one thing. You are fixated on the 107th."

"I read the casualty reports. They've lost about a quarter of their men and now they're going up against some very experienced units of the Wehrmacht. Nothing good will come out of it." She stood there staring at him until he sighed, realizing he had to give her something. "I'll admit that I know some people in the unit. Good men who will give their all. There's nothing in the regulations that says I can't be looking out for our soldiers."

"I didn't think that was a function of Army CIC," she answered guardedly.

"I'm not a regular agent either," he admitted. "Let's just say I've been given the latitude to act independently at times. I may have intelligence that you don't." She began to interrupt but he put his hand up. "I don't have permission to share that intelligence as it may put the sources of it in jeopardy. That's all I can tell you."

Both he and Rose got into the Jeep as she came up to the side of the vehicle. "Then tell me this much," she said, pulling a paper out of her pocket, showing Captain America's upcoming itinerary. "Why did you have this?"

Grant looked at it and allowed the edges of his mouth to curl up in a slight smile. "You've been in my quarters. Let's just say that I disagree with General Phillips decision to leave the man back home, playing at being Captain America. I think he should be given the opportunity to be what he was supposed to be." She looked at him, surprised. "I know all about him, about the process, about the serum, the Vita-Ray radiation. I'm in intelligence, Agent Carter. It's my job to know. When he gets here, I want him to show the world that the war effort needs him. Have a good day, ma'am."

He smiled at her, then nodded at Rose to drive, leaving her standing there, wondering how this strange man from the Army Counter Intelligence Corps knew one of the biggest secrets of the United States war effort. There was something else about him, something familiar, but so far she hadn't been able to figure out what it was. She looked at the itinerary. Whatever Agent Grant was up to it had to have something to do with Steve Rogers, of that she was certain.

Somewhere north of Rome, Italy - 107th Infantry Regiment, last week of September 1943

The company wasn't going to like it, thought Sergeant Bucky Barnes as he left the command tent with the lieutenant and three fellow sergeants. Even the West Point graduate was fuming and stopped to take a cigarette pack out of his pocket, offering one to each of the sergeants and lighting theirs before lighting up his own. They all took a drag then Lieutenant John Heston looked around them to make sure no one was close by.

"Well," he drawled, "at least we know what the objective is. How the hell we're supposed to achieve it with our numbers is beyond me."

Barnes said nothing; neither did the others. It wasn't their job to contradict the lieutenant, especially when he was right. Taking another drag of his cigarette Barnes looked around the camp of newly erected tents, glad they had those finally. Those tents had followed them for weeks as they fought north from Rome, pushing back against the German Wehrmacht infantry divisions but only catching up with the 107th now, giving them decent shelter, including showers and a real mess tent. But now ... now they were being rushed back into action instead of being allowed to rest, heal from their wounds, and wait for reinforcements, as they were down to about 15 men per squad, instead of the 20 each that originally made up the four squads of A Company. The two other companies were facing the same issue. Going north towards the Gothic Line, the plan was to break through and fight right up to the Alps bordering Austria. It was supposed to be a pincer move, cutting off the German divisions still in the eastern half of Italy. Sure, it might work, but with their numbers Barnes doubted they could hold that line long enough. More likely was the chance they would be surrounded by the Wehrmacht and slaughtered.

"I'll give the guys in my squad the bad news," he said to the lieutenant. "At least we get two nights in the tents and hot food."

"Thanks," said the young officer, gratefully. "Gentlemen, I'll see about getting some extra ammo and rations. We're going to need it."

Nodding at each other, Barnes and the other sergeants left Heston there. He felt bad for the guy, as he took his first command seriously and had gone out of his way several times to make sure the men had what they needed. When you got right down to it, he was just as much at the mercy of the generals who thought up this cockamamie scheme as the enlisted men were. As he approached their grouping of tents, he saw Dum Dum sitting out in front of the one they shared, whittling a piece of wood; trying to make another whistle for one of his kids, probably. Even out here, thousands of miles away he was still a doting father. The big man looked up expectantly at Barnes.

"Sarge? What's the news? Are we getting a break from the action?"

"Not likely, Corporal," he said, making Dum Dum wince, as Barnes only ever addressed him by rank whenever it was bad. "Gather the men to meet here asap."

Ten minutes later Sergeant Bucky Barnes had his squad gathered around him. He looked at Dum Dum and Gabe, guys he had been close with through basic training. Most of the others had also been at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin for basic but he didn't get to know them well until they shipped out. A couple of guys were transfers from other units; ones that had been decimated in action. In the three months since they arrived, they had been in the middle of some pretty heavy fighting, going non-stop since landing in Salerno. He coughed, feeling some congestion bothering him, pretty sure his cold was going to get worse before it got better.

"What's the deal, Sarge?" asked Hoskins, a guy from Yonkers. "Are we waiting on reinforcements?"

"No, we're not," admitted Barnes. "We'll get tonight and tomorrow night here then we're back out in country. All three companies. We're headed towards the Gothic Line."

There were groans, not that he could blame them, but it was his job to make sure everyone was ready to do theirs.

"Stop being moaning Minnies," said Barnes. "The lieutenant is going to get us more ammo and rations. Make sure you take as much as you can carry. Wash your socks, check your boots for leaks, make sure your weapons are operational, you know the drill. If you want to write home, do it now or tomorrow morning at the latest. Mail goes out at 16:00 tomorrow. Hand your letters to Corporal Dugan before then. Any questions?"

"Yeah, how do we get out of this chicken shit outfit?" asked Spumoni, a nickname meaning "ice cream" as his real last name was Spinosi, another Brooklyn boy.

"When you find out let me know," joked Barnes. "That's it, that's the announcement. Dismissed."

There was still some mumbling but the others, except for Dum Dum and Gabe, dispersed. Gesturing with his head to follow him, Barnes went inside the tent. Taking his cigarettes out he offered them each one, although they lit theirs up themselves.

"Bucky, how bad is it?" asked Dum Dum.

"We could end up surrounded on all sides," he replied, tiredly. "No chance of reinforcements either. I'm only telling you because I trust you two not to say anything. If I buy the farm, I would appreciate you writing my parents. I'll do the same for you."

"Anyone else?" asked Dum Dum.

"Yeah, Eleanor Warren and I are still friends," smiled Bucky. "Thanks. You can write to Steve Rogers and send it to my parents. They'll make sure he gets it."

The other two men headed out leaving Bucky there as he laid back on his bunk. These latest orders were crazy. They were already low on numbers, plus many of them were fighting illness, either colds like him or worse, dysentery. Still, those weren't considered reasons to stay back, not unless you passed out in front of the general. Even then the stone-faced old bastard would tell you to shake it off. Bucky reached into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out the group picture of his parents, his sister Rebecca, and Steve.

"Glad you're not here, buddy," he said out loud. "Wish I knew what you were doing."

His mother had written him about Steve suddenly being drafted into a special division of the army. It was all hush hush but at least he was back in the States doing whatever it was he was doing, and not here where the conditions would likely kill the little guy. A fit of coughing overtook him again and he rolled onto his side, hoping it would lessen. Fuck, he felt like shit.

Two days later the men of the 107th boarded trucks, heading to a rendezvous closer to the front. They were replacing another battalion; one whose numbers were worse than theirs. Those lucky bastards would get the ride back to the base camp while the men of the 107th would begin advancing deeper towards enemy lines. For several weeks the three companies pressed forwards, fighting many battles against the Germans and pushing the line closer towards Austria. With more casualties and injuries that sent soldiers off the line the luck of all three companies of the 107th finally ran out in the third week of October. As feared by Special Agent Steven Grant most of the 107th Regiment became surrounded by five mortar divisions of the German army, near the village of Azzano in northern Italy. They were pounded relentlessly by the bombs, losing many of their commanders, including Lieutenant Heston, in charge of A Company. Barnes, aware that B Company wasn't yet surrounded ordered contact be made for support from them, but their radio had been rendered useless by shrapnel damage. Before he could send a runner, they came under attack by an advance of the German infantry unit attached to the mortar division and retreated to the craters left behind by the mortar attacks, to begin what looked like the final defence of their position.

Out of the darkness blue flashes of light sped towards the German infantry, vaporizing the soldiers as they were hit. Puzzled by what seemed to be support of their position the remaining men in the 107th stood up, watching as a behemoth tank came over the rise, firing at the now retreating German infantry. Suddenly, it stopped, then the turret turned towards them. With several men yelling to take cover in the craters left by the mortar blasts the remaining members of the company huddled there, defenceless against the strange cannon that shot those blue flamed flashes. As quickly as the attack happened it ended and Bucky Barnes, along with the others still alive in his company, were surrounded by troops dressed in black armour-like coverings. As these strange soldiers pointed large rifles at them, seemingly powered by a glowing blue component, the Americans heard a word, aufgeben being yelled at them.

"They want us to surrender," said Private Gabe Jones, fluent in German. "Bucky, what do we do?"

The young sergeant grimaced. "Tell them we surrender. What choice do we have? We can't fight against those guns."

As they were rounded up Barnes asked Dum Dum to estimate a head count. While they were herded away from the battlefield they could see the dead, as well as the other survivors being brought to their position.

"As best as I can tell there's about a hundred of us," said the corporal. "There aren't many from B Company in the dead or in this group so maybe some of them got away and can bring reinforcements to rescue us."

"From that tank?" asked Barnes. "You saw what that cannon fired. We've got nothing that can defend against that. Our war is over, Dum Dum."

More German was yelled at the Americans by the mystery soldiers which Gabe translated into an order for the survivors to march. At first, they stumbled in the dark, overwhelmed by the carnage around them. As more orders were given to increase their pace it seemed anyone unable to keep up were shot and the healthier soldiers began supporting the weaker ones. After marching for what seemed like a long time they were finally ordered to stop and allowed to sit. It was then that transport trucks arrived, and they were loaded into them, jammed shoulder to shoulder, even sitting on the truck bed. It was a rough ride that lasted hours. When it ended and the truck flap lifted from the back of the truck a blast of cool air hit them. Stepping out of the trucks as best they could the men saw they were at a large facility, surrounded by forest and the mountains.

"Where are we?" asked Gabe, in German, receiving a blow to the head for his trouble.

Bucky and Dum Dum sprang to his defence and were both hit down as well, sent to their knees with rifles poked into the back of their necks. At that moment Bucky began coughing and was hit again. Raising his hands in total surrender he calmed himself and was helped back up by Dum Dum and Gabe. The order was given for them to move, and they were shoved through a doorway, into what looked like a factory. As they were pushed and herded through the space, they noticed the workers were PoWs, definitely against the Geneva Convention. Dum Dum brought it up and received a shove in his side that had him ready to fight.

"Easy, Dugan," said Bucky, putting a hand on his arm. "These guys aren't German. Look at their uniforms. They have an octopus symbol with a skull for the head."

"What do you think it means?" asked the big man.

"I don't know but they don't seem to care about treating us right," said the young sergeant. "I need you, Dum Dum, so take it easy."

The prisoners finally reached their destination, a series of round cages with a walkway above it. There were no beds, or chairs, or bathroom facilities. Whoever these people were they didn't seem bothered with treating them as people and Bucky began wondering just what was going to happen to them. The three of them were pushed into a cage with two men already in it. Dugan fell against the one and the man, an Englishman, pushed back against the bigger man, telling him to bloody well stand up. That brought Dugan's fists up, ready to fight the Englishman, a major, by the look of the insignia on his collar.

"Stand down," wheezed Bucky, as he doubled over, coughing again. "Don't waste your energy on fighting amongst ourselves."

The major relaxed then pushed his hand out to Dugan. "My apologies, Corporal," he said precisely. "Major James Montgomery Falsworth. The bastards have been forcing us to compete for food, water, everything. Your sergeant is right that we should stick together."

Dum Dum nodded and grasped the man's hand, shaking it once. "Dum Dum Dugan. What's the deal with these guys?"

"They're called HYDRA," said Falsworth. "Originally the deep science division of the Nazis but their leader has set himself against the Nazis. This factory is in Austria and they're using PoWs to build their weapons and machines. This facility is under the command of a sadist named Colonel Lohmer. Try to avoid his notice. He has killed several men just for displeasing him."

The others introduced themselves but when Bucky began coughing again Falsworth looked at him with concern.

"Try to get better," he suggested. "I know that's an impossible task in these conditions but if you show weakness they will treat you worse. There's a scientist here, a Dr. Zola, who has been performing experiments on the prisoners. He takes the ones who can't work anymore and we never see them again."

Bucky nodded and stood up. From what Dugan told him when he did a head count, he was the highest-ranking soldier left of the 107th Regiment. The other lieutenants were dead or had escaped and there was just him and one other sergeant who was worse off than him. Those who were left of the 107th were his responsibility now and he didn't want to lose anyone. He just hoped that some of B Company managed to escape and would be able to raise the alarm about HYDRA. These guys needed to be stopped but at least they could sabotage what was being built in the factory until they were rescued. At least that was his plan.

Chapter Text

The first survivors of the battle at Azzano began drifting back through the lines a day after they narrowly escaped becoming prisoners of HYDRA. They told the commanders in that forward division that first noticed the approach of the survivors of being separated from the other companies in the 107th, unable to contact them by radio. There were also reports of blue flashes of light coming from the distance, accompanied by the loudest tank sounds any of them had ever heard. As they were being transported back to the main command base to be debriefed, Special Agent Steven Grant and his right-hand man Corporal Rose were stuck in the stockade.

Word of them trying to recruit certain soldiers with special skills had reached the ears of General Phillips. Already peeved at the audacity of Grant in questioning how Phillips commanded the forces under him, the general had sent a letter to General Eisenhower asking why the Army CIC agent was being inflicted on him. The response he quickly received, disavowing any knowledge of Grant's special mission, other than verifying his agent status, resulted in Phillips issuing arrest orders. Since then, Grant and Rose had been cooling their heels in the stockade, which was actually a tent with a barred enclosure inside, and a continuous guard at the entrance, for three days. Every attempt by Grant to request an audience with Phillips was ignored and he almost contemplated escaping custody using his own enhanced skills to expedite that. Then he received a visit, hearing her voice before seeing Agent Peggy Carter enter the tent.

"Carter," he said by way of a brief greeting. "Did the general send you?"

"No, I'm here on my own," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I have some questions for you."

He huffed a little and rolled his eyes; Rose watched the two with interest. "What do you want to know?"

"Why were you really interested in the 107th?" she asked.

There must have been something in the way she asked as he stood up and came over to her, standing inside the makeshift bars that had been set up in the tent.

"What's happened to them?"

"They were surrounded by German mortar divisions and infantry," she stated. "Then there were reports of weapons that fired blue flashes and a glimpse of the biggest tank any of the survivors recalled ever seeing."

"Prisoners?" he demanded angrily. "Were they taken prisoner?"

"Over a hundred, possibly more," she said. "Less than 50 have returned and they report being overwhelmed with German mortar divisions before their lieutenant ordered their retreat as they were cut off from the other two companies."

"Which companies were taken prisoner?" he asked, his face set in stone. She didn't answer and he snapped. "Which companies?"

"A and C Companies," she answered. "What's left of them at least. Those that got back were in B Company."

He looked back at Rose. "A week early," he muttered. He looked back at her. "The USO tour, with Steve Rogers. Where is it, right now?"

"Finishing off in Salerno, then on to Rome before it's on its way here," she said. "Should be here in five days, first show the morning after they arrive."

He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, then noticed how closely she was watching him. Putting his glasses back on he focused on her.

"Can you get us out of here?" he asked.

"Not without getting in trouble myself," she said. "I don't trust you enough to do that."

"Fair enough," he replied. "Can you get Steve Rogers involved in rescuing the 107th? I can tell you exactly where they are. You'll have to use Howard Stark."

Grant was expecting her to be surprised by all of that, but she actually smirked. "Why doesn't any of that surprise me? You knew this was going to happen, didn't you? That's why you've been asking about the 107th movements. You're not a Nazi spy who gave them up. You were trying to stop them from becoming prisoners."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he replied cynically. "Is that what Phillips thinks we are, Nazi spies?"

She nodded. "He contacted General Eisenhower to ask about your orders advising him on HYDRA intelligence. Eisenhower knew nothing. Yet, you are a legitimate agent of Army CIC with a surprisingly unknown past. Who are you, really?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," replied Grant. "But if you can get Rogers to agree to attack that HYDRA position then I'll tell you what I can." He looked back at Rose who seemed surprised. "I actually think she already suspects who I am. I would just be confirming her suspicions."

The dark-haired woman stared at him. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do." When he finished outlining his plan to her, she shook her head as if to reject his suggestion. "I'll likely be court-martialled for this. You realize that."

"No, you won't," replied Grant. "The worst he can do is send you back to England, although British Intelligence can likely arrest you." He grinned. "You have to believe that this is how it has to happen. If Rogers is successful, all will be forgiven."

"What about you?" she asked. "You're just going to sit here?"

"It's not my first choice but I will," he answered. "Just get him here as soon as you can. It's important that Steve Rogers does the rescue. It sets in motion a lot of the successes against HYDRA, but it has to be him that does it."

She sighed but agreed to do her best. After she left Corporal Rose came to Grant's side.

"What happens to us?"

"I honestly don't know," replied Grant, gesturing to the bars. "This is all new to me. I've been told it works out, but I have to keep my eye on the ultimate goal, rescuing Bucky and defeating HYDRA. Everything else is secondary."

Two days later Grant woke up to a surprise visitor. Sitting on a stool in front of the bars of their makeshift jail was General Phillips. Nudging Corporal Rose to wake up, Special Agent Steven Grant stood up and faced the worn out looking senior officer.

"Sir," he said, in a neutral tone.

"How did you know about the 107th being surrounded and the majority of their soldiers being taken?" asked the older man. "You warned me of it happening and it happened exactly how you said."

"Yes, sir, so I've heard," replied Grant. "I would like to tell you, but you won't really believe me."

"Try me," said the general.

Looking back momentarily at Rose, Grant placed his hands on two of the vertical metal bars and began to pull them apart. Reaching for the horizontal cross piece that connected the two bars together he snapped it then continued pushing the vertical bars far enough apart so that he could step out. Almost at attention he stood in front of the general, waiting for his reaction.

"You're showing me that you could have escaped anytime you wanted to, but you didn't," noted the general.

"Yes sir," replied Grant. "I'm not the enemy so there was no reason for me to escape. I'm here to make sure you use the right people to take the fight to HYDRA. Steve Rogers was the right person and you left him in the States to do a dog and pony show. Several other people who are the right ones for the job are prisoners of Red Skull right now, in Austria. They were in the 107th Infantry Regiment that you sent north. Some others that are right for the job from other units were already prisoners there."

"You know this how?"

Grant sighed then took a leap of faith. "Because when I was Steve Rogers in my original 1943 that's what you did to me," he said firmly. "You were a colonel in my timeline, but you left me behind in the States doing a Victory Bond song and dance tour, as if I was nothing but a dancing monkey. When I got here on that tour and found out the 107th was taken prisoner I disobeyed a direct order from you and talked Agent Carter into helping me. She convinced Howard Stark to fly me behind enemy lines and I rescued the survivors of the 107th plus many other soldiers being held there, marching them back through enemy territory to here where you finally realized that you had made a mistake. We formed a special unit to go up against HYDRA and were more successful than any other regiment or division in the allied war effort."

"Why is it so important that Rogers perform this miraculous rescue?"

This time Grant smiled. "It's part of the mythology that will be created by his actions; mythology that will demoralize the Nazis and HYDRA. You yourself know that Hitler has spent a lot of time and effort finding mythological artifacts to bolster his claim of Nazi superiority. Johann Schmidt, the Red Skull, has done the same. He believes he is the superior being and he plans to make more superior beings like him. He doesn't care who he transforms and one of my friends becomes his victim, or more precisely, Dr. Arnim Zola's victim as he's in charge of what they will call the Winter Soldier program. I came back to prevent that and got into Army CIC to make sure Zola doesn't make it back alive to the United States. He is a cancer who will infiltrate American security intelligence agencies and corrupt them from the inside. I won't allow that to happen."

"Yet he is the only one doing super soldier research," said Phillips, "by your own admission. Project Rebirth died with Abraham Erskine's death."

"No, Zola is HYDRA's only hope," smiled Grant. "We still have our own program, operating in secret."

The general peered at him, working through what the man in front of him wasn't saying out loud.

"You're insinuating that Dr. Abraham Erskine is alive? I saw him die with my own eyes."

"Faked," said Grant, "with Howard Stark's help. He has Steve Rogers' blood and is working to replicate the serum in a secret lab. We're going to need it to treat my friend, making him our second super soldier. Dr. Erskine was right about picking the right man for the serum. Even though my friend is injected with HYDRA's serum they have to go to great lengths to make him their tool. When he is finally able to escape from them, he turns against them completely to fight on the right side. You can't give the serum to bullies as it just makes them worse. Good men become great with the serum and my friend is a good man."

General Phillips harrumphed as he stood up, fixing his critical stare on Grant. "You're either telling the truth or you're crazier than Hitler. I'm not sure which it is but you'll be happy to know Steve Rogers is on his way here. Agent Carter pulled some strings to get that dog and pony show here early which is when I began to suspect you had something to do with it. When he does arrive, I want you to stand next to him. Maybe shave that beard and remove the glasses. If I'm convinced that you're a different version of him, I may believe you. Of course, if I don't, I'll have you and the Corporal shot."

Motioning at both men to leave the stockade with him he told them they could return to their tent, but they were not to recruit anyone to their unit until Grant's claims had been proven. Once that was done, he was willing to listen to the man's plan for a second unit to go against HYDRA, in addition to the one that Steve Rogers would apparently lead.

Returning to their tent both Grant and Rose were pleasantly surprised to see that nothing had been taken from their possessions. When they were imprisoned, both were certain that the MPs would go through their tent with great precision, looking for evidence of their treachery. Realizing that the arrival of Steve Rogers would necessitate a leap of faith on his part Steven Grant did as General Phillips suggested, by shaving his beard. The following day, when Howard Stark arrived, having been summoned by the general to explain his part in saving Erskine, Grant presented himself to the billionaire, who shook his head, unsure if this was the right move.

"I knew at some point I would have to enlighten the General," Grant said to Howard. "It wasn't my original plan to show myself to Steve Rogers but if it helps, then I'll do it."

"He threatened me with arrest," said Stark. "Said if I had been in the military, I would have been court-martialled just for faking Dr. Erskine's death. At least he's not reporting either of us."

"Well, we did save Project Rebirth from being mothballed," reasoned Grant. "I think Agent Carter suspects who I am."

"Can I ask you something about her?" asked Howard. "Were you and her ...?"

Grant smiled. "We danced around it," he replied. "She was one of the reasons I came back but I've been rethinking that part of my decision."

"Why?"

"I don't think I feel the same about her anymore," said Grant. "The more I see her, the more I realize I've changed, moved on. I am 12 years older than I was when I went into the ice, so I'm 39 now. She's only 22. Steve is only 25. They're much better suited for each other just on age alone."

"I'm 26," said Stark. "I could still ask her out."

Steven smirked. "She was never interested in you," he stated. "Sorry to burst your bubble but she didn't want to be a notch on your bed post."

Stark made a bit of a face at that observation, but he didn't really argue the point and Steven realized he may have just changed that part of history as well. They talked for some time on Dr. Erskine's progress in recreating the serum. It was better that the general knew about that as well. He could get more funding and help for the doctor to work on that part of the project. Something told Steven that Bucky was going to need it more than even he had previously realized.

The next morning word rippled through the camp that the USO show had arrived. Steven had already told Peggy and the general to ask Steve Rogers not to perform as the men wouldn't accept him.

"They want the girls," he said. "Let them have the girls while we plan his attack on the factory."

"I still have to be convinced of that, but I'll request his presence here," said General Phillips. Then he looked pointedly at Grant. "I must say, that without the beard I do see the resemblance."

Steven shrugged. Until the two of them were standing side by side he didn't think Phillips would be willing to even entertain the operation. Minutes later Steve Rogers walked in, wearing his captain's uniform, drawing a critical look from the general. It was still amusing to Steven to see how Senator Brandt had pushed that commission through for the untried soldier. Peggy smiled at Rogers, confirming to Grant that he was the object of her affection. He smiled back then saluted the general and stood waiting, still unaware of Grant's presence.

"Rogers," drawled the general. "Do you have any brothers?"

"No sir, I'm an only child," replied the young captain.

"Cousins?"

"No sir."

Phillips looked at Grant and the latter stepped forward to stand next to Rogers, who glanced briefly at him then did a double take before facing forward again. Both the general and Peggy looked back and forth between the two.

"I'll be damned," said Phillips. "Grant, how old are you?"

"39, sir," replied the older man. "Captain Rogers is 25, both of us born July 4, 1918. He has a birthmark behind his right knee, in the same place mine is. The serum fixed any childhood scars that we may have shared. Our mother's name was Sarah, our father's name was Joseph who died of mustard gas poisoning in 1918 two months before our birth. We met our best friend Bucky Barnes after he intervened in a beating we received from some bullies trying to steal our milk money. We're both artists and lost our virginity on the USO tour."

"Now just a minute," said Steve. "Have you been spying on me? Who is this guy and why does he look like me?"

"Is everything he said true?" asked General Phillips.

Rogers blushed angrily then nodded his head. "Yes sir, all of it," he replied, glancing at Peggy.

"Well, Special Agent Grant, I guess you get to introduce yourself," said the general. "Then we'll sit down together, and you'll tell us how Captain Rogers here rescues the 107th from HYDRA's clutches."

"Wait, what about the 107th?" asked the younger man.

"At ease, Captain," said Grant. "First things first. Look at me, really look at me."

The two men faced each other, both of them the exact same height, weight and build. Grant was older, his face a little more lined and his hair darker in colour. As Rogers continued to study him, he began looking at General Phillips then Peggy Carter before looking back at Grant. It took several minutes before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Are you me?" he asked. "How?"

"I know Bucky was the one who loved reading science fiction but it's pretty simple," said Grant. "We'll have time to talk more but I was born the same day you were, to the same parents, in the same hospital. I was a sickly child who never thrived but had a mouth on me that always got me into trouble. Bucky bailed me out many times. After he shipped out, I signed up for Project Rebirth and was chosen to receive the serum that Dr. Abraham Erskine created that made my body look just like yours. He's alive, by the way, unlike in my original time. I arrived a few days before the procedure and convinced him to wear a bullet proof garment. Howard provided some blood packets to make it look good. He's in a secret location working on recreating the serum."

"You're from another timeline?" asked Steve, hesitantly. "You're older ... you said you're 39 so that means you came back from 1957?"

Grant shook his head. "2023. I ended up in the 21st century but I'll explain how later. I came back to make sure that what happened to Bucky in my timeline didn't happen in this one." He looked at Peggy. "I came back for you as well, but you're not mine. You and Steve belong together, always did." His gaze returned to Rogers. "Once I was here, I realized there were more people I could save from HYDRA and with the general's help I hope to have a second secret unit to do that while you lead the first unit. But first you have to rescue Bucky and the 107th, alone. Trust me, it's better than this dog and pony show that Senator Brandt set you up in. You're capable of being a leader, Steve, and you'll put fear into HYDRA."

Rogers said nothing for several long moments but continued to stare at Grant until he turned to the General.

"What do I have to do to help Bucky?"

Both versions of Steve looked at the General now and a hint of a grin appeared on his face at the possibilities that had just been offered to him.

"Grant, tell us everything."

HYDRA weapons facility, Kreischberg, Austria

It had been almost a week since the soldiers of the 107th were herded into the cramped circular cells in the weapons facility. In that time, they had been starved, beaten, and forced to work 12-14 hours a day helping to build weapons for HYDRA, under the sadistic eye of Colonel Lohmer. Any little thing could set him off and he always seemed to take it out on the same soldiers. For the 107th, that seemed to be focused on their sergeants, Bucky Barnes and Aaron Ginsburg, from C Company. Ginsburg died first, having been beaten to death by Lohmer within a few days of their arrival. Then Lohmer went elsewhere for a week but since his return had focused his anger on Barnes, beating him for all sorts of imagined infractions. It was all the more brutal because Barnes was also sick, likely suffering from pneumonia due to the poor conditions in the facility.

The breaking point for the men was when he beat Barnes for causing a cart full of munitions to fall, after he passed out. Lohmer viciously beat and kicked Barnes even though the unconscious man offered no resistance. Lieutenant Kleiber was ordered to clean up the mess when Lohmer had his fill of sadism, ordering Dum Dum Dugan and Gabe Jones to take Barnes back to the cell. The two men conferred with their cell mates, Falsworth and Dernier, coming up with a plan to kill Lohmer. As word was passed through the other cells it was decided to put a substance on the chains that were attached to the cranes that lifted bins of scrap metal to the foundry to be melted and turned into munitions. Focusing their attention on just one link of a specific chain on that one day, every man that was working near that chain smeared a "lubricant" on it, as part of their usual work, but substituted a corrosive substance instead. It soaked into the metal overnight, eating away at the integrity of the metal.

The following morning, Barnes woke up, his breathing laboured due to the broken ribs he almost certainly had, in addition to the illness he was suffering from. With the assistance of Dugan and Jones he stood up, ready to do the labour he was ordered to do. He filled up a bin with scrap metal then one of the prisoners who had the job of handling the crane pressed the controls that brought the chains over to the bin. Several other prisoners attached the chains to the bin then the order was given to raise it and transport it to the foundry. As the bin passed overhead it matched the path of Lohmer as he walked. A loud metallic snap was heard, and the bin toppled, its contents landing on Lohmer, killing him instantly. Every prisoner cheered for several seconds until Kleiber got his wits together and ordered that everyone be returned to their cells.

As Dugan and Jones helped Barnes back to their cell the big man whispered to his sergeant.

"Alright Bucky, we got you. Lohmer won't hurt you again."

"Thanks," was all that Bucky managed to get out before he collapsed onto the floor of the cell.

It was obvious by the next day that Bucky was in no shape to work. Kleiber allowed him to stay in his cell as Dum Dum and Gabe took turns bringing his food and helping him to the latrine when he needed it. As best as they could manage over the next few days, they took care of their sergeant, but his coughing grew worse, and he began bringing up a bloody discharge.

"Pneumonia or maybe even tuberculosis," speculated Falsworth. "Your man's had it."

"Fuck off," said Dum Dum. "Sarge is the strongest one of us. He'll beat this." He looked desperately at Gabe. "He has to."

On the fourth day Kleiber brought a doctor to see Bucky. A slight man with thinning hair, glasses, and a reedy voice Dr. Zola was not what Dum Dum would consider to be a doctor that inspired confidence. His manner, although polite, was still disturbing in that he didn't really look at Bucky as a patient. Rather he mumbled about his overall physical appearance, taking note that he had heard Sergeant Barnes had been a boxer.

"I think he'll do nicely," he finally said, rising from where he had been bent over Bucky's prone form. "Lieutenant, bring the sergeant to my lab. We'll start him on the treatment."

Three guards came over to the cell. One of them armed with a gun, motioned the other prisoners to move aside while the other two picked him up under his arms and dragged him out. As they closed the barred door Dum Dum yelled at them in both fear and frustration at his own inability to keep Barnes safe.

"Don't kill him, you dirty bastards!"

Zola stopped just before the door and turned back towards the soldiers still in the circular cell.

"I have no intention of killing your sergeant. Whether he survives the treatment is up to him. If it works, it will be a new day in science and your sergeant will never be sick again."

The little man gave everyone a smile that chilled them all with its lack of warmth and left them to wonder if they would ever see Sergeant Bucky Barnes again. For several days the remaining prisoners continued working under the watchful eyes of their armed guards, never receiving any acknowledgement of whether Bucky was alive or dead.

Then, late one night as they were all trying to sleep on the cold hard floor of their cells, they heard the sound of a body falling and looked up, seeing their guard unconscious. A quick check of the other cells showed the same phenomena of unconscious guards. A man, wearing a costume under a leather jacket while wearing what looked like a toy helmet and carrying a toy shield was bent over the guard, searching for his keys.

"Who are you?" asked Gabe.

He shrugged and answered in a Brooklyn accent. "Captain America."

Jumping off the cell to the floor he unlocked the door of the one cell then gave the keys to one of the men, who unlocked the other cells.

"I'm looking for Bucky Barnes," said the rescuer. "Is he here?"

"Sarge, yeah, but they took him for medical treatment," said Dum Dum. "He was sicker than hell and could barely stand. You look like Sarge's friend, Steve. I remember seeing you at Grand Central, but you were shorter."

"I grew," grinned Rogers. "Do you know where they took him?"

"No, but there is an isolation unit," said Falsworth. "It's where Zola does his experiments. You should start there."

"Alright, I'm going to get him," said Rogers. "You guys get out of here, raise some hell on your way out, and wait at the tree line for us."

"Hey, do you know what you're doing?" asked Gabe, as Rogers started towards the door. "You're not exactly wearing a uniform."

Rogers grinned. "It's okay, I've fought Hitler over 200 times and won."

He headed out, looking for the signage that Steven Grant told him about, finding the hallway. At the end of the hallway, he saw a little man in a hat, carrying his coat and a briefcase. Grant had told him to let the man go as they would have another opportunity to capture him again. Rushing into the door that the man came out of he found himself in a lab and heard the sound of someone muttering. It was Bucky and Steve hurried to where his friend was restrained, pulling the straps apart. It took a moment for Bucky to come around and recognize him but as soon as he did, he noticed Steve had changed.

"You were smaller. What happened?" he asked, still gathering his wits.

"I got into the army," replied Steve, placing his arm around Bucky's waist. "Come on, we've only got a few minutes before this place goes up."

"What about the others?" asked Bucky, pulling away to get to where the men were.

"Already released them."

They made their way to the cavernous factory just as the explosive charges went off. As they approached a movable walkway that spanned across the floor, they began walking across it, with Rogers expecting Red Skull to appear on the other side as he had been warned. However, the man never did, and both he and Bucky made it out to the roof, making their way down to the ground then out towards where Steve told the others to wait. He would have to make sure to tell Grant that Red Skull and the little man, Dr. Zola, left right away rather than confront him and Bucky. It was strange getting intel on what was supposed to happen, but it also confirmed that Grant was an older him who had already lived through a version of this rescue. He glanced at Bucky. That was going to be interesting when he met Grant.

When Steve and Bucky got to the tree line, he was happy to see a significant number of PoWs waiting for their arrival, most of them armed with the strange weapons. They had some tanks with them, which the weapons guys were going to love as well as the components he grabbed with the blue glowing portions on them. It was a power source unlike any of them had seen although Grant said it was important.

They began the long walk back to the base although General Phillips said they would send trucks for them, once they were sure there were no enemy units along the way. Either way, Special Agent Steven Grant said it was important to set up the mythology of Captain America, of his strength, ingenuity and tactical ability. They weren't just going to fight HYDRA physically; it was going to be a propaganda war as well, exposing those thugs for what they were.

As he kept glancing at the beaten face of Bucky, with the dried blood that was evident on his ears Steve confirmed something that Grant had briefly mentioned. Bucky had already been given some serum. The others, specifically that Dum Dum Dugan fellow, said Bucky was barely able to stand, as he was so sick and injured. Yet, there he was, a gun in hand, walking just as strongly as all the others. He still wasn't completely well, but he wasn't dying anymore. Steve was sure that HYDRA had done something else to him, but Bucky never said a word of it to him on the journey back, his best friend never spoke of it. Grant told him that what they did had likely already affected Bucky emotionally. Steve didn't want to believe that of the strongest man he knew and idolized but it was right there in front of him, as plain as day. As happy as Steve was that he had done something good in rescuing all the PoWs, he feared that he couldn't help his best friend deal with what HYDRA forced onto him. That one thing made him feel like he had already failed Bucky, before they even got started and he didn't like it.

Chapter Text

It was quite interesting getting back to base with Steve leading the rescued PoWs. All the way there, first on foot, then picked up in trucks apparently sent by General Phillips, Bucky couldn't get over the changes in his friend. The guy was bigger than him now. Although Steve hadn't come right out to say what happened, he admitted to being involved in an experiment that transformed him into the muscular man who had single-handedly rescued 163 men, by Dugan's head count. It almost made what happened to Bucky in the factory worth it, even though he just wanted to forget about it, forget about the pain, the machine, and the annoying little man with the whining voice.

"Sarge, what did that doctor give you?" asked Dugan, at one point. "You could barely walk when they dragged you out of the cell."

"Drop it," he said to the corporal. "It must have been medicine because I felt better a couple of days later."

"Then why didn't they bring you back to the cells?" persisted the big man, trying to understand why Barnes seemed bothered.

"I said drop it," repeated Barnes with an edge to his voice. "That's an order. Nothing happened to me, okay? Nothing."

Even as he said it Bucky knew it wasn't true. Something had changed in him from the moment that Dr. Zola began injecting him with the blue liquid. It burned as it coursed through his system, filling him with a sensation of fire that felt like it was engulfing him, but there was no doubt that his broken ribs had begun healing by the next day. The cough, and bloody phlegm that he brought up before was gone within hours. Then they put him in that machine, with parts that covered the left side of his face, sending even more pain through his head as they turned it on and off repeatedly. Each time they turned it off they would ask him one thing.

"What is your name?"

He would answer with the same response, the only one that prisoners of war were obligated to say. "Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant, serial number 32557038."

Over and over again they would go through the same question and response routine, interspersed by the machine being placed over his head and the electrical charge applied to him, producing a piercing pain that sliced through his whole body. Only at night did he get any respite, when they would unshackle him from the treatment bed, drag him to another cell, with only a bucket in the corner for him to shit and piss into. Shortly after being dumped in the cell, the door would open and a plate of food placed on the floor for him, disgusting food that he wolfed down because he was so damn hungry. Intense hunger that he was feeling now.

The sound of cheering interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see they were entering the base camp, with hundreds of soldiers lining the roadway where they entered. As they piled out of the trucks and marched towards the centre of the camp, Steve looked back at him and grinned, gesturing with his head to follow. He led Bucky and the others over to where a dour faced senior officer stood, General Phillips, presumably. Even though Steve wasn't in uniform he saluted the general. The man just shook his head slightly as he gazed at Rogers and the others, his eyes resting on Barnes just a moment longer than the others.

"Captain, report," he said.

"Mission successful, sir," replied Steve. "163 rescued. One HYDRA base destroyed. Several tanks taken into custody, along with numerous HYDRA weapons and several power components, just like we expected."

Steve took something out of his pocket and showed the general. A dark-haired man with a moustache, his expensive suit seeming out of place in the rough environment, immediately stepped up, looking at the item with interest, before glancing at the general. With a start Bucky realized it was Howard Stark, the billionaire. He was standing less than 10 feet away from one of the richest men in the world.

"Go ahead, Stark," said the general. "Start your analysis of it." He looked at Rogers again. "Get the men to medical, get them fed, and we'll transport you to England to begin training your unit, Captain Rogers. Good work."

The general left with Stark, leaving behind a stunning brunette who walked up to Steve with a smile on her face. Bucky raked his eyes over her figure, wondering who she was then she opened her mouth and the most delicious British accent spilled from her lips.

"You're late," she said, smirking in an alluring manner to the blond soldier.

"We had to walk a long way before the rendezvous with the trucks," grinned Steve. He looked past her, as if he was looking for someone. "It went almost exactly like Grant said."

She smiled. "He's around here somewhere." Briefly, she looked at Barnes, raising his hopes for a moment then focused back on Steve, giving him a look that Bucky recognized all too well as something that he always used to get. "I'll see you later, Captain."

Steve turned back to the others. "Those of you with injuries get to the medical tent," he ordered. "Everyone else can pick up some clean clothes, hit the showers then the mess tent." He looked at Bucky. "Come on, I'll walk you to the medical tent."

"I'm fine," protested the dark-haired man, "really, I'm okay."

"Sergeant, I do outrank you," smiled Steve. "Consider it an order."

"Punk," grinned Bucky.

After getting the reluctant patient into the tent Steve was called away but he only left when he got his friend's promise to allow them to treat his injuries. As soon as Steve was out of earshot Bucky stood up to leave.

"Sit down, Sergeant," said a voice from the side, that sounded all too familiar to him.

"Steve, seriously, I'm fine," said Bucky, getting irritated at everyone's insistence that he get checked out.

"Bullshit," said Steven Grant, placing himself directly in Bucky's way.

"What the hell?" Bucky looked at Grant in surprise. "Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?" asked Grant.

"I want to say Steve Rogers but you're different than him, older, darker hair ... different."

"You'd be right and wrong," said the other man. "I am Steve Rogers but I'm not from this timeline. Here I'm Special Agent Steven Grant of Army CIC, and yes, I just used my middle name as my new last name. I'm also 39, and I'm here for you, Bucky."

Bucky leaned forward and sniffed close to Grant's mouth. "You're not drunk," he said. "What do you mean, you're here for me?"

Grant gestured to Bucky to sit then pulled a chair up and regarded this younger version of the man he left behind in 2023.

"You remember The Time Machine by H.G. Wells?" he asked. "He went to the future, then returned to the past, then to the future again, armed with books to teach them how to build a society?"

"Yeah, you trying to tell me you're from the future?" Steven didn't respond, just kept looking at Bucky. "You're serious. Jesus H. Christ, Steve. Why should I believe you?"

"Because Zola injected you with the serum, then put you in the memory suppression machine," he said bluntly, noticing Bucky's surly reaction. "I tried to talk General Phillips into not sending the 107th into Azzano because you being captured and having the super soldier process started on you by that mad scientist was what I knew would happen. In my timeline, that alone set in motion a future for you that I promised to prevent. I already failed the first part so now I need you to understand that you can't keep what they did to you under wraps. It's not going to go away, Bucky. The super soldier process can't be stopped but if you'll let me, I'll help you get through it with your mind and body intact."

Bucky was angry and shook his head in disbelief at this man assuming that he had been changed.

"I don't believe you," he replied defiantly. "Yeah, he gave me some sort of medicine and it cured my pneumonia and helped to heal ...." Steven was shaking his head in disagreement. "What? You saying it didn't heal me?"

"Oh, it did, most definitely," answered Steven. "But it did it by changing your body so that it heals itself. Tell me something. Are you hungry?" Bucky looked blankly at him. "God damn it, Bucky, answer me. Are you hungry, hungrier than you've ever been, right now?" He nodded. "Your metabolism has been ramped up. Your body will burn through food and booze so fast that you'll be hungry again in an hour and you will never get drunk again. Cut your hand."

Bucky looked at him blankly again, so Steven picked up a scalpel, grabbed Bucky's hand and nicked the palm slightly before the younger man could pull it away. With a cry Bucky tried to push Steven away but it was like pushing an immovable object, as the man was built like a thick tree.

"What did you do that for?" he asked. "Have you gone crazy?"

"Look at your hand," said Steven. "Look at it."

Grimacing while he shook his head Bucky opened his hand and was amazed to see that the cut had already stopped bleeding. He watched with a perverse fascination as the edges of the tiny cut came together in a matter of seconds. Steven put some rubbing alcohol on some cotton batting and wiped the blood off. It should have hurt like hell, but it didn't because the cut was healed, and a small red mark was the only evidence of it.

"How?" Bucky's voice was a whisper now and he looked up at Steven with an almost terrified look in his eyes. "I'll always be like this?"

"Yeah," replied the other man, calmly. "Your body has already changed, and nothing will change it back. You're like me and Steve Rogers now, but not quite the same. HYDRA's serum is different, just not as good. I already talked to the scientist who changed me and Steve. He's worried that your serum wasn't as pure, so I need a sample of your blood to send to him. It's not like HYDRA cared how it affected you as they just wanted you to be their puppet. I do know you were the only man they were successful with in my timeline."

"I don't want this," declared Bucky. "I'm no hero. You don't know what it's been like."

"Actually, I do know," said Steven, gentler in his tone. "I fought alongside you from this moment until early 1945 and was too blind then to see what you were going through with this war and the changes in your body. It frightened you and made you think you weren't human, yet you still fought with us, still protected your team. You are still human. Your body is different but you're the same good man, Bucky. We need you to help stop HYDRA before they ever get to the level they were in my timeline."

"What happens in 1945?" asked Bucky.

Steven sighed. Bucky would pick up on that, but he didn't want to say what just yet, not until his friend accepted the changes in him.

"Let's just say something happens to both Steve and you that I will do all I can to prevent. Just being truthful about what Zola did to you will be important because it will change how things happened before."

"They'll think I'm a freak."

"No, they've already noticed changes and just want to know so they can help," said Steven. "I'll be around and so will Steve to make sure you're kept on as part of the team. But you have to be truthful about the changes happening to you, starting here and now. Please, I'm begging you."

A nurse came in with a tray to treat Bucky's facial abrasions. She looked expectantly at Grant, and he stepped back as a doctor stepped inside the cubicle.

"Sergeant how are you doing? I'm Major Lambert. We understand you were treated by a doctor while you were a prisoner. Was anything out of the ordinary done to you?"

A whole range of emotions played over Bucky's face while Grant stood in the shadows. It was obvious he wasn't going to speak on behalf of the sergeant but wanted him to speak up on his own.

"Yes," said Bucky, sounding defeated. "I was tortured by a device that gave me electrical shocks that hurt like hell. They also injected me with a blue liquid, several vials at least but I wasn't always conscious so I can't tell you how much."

"We've had reports of a HYDRA doctor doing just that to other PoWs," said the doctor shaking his head. "Some kind of experimentation but you seem to be the first to survive the treatment. If you'll let me examine you and take some blood, we'll clean you up and let you get back to your unit. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Bucky looked at Grant again, the dilemma clear on his face. Then he lowered his eyes and sighed.

"I had broken ribs and they healed within a day, a chest infection that was cleared up in hours, and I'm always hungry, ravenous, in fact."

The doctor examined the abrasions on Bucky's face, asking him questions about how they came about, noting they were already healed. He listened to Bucky's heart and chest, tested his reflexes, then instructed the nurse to take a vial of blood, to be sent on the next transport to England in a cooler. Before he left the doctor looked at the sergeant with compassion.

"If you notice anything else changing about your body please come and tell me or Lt. Hay immediately," said the doctor. "We are the only two medical personnel here who are cleared to examine you. If anyone else who does not have clearance questions you about it, you are not to discuss it. Whatever was done to you was done without your consent and is to be considered a war crime. Special Agent Grant, may I speak to you privately?"

"Bucky, I'll be right back," said Steven, leaving with the doctor.

Bucky watched the nurse as she put a tourniquet on him and inserted the needle, pulling a blood sample out. She was very conscientious with the task but kept her face neutral. When she finished getting the blood, she put some cotton batting on the insertion spot and asked Bucky to hold it in place. After several seconds she checked it and just by her expression Bucky knew she had seen this before as it was already healed. As she turned to leave, he placed his hand on her arm.

"You were there, when they changed Steve Rogers, weren't you?" he asked.

"I'm not permitted to talk about it," she said, kindly. Then she looked him in the eye. "It will be alright, Sergeant. You're in friendly hands now."

She did smile calmly at him, so he let her go, but he still felt uneasy and wondered if he had just consigned himself to the status of a lab rat. Steven Grant returned shortly after, passing Lt. Hay on her way out.

"They were both part of Project Rebirth, the project that changed Steve and me," he said to Bucky's unasked question. "They were sent here when Steve arrived to rescue you, just to perform this examination. They'll be coming back to England with us and examining your blood in a secure laboratory there, along with Dr. Erskine. He's the head scientist of the experiment."

"So, I am a lab rat," said Bucky, voicing his fear.

"If you believe that about yourself then nothing I say will change that perception," said Steven. "You were an experiment to Dr. Zola, but Dr. Erskine, Major Lambert and the other doctors only want to make sure that what was done to you won't harm you. They're hoping to determine how much of the HYDRA serum is in you and whether the serum Dr. Erskine developed can counteract some of the side effects."

"Lab rat," repeated Bucky then he stood up and glared at Steven. "Can I get showered and eat now?"

Steven stepped aside so Bucky could leave. It had all seemed so easy when he made the decision to focus on preventing Bucky's transformation. Now that it had happened, he had to deal with Bucky's natural stubborn nature. Funny how when they were growing up that stubbornness seemed a lot more adaptable than it was looking right now.

To Bucky's credit he joined the others for a meal after he showered and changed into clean clothes. He confirmed that he had been examined by the doctor and declared fit to rejoin the unit. As Grant watched them from another table, he was joined briefly by Steve Rogers who looked over at the small group of men who had been captured with Bucky.

"That's them, the team I'll assemble?" he asked. Grant nodded. "Did Bucky confirm the treatment?"

"He did but he wasn't happy about admitting to it," said the older man. "You're going to have to watch him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"You're not coming back to England with us?"

"Yes, but I'm forming my own unit," said Grant. "I have some people to find before HYDRA conscripts them. They're not willing Nazis either. Just brilliant people forced into servitude." He looked at his younger self. "You'll do alright. Just ... if there is any mission involving a train, don't let Bucky on it. Make sure he sees Dr. Erskine in England. Drag him yourself if you have to."

"Just what exactly did they do to him in your timeline?" asked Steve.

Grant looked at him sadly but shook his head. "Need to know at this moment but you'll both be enlightened at some point. You remember what Dr. Erskine said about how the serum affects a man? Bucky's afraid right now. If I tell him too much, then his body will feed off that fear. We need him, Steve. We have to make sure they don't do this to anyone else either, which means we take HYDRA completely out well before the end of this decade."

Rogers left to sit with Bucky at the other table. Grant smiled, watching the other members of what would become the Howling Commandos poking fun at each other. It was good to see them again and he almost envied Steve Rogers for getting to work with them.

"That's the group, huh?" asked another voice as Corporal Rose sat next to him with his food tray. "Looks like a motley crew to me."

"They were," said Steven. "But they were good at their jobs and their different backgrounds meshed very well together. I would have loved to have had them in the future with me." He pushed his tray away, thinking of the SHIELD STRIKE team that betrayed him, determined to personally make sure all members of this new team could be trusted. "We'll be going to England on the transport with them but once we get there, we have a couple of people to see. They come highly recommended, but I want to meet them first before I decide. What about the ones you were looking into?"

"One of them is here on the base," replied Rose. "He was part of the group that was rescued. I'm pretty sure he'll be interested in some payback. The other is in a military prison in England." Grant frowned while Rose shrugged. "He's a thief by trade but we'll need him to get into secure places. There's no one else with his skills that I trust."

"Alright, let's go see the one still here," said Grant. "I'll have to get the general to okay his transfer."

Both men got up, leaving the mess tent, a motion that was noticed by Bucky and Steve. A deep sigh from Bucky drew Steve's attention.

"What?" he asked.

"I don't trust him," said Bucky.

Steve smirked. "He's me. What's not to trust?"

"He's not you, not the Steve I know. However long he was ... there ... changed him and I don't recognize him anymore."

"Bucky, he told me exactly where to find you," said Steve. "He's worried about you because in his time you were afraid to tell him or anyone what they did to you. Apparently, that meant assumptions were made that affected you. That's not a mistake I'm going to repeat."

"Did he tell you everything that happened to me in his time?" asked Bucky. "What was so bad that he felt compelled to return to the past? What is he trying to undo, especially with me?"

The last sentence was said with such vehemence that the others noticed and stopped talking, looking at Bucky and Steve questioningly.

"It's alright," said Steve, standing up and pulling Bucky with him. "He's just tired after everything that's gone down. We'll see you all at 08:00 tomorrow for transport to the airfield."

"Sure, Cap," replied Dum Dum, watching Bucky carefully. "Sarge, get some rest. We've got your back."

Bucky nodded and smiled slightly at the big man, then he and Steve headed out of the mess tent and towards Steve's tent. When they got inside, Steve looked out briefly to make sure no one was nearby then he pulled the flap closed and glared at his friend.

"What the hell has got into you?" he demanded. "He hasn't told us everything because right now it's need to know."

"But it's about me," hissed Bucky. "What did HYDRA do to me that was so terrible that a future version of you was willing to change the past by coming back? Him just being here has changed things. He's keeping a lot of secrets from us, and I don't like it."

It was true that Steve thought they could both be kept more in the loop but so far everything his double said would happen had happened. Maybe not exactly as Grant prepared him for but that could be because his presence in this past had changed things already. Grant had indicated that Bucky could be emotionally affected by the trauma of being experimented on and tortured. He called it something long and drawn out, post-traumatic stress disorder. Perhaps this was what was bothering Bucky more than anything. Never did Steve Rogers ever expect that he would be the one offering comfort to Bucky Barnes as it had always been the other way around. But he would do it; he would stand with Bucky anywhere, anytime and if that meant he had to help him deal with his issues, then so be it. Until the end of the line.

Chapter Text

Italy

Grant and Rose went to another part of the base, seeking out a specific tent.  When they got there it was empty and they stood outside of it for a moment determining their next move.  A private walking by stopped when Grant nodded at him.

"Looking for someone?" he asked.

"Corporal Arthur Raines?" asked Rose.

"Yeah, he's at the showers," said the private.  "Said he had to get the stench of that factory off of him."

Walking towards the showers both men waited outside, watching the men who left the shower tent.  When a dark-haired man left, Rose nudged Grant and nodded towards the other man.

"Corporal Raines?" asked Grant, this time.  "Do you have a moment?"

The man looked at both of them with suspicion.  "Who's asking?" he asked.

"I'm Special Agent Steven Grant," was the reply.  "This is Corporal Rose.  We're looking for a few good men to form a special unit.  We thought you might be interested."

"Army Intelligence, huh?" said Raines.  "Nah, I've just spent a couple of weeks being treated like a slave.  I would rather get on the battlefield again.  At least there I won't feel so weak."

"We're going against HYDRA," said Grant.  "One of two units being formed.  You can get some payback and you'll get extra pay."

He looked at both men, trying to figure out if this was a joke.  "Why me?"

Grant glanced at Rose before speaking.  "According to your file, you travelled through Poland before they were taken over by Germany.  You know the country intimately and you're fluent in Polish, German, and Russian.  You fought in the defence of Poland when it was invaded, then made your way to England where you enlisted in the British Army before transferring to the American Army when they got involved.  You were resourceful, effective, and I figure with what you saw in that factory you know there is an enemy who is just as dangerous as the Nazis."

Raines, a tall, lanky man, set his mouth in a grim line.  "Four men in my unit were taken by that little doctor and I never saw them again.  What did he do to them?"  As Grant started to talk Raines shook his head.  "I don't want the need-to-know bullshit.  What was he trying to do with them?"

"Change their bodies into a weapon," said Grant, in a low voice.  "Bigger, stronger, faster, ability to heal quicker, they're called super soldiers.  The process is still experimental, and it doesn't always work.  Those that go through it are subjected to great pain as they're basically tortured to force their bodies to accept it.  Your friends didn't make it."

"That sergeant, the one that Captain America went after ... he had it, didn't he?"  Grant nodded.  "Why did he survive?"

"He was dying, and their serum seems to work better when it has to fix the body first before changing it."  Grant shrugged.  "That's my guess.  He'll be part of the first unit with Captain America."

Raines rubbed his face with his hand then looked closely at Grant.  "There's more to you as well but I'm guessing you need to trust me before you'll say anything else."  Neither Grant nor Rose reacted.  "Alright, I'm in.  These two units are destroying everyone, and everything associated with those maniacs, right?"

"Not everyone," cautioned Grant.  "There're several people who have been forced to work for them.  We're getting them out, then we'll destroy their bases and eliminate the rest."

"How do you know who deserves to be rescued?" asked Raines.

Grant smiled slightly.  "Need to know.  I need to trust you first, Corporal, before I'm willing to share that."

"Fucking Army Intelligence," muttered the other man.  "Alright, I'm still in."

"Be at the command post tomorrow morning, 08:00, with your bag packed," said Grant.  "I'll get your transfer squared away."

He and Rose headed towards the command tent where he put in the request directly to General Phillips to transfer Raines to his new unit.  The older soldier looked at the paper, then signed it and called in Corporal Mann, his clerk, to write up new orders for Corporal Arthur Raines to be transferred to the second new unit.  The corporal waited as if he had a question to ask the General.

"Sir?  What are the names of the new units?  I can't assign anyone to something that doesn't exist."

The General looked at Grant, his eyebrows raised.  

"Captain Rogers group was called the Howling Commandos," replied the younger man.  "You could call them the First Attack Squad officially and keep them under the umbrella of the SSR.  They should be the face of the fight against HYDRA.  Give them as much press as you can.  As for my team, I guess they're the Second Attack Squad.  We're going after the smaller labs, the ones not on the official maps.  We're pulling out their scientists that have been forced into the work and destroying those facilities.  I don't want us to be publicized so call us whatever you want."

"Very well, Grant, I'll make those the official designations but will try to come up with something appropriate for your team, that fits your purpose," said Phillips.  "You're going to need a sergeant.  I can promote Corporal Rose."

"No, he's already said he doesn't want that responsibility," replied Grant.  "There are three men in England that I'll be meeting to fill out the squad.  One of them might be able to assume that rank.  Will that be all, General?"

"Dismissed," said the General and watched impassively as Grant left the tent.

It had been quite an eye-opening experience for General Phillips when Rogers walked in with 163 PoWs rescued from that HYDRA factory.  How a man who used to weigh only 100 lbs with barely a week's worth of basic training managed to infiltrate that facility and take out some of the most fearsome soldiers in existence was beyond him, but it was proof that Erskine was right.  With the right man that serum could do wonders.  He just wasn't sure that Sergeant Barnes was the right man but since he had already started the process it was only fair to let him finish it.  Once Phillips was sure the man had what it took, that is.

"Sir, Stars and Stripes are here," said Corporal Mann, interrupting the General's thoughts.  "They want to know what's going on."

"Of course they do," smiled the General.  "Send them in."

When the reporter from the armed forces newspaper left an hour later with the exclusive story of how Captain America single handedly rescued almost 400 soldiers from behind enemy lines he couldn't believe his photographer's luck in capturing the photos of the hero walking in from the gates with the grateful men behind him.  This was going to go over so well at home.  A real-life superhero, better than Superman, because he wasn't something that existed only in a comic book.  He was the real deal.

Allied Headquarters, London, England, several days later

Watching as Steve marked the locations of the other HYDRA bases while Peggy watched, Grant smiled slightly.  It was interesting seeing the chemistry between the pair and comparing it to his own memories of that moment.  He had been so nervous around her but so captivated.  Funny how he didn't seem to feel that way anymore, making him wonder why he ever thought coming back just for her was the right thing to do.  The other officer took the map from Rogers and the couple went to the operations room while Grant followed, staying at the periphery of the large space.  As Army Intelligence he was expected to be in the shadows and that was a good thing.  It meant he could get more done than the soon to be very public face of the Howling Commandos.  That part of it wouldn't be missed at all.

They already had most of the HYDRA factories marked on the large table map but he had a few more to add, ones that escaped their notice the first time around.  Peggy left to coordinate with British Intelligence for overflights on the current locations.  As the General spoke to Rogers about forming a team Grant grinned again as his younger self confidently told the General he was already on it.  When the young captain left the General looked up at him.

"What are you grinning at?" he asked, frowning.

"Who were you thinking for his team?  Guys like Hodges?  He doesn't have what it takes.  Trust me, the group that Rogers forms are the best people for the job.  They won't let you down."

"I hope you're right, Grant," said Phillips.  "I'm sticking my neck out for you and for Rogers, and I'm doing it blind as you haven't filled me in completely yet."

"I know," replied Grant.  "It's just that I've been warned about how much of the future I can reveal at any one time.  Too much is as dangerous as too little."

The General turned and waited for Grant to walk with him. "This Sergeant Barnes worries me," he said.  "He doesn't seem to be all on board."

"You served in World War I, correct?" asked Grant.  Phillips grunted.  "You saw your share of men with shell shock.  They call it battle fatigue or combat stress reaction now.  In the future it is part of what they call post-traumatic stress disorder.  The human body and mind can only take so much and everybody's point of breaking is different.  It doesn't mean the soldier is a coward or is any less than the man next to him who seems to manage just fine.  I experienced it myself in the future."  Phillips looked at him steadily.  "I dealt with it physically, continually working out until I was exhausted.  Sergeant Barnes is dealing with it emotionally, but he's also dealing with the changes that his body has experienced from the serum treatment.  It's probably increased his paranoia, and his feeling of isolation.  He's terrified of being captured again and subjected to the same treatment, I can tell you that much."

"Should he be relieved from duty?" asked Phillips, his tone gentler.  "I feel for the man, I do, but if he's going to be a detriment because of his emotions...."

Grant interrupted him.  "No, doing that would only feed his paranoia and that would affect how the serum changes his body.  He needs to feel normal and being with Steve and the Howling Commandos will help with that.  He'll be able to control his fear and now that he's been open about the changes his body has experienced he won't feel so isolated.  The others trust him and he needs that trust.  I've already talked to Captain Rogers about PTSD and what he needs to do to help Sergeant Barnes through this."

"Tell me something," said the General, hesitant at first to complete his sentence.  "Did HYDRA deliberately let him go?"

"Sir?" 

Phillips swallowed and set his jaw for a moment as if he found the subject distasteful.  "There are some rumours, even though it's been only a couple of days, that Sergeant Barnes is a plant.  The rumours are that HYDRA changed him, made him theirs, and then allowed him to be rescued so that he would be their inside man."

"That's preposterous," declared Grant, indignant at the accusation.  "It's propaganda.  They probably have people who have infiltrated intelligence circles already who are the source of these rumours.  I saw the Stars and Stripes issue that talked all about Rogers' and Barnes' background together.  You don't think HYDRA aren't going to twist that to their advantage?  Don't buy into that bullshit.  I would trust Bucky Barnes with my life."

"But he doesn't trust you," stated Phillips.  "I could see that on the flight back to England."

"He doesn't trust me completely, that's true.  But it's only because I haven't told him the extent of what they did to him."  He looked at the General.  "I'm not ready to tell you yet, either.  Even you're need to know on some things, General, no offence.  I'll gain Bucky's trust.  I have to but I'll do it at my own pace and not be forced into it, if I can help it."

The older man grunted and sat at his desk, effectively dismissing Grant.  As he headed up to the first floor from the basement where headquarters was located he was surprised to see Corporal Rose waiting for him.  

"I thought I told you to locate Howlett," said Grant.

"I did, and Raines is watching him," said Rose.  "He's in the same pub as the motley crew."

Grant stopped and looked at Rose incredulously.  How the hell did that happen?  He searched his memory for the moment he walked into the pub as Steve Rogers trying to remember if the Canadian paratrooper had been there.  There was no memory of it, and he wondered if this was another change brought about by his earlier presence in this timeline.  No matter, as James Howlett, aka Logan, aka Wolverine, was on his list of people whose life had been affected by the Winter Soldier.  His recruitment into the second unit was an attempt to change that man's future into something less tragic, although Dr. Strange had said it would be a long shot.

Whip & Fiddle Pub, London

It was his fourth straight double scotch that brought a comment out of the man sitting two seats down from Bucky in the snug.

"You're going to have a hell of a hangover if you keep drinking like that," said the soldier, a Canadian, as evidenced by the CANADA patch on the shoulder of his uniform.  

"What's it to you, pal?" asked Bucky, already irritated that he wasn't feeling even a hint of a buzz from the scotch.  

"Nothing," replied the bearded man.  "Free country."

"Damn right," smirked Bucky.  "Besides, you're hitting the drinks pretty hard yourself."

"Yeah, well I'm used to it kid," said the man.

"You know you're being followed, right?" Bucky gestured to a guy he recognized as Corporal Raines, sitting against the wall, trying to make it look like he wasn't watching the pair.

"He's been following me a while," replied the Canadian who was also wearing a paratrooper pin.  "Why do you think he's following me?"

"I spent a while as a PoW in Austria with him until we were rescued," answered the younger man.  "Then we flew here on the same aircraft from Italy, an aircraft filled with hand picked soldiers for a new special forces squad.  I'm sure he's part of the second squad and you might be on their radar."  

He glanced back to where Dugan and the others were sitting then saw the door to the pub open and both Steve Rogers and Steven Grant entered, along with the other Corporal who had been working with the Army Intelligence agent.  His Steve sat with Dugan and the others while Grant came into the snug, glancing first at Raines who nodded towards the Canadian.  Bucky smirked.

"Here comes the pitch," he said, drinking his scotch and ordering another.  He looked at the intelligence officer.  "Grant.  Tell Corporal Raines he needs to work on his observation skills."

"He wasn't trying to remain hidden," said Grant.  "I think Captain Rogers wants to talk to you."

"I'll wait here for him.  I'm not going anywhere."

"Suit yourself."  Grant turned to the Canadian while signalling the bartender.  "Sergeant James Howlett?  What are you drinking?"

"Rye whiskey," replied the paratrooper.  "Who the hell are you?"

"Special Agent Steven Grant." Bucky made a noise like a grunt receiving an exasperated glance from Grant.  "Sergeant Barnes here doesn't trust me yet which is strange because we've been friends since I was 12 and he was 13."  Bucky scowled noticeably.  "There's a reason I look considerably older than him but I'd rather not discuss it in public.  You heard of the rescue of a significant number of soldiers from a HYDRA factory in Austria, right?"

"Yeah, heard something about it," replied Howlett, staring straight ahead.  "What's that got to do with me?  I'm in the Canadian Army, not the American."

"The group out there with Captain America, Steve Rogers, has an English officer and a member of the French resistance on it," answered Grant.  "We're looking for the right people to make up a second squad and I think you fit the bill."

"Not interested," said Howlett, grinning at Bucky who grinned back.  

Grant sighed and looked at Rose who got up and went around to the civilian guests, asking if they would step out for a moment.  To those who put up a fuss he offered to buy them another drink.  It took a few moments then he asked the bartender in the snug to work on the rowdier side for the next while.  By then Steve Rogers had arrived to talk to Bucky.  

"Captain, would you take Sergeant Barnes with you to the other side, please?" asked Grant.  "I need a private word with Sergeant Howlett."

"Bucky, please," said Steve, taking his friend's arm.

"No, I want to know what Howlett gets to know that I don't," said Bucky, shaking off Steve's overtures.  

Grant could feel a sense of utter disbelief at the stubbornness of Bucky.  It was frustrating, irritating, and making him angry that this man who he came back in time for was putting up such a fuss.  He turned to Bucky.

"Do you remember when my mother died and I left the graveside service because I was just so damned numb from losing her?  You found me as I arrived at our flat, that tiny pathetic flat that had no food in the icebox, no hot water and I barely had enough from what odd jobs I could scrounge to pay the rent and electricity bill."  Bucky looked at him without any sign of emotion.  "I couldn't find my fucking door key and you picked up the brick that covered the spare, placing it in my hand.  Told me I should come and live with you, that we could pull the cushions off the sofa and put them on the floor like when we were kids.  All I had to do was shine your shoes every once in a while or take out the trash.  I tried to tell you that I could handle living on my own and you said I didn't have to because you were with me until the end of the line."  He faced his friend full on.  "I came back for you, Bucky, to stop something terrible from happening to you and all I get from you is pushback and anger.  I knew you were stubborn but this is taking it to a whole new level.  Maybe you aren't worth it and I just made the biggest mistake of my life coming back in time 80 years to stop what HYDRA did to you.  The worst of it, is that it isn't entirely about you.  I'm hoping to change Howlett's life as well because he has a lot in common with you and Steve and me.  I didn't even know about him until just before I left in 2023, because he was busy dealing with his own shit."

"How can he be alive in 2023?" Bucky spoke cynically, looking at the Canadian, who was suddenly interested in what Grant was saying.

"Because he was born somewhere between 1830 and 1900, depending on who you talk to," said Grant, "in Cold Lake, Alberta.  Adopted at birth by the Howlett's his real father was Thomas Logan, a real bastard of a man that he ended up killing.  He has super soldier strength and regenerative abilities but he's not a super soldier like us.  He's a mutant, has claws that come out of his hands when he's enraged, and he can come back to life after he's been killed but it comes at a cost, as he loses his memory for some time after.  Eventually, he gets it back but it's caused him a lot of grief.  How am I doing for accuracy, Howlett?"

"Pretty good, actually," said the man, barely hiding his surprise at Grant's knowledge.  "How the hell did you know all of that?"

"Because I brought files with me of people to find that could help defeat HYDRA in the here and now.  You were right up there because if there's one thing you like, it's a good fight, and this will be some fight.  In exchange for your help I would give you all of the information I have on you so that you would know who to trust and who not to trust in the future.  You are a good man, Howlett, even with all of your anger issues.  You're capable of a lot of tenderness towards the people you care for.  I need a sergeant that I can trust and I hoped that it would be you."

The Canadian paratrooper sipped his whiskey again, looking at Grant for some time before speaking.

"What's your problem with Special Agent Grant?" Howlett looked at Bucky.  "He's obviously an older version of your younger captain here.  Has he lied to you?"

"No, he just won't tell me the real reason why he came back," said the dark-haired super soldier.  "He's told me some of it but he hasn't told me all of it and I need to know before I'm willing to trust him.  What did I become that would make him come back in time?"

Steve Rogers looked intently at Grant, showing that he also wanted to know.  The intelligence agent felt many conflicting emotions at that moment.  He really didn't want to have this conversation with any of them so soon, fearing it was too much to reveal all at once.

"You want me and Raines to leave for a moment?" asked Rose, seeing the dilemma on Grant's face.  "We don't mind."

Grant nodded and waited until it was just the four of them left in the snug before he began talking.  "HYDRA got you back after we thought we lost you," he said solemnly.  "Remember what I said about you not being truthful about what they did to you in the factory during my timeline?  We didn't know you were already a super soldier and that it would take a lot to kill you.  When we lost you we honestly thought you were dead.  We were in enemy territory and your body was hundreds of feet down a ravine.  We didn't look for you because we thought there would be nothing left of you.  Except someone was down there, found you, and took you to HYDRA, who recognized you as Prisoner 56898.  You survived the fall, Bucky, and they continued what they started in that factory in Austria.  They took your mind away from you, your free will, your memories, gave you an artificial arm because you lost your left one, and they turned you into the Fist of HYDRA, their super soldier, completely under their control."

He walked behind the counter, grabbed a whiskey bottle and two glasses, pouring out one for himself and Steve, then filled up the glasses of the other two men.  He drank his down right away then poured himself another.  None of the other three said a thing so he kept on talking.

"One of their scientists, a woman forced to work for them, developed a way to keep you frozen between assignments and it extended your lifespan.  From about 1951 until 2014 you performed dozens of assassinations that we know about, probably dozens more that were never recorded, and in all that time you were only defeated once by an American super soldier, another man who we're looking to add to my unit, if I can find him.  As their Fist you helped HYDRA shape history by killing people who would fight against them.  They hurt you, Bucky.  They did unspeakable things to you, not even thinking of you as a person, only their asset.   When you finally broke away from them in 2014 it helped to bring HYDRA down but it almost broke you, taking you years to recover.  I don't know if you ever recovered from the guilt you felt for your actions, even though you weren't responsible for them, because I left you there when the opportunity to return to this time came up.  I had to make a decision to stay and live with how I failed you or to come back and try again.  Although I couldn't do much for you then, I promised you that when I went back this time I would find you and keep them from implementing their plans for you.  I was just trying to protect my best friend, the man I admired since I was 12 years old.  Maybe by doing that it would help those who HYDRA affected either directly or indirectly."

He leaned on the counter, staring at the drink in his hand while Bucky looked at his before drinking it.  Howlett drank his while watching the other three.  Rogers ran his hand over his face.

"We keep this between ourselves," said the young captain.  "Not even the General learns about this, not yet anyway."

"Yeah, no shit," said Grant.  "There's already rumours, probably started by HYDRA that Bucky is a plant.  Deliberately allowed to be rescued so that he's their inside man."

Bucky looked at him in horror.  "You're serious?" Grant nodded.  "How did they get that out so quickly?"

"Because they've infiltrated a lot of different intelligence agencies already," said Grant.  "Hell, one of them got into the lab during the procedure on Steve to kill Dr. Erskine, pretending to represent the State Department.  That's what we're up against, Bucky.  Hitler wants to take over Europe, but HYDRA wants to take over the world.  We thought we stopped them in my time, but they just went underground and wormed their way back into key positions in many different governments.  We were that close to losing the world to them.  They sent you to kill me and my friends.  You almost succeeded."

"How did you stop me?" asked Bucky.

Grant didn't answer for the longest time and kept looking in his glass until he decided to hell with it.  "I stopped fighting and you beat me down to the point where you were ready to kill me.  I told you to finish it because I wouldn't fight you any more.    I said I was with you until the end of the line.  It was like a light went on in your mind.  I could see it in your eyes as you hesitated to give the final blow.  Later you said it was the flicker of memories of coming to my rescue when I was getting beaten up as a kid.  My face was all bloody and I was helpless; somehow it resonated with you.  We were fighting in an aircraft that was going down and I fell from it into the Potomac.  Next thing I know I woke up in a hospital, hurting something fierce.  They said you pulled me out of the river, called for an ambulance then you left.  You even stood guard over me, from a rooftop across from the hospital until I put a sign in the window telling you to leave because the CIA, police, and even what was left of HYDRA was looking for you.  The CIA were originally OSS during the war and they were complicit in your treatment over the years as well."  He wiped his face.  "It was all supposed to be simple, at first, to come back and stop what happened to you.  Then it just grew and grew into this ambitious plan that I have no idea if I can do any of it.  I didn't even know about some of the files that I brought back with me until they were printed out so obviously someone from the future made sure they made it back with me so I could change things in this timeline."

"Which is why you need the right people," said Howlett, finishing his drink.  "I'm guess I'm in.  I take it you'll arrange for my transfer to this squad?"

Grant nodded then he looked at Bucky, who smirked.  "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid," he said looking at Grant then at Rogers.  "Face it, you both need me, you punks."

"Are we good?" asked Grant.  Bucky nodded, putting his hand out to shake the other's who muttered at the dark-haired man.  "Jerk."

Steve echoed that sentiment.  Grant came out from behind the counter, leaving money on top of it for the bartender.  They all headed back out to where Rose and Raines had sat themselves at the same table as the future Howling Commandos.  As they were standing near the men the door opened and Peggy Carter walked in, wearing a red dress that seemed to light up the whole room.  The music stopped as she walked up to the group, her eyes on Steve Rogers.  Grant saw how Bucky was checking her out and leaned close to the dark-haired man.

"Forget it," he said.  "She's not interested in you.  Steve's always been her guy.  Besides, he's had to watch you so many times it's about time you found out if he picked up anything from the master."

Bucky smirked but said nothing, still watching, then acknowledged the truth of it, as he heard her tell Steve to be at HQ at 08:00 the following morning to meet with Howard Stark.  She looked at all of them before she left but just as she opened the door she turned once more and looked directly at the young captain.  There was no doubt her smile was for him as evidenced by his blush and shy smile.  It was obvious Bucky was going to have to make sure his friend knew how to proceed from there.  As he watched the others and smiled at some of the bullshit stories that were being traded once Peggy left he glanced back at Grant, leaning against the bar while talking to Steve.  He hadn't been ready to trust the man but when Grant told the three of them what Bucky became and how he had fought that version of him it was like an epiphany.  There were still things he hadn't given them the details of but it was obvious he was there to keep Bucky out of HYDRA's hands.  That meant a lot.  It also meant Bucky was in.

Chapter Text

While Steve was at HQ to meet with Howard Stark, Bucky was waiting to be examined by Dr. Erskine and Major Lambert. On Lambert's and Lt. Hay's arrival in London they had proceeded directly to a lab set up for Dr. Erskine carrying Bucky's blood sample in the small cooler. In the last few days, the two doctors had studied his blood, exposing it to all sorts of tests, solutions, and outside stimuli before sending for the soldier. Receiving a direct order to report to the doctors Bucky showed up and sat, fidgeting, in an outer office. When Lt. Hay appeared and smiled at him, he felt much better.

"Sergeant Barnes, please come with me."

Walking behind her he couldn't help but watch her in her nurse's uniform, admiring her figure.

"How long have you been a nurse?" he asked.

"Since I graduated at the top of my class from college," she replied, looking back once at him. "I was recruited into the SSR before I graduated. That was in 1941."

He did the mental math. "So, you're what, 25? That's awfully young to be involved in a top-secret experiment."

"You're only 26, Sergeant," she replied, stopping at a door with an MP on guard. Her eyes assessed him as she looked up at Bucky. "I've heard most sergeants are much more experienced and come with attitude."

"I have the attitude and the experience, sweetheart," grinned Bucky. "Don't you worry about that."

She turned to the MP and nodded. He opened the door, then glared at Bucky, not thrilled about him flirting with the attractive nurse, seeing as how he had his own designs on her. Once she entered the lab, she was all business, and took her place at the end of the examination bed. Dr. Erskine and Major Lambert were bent over a report on a desk and turned around when they heard the pair enter.

"Sergeant Barnes, may I introduce Dr. Abraham Erskine," said the major.

"Doc," waved Bucky, then he looked at the older man with recognition as he sat on the bed. "You were at the Stark Expo. I saw you at the army recruitment centre there."

"I was, Sergeant," replied Erskine. "I witnessed you saying goodbye to Steven. The friendship between you was very much evident at that time. I am pleased that he was able to rescue you from Arnim Zola. It was unfortunate that Special Agent Grant wasn't able to convince General Phillips not to send your unit into battle. The serum that was administered to you after your capture worked but it is a poor imitation of my serum."

"What does that mean?" asked Bucky, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

"The blood sample that was taken from you shows the serum hasn't affected you as deeply as the one which Steven has. You reported increased appetite, and healing capabilities when the Major examined you in Italy. Anything else since then?"

"I couldn't get drunk," admitted Bucky. "Yesterday I had about six doubles of scotch and didn't feel anything from it."

"Have you noticed an increase in strength, speed, endurance, or any other physical manifestation?" asked Major Lambert.

"No, but we've been relaxing since we got back," said Bucky. "We're starting training tomorrow. I guess it would show up then, wouldn't it?"

"The Sergeant could try to lift something here, in the lab," suggested Lt. Hay, gesturing to a large cabinet. "That has to weigh several hundred pounds. Perhaps we should also take his physical measurements, height, weight, and body measurements... to see if those change over time."

"Ja, we should do that," said Erskine. "Steven's change was visible immediately, but he received a massive dose of the serum, followed by the radiation treatment. Sergeant Barnes received an unknown amount of serum, administered over several days, and no radiation, at least none that we know of, although you were subject to an electrical charge, is that correct?" Bucky nodded. "As for lifting weights, I would rather we have accurate weights for the Sergeant to lift so that we can keep track of any increase in his capability." He noticed Bucky scowling. "Forgive me for talking about you instead of with you, Sergeant. May I call you by your first name, James? I don't want you to feel that you are a laboratory animal, under observation. The changes to you are permanent but understanding the differences between my serum and the serum you received is a priority for me, for your own health and peace of mind."

"Thanks, Doc, I appreciate that," said Bucky. He could understand why Steve liked him.

"Very good," smiled Erskine. "As for the serum, I am still some ways away from duplicating it. Until I do you will not be subjected to any testing of it. In fact, we would test your blood first before even requesting your permission to try it on your body. Remember, you always have the right to reject the serum. We are not HYDRA, subjecting you to anything without your consent. Major, if you would please examine James again and Lieutenant, if you would please undertake the physical measurements of him."

Both of them murmured, "Yes Doctor," to Erskine and Bucky was asked to disrobe down to his boxers so that Major Lambert could give him a full physical examination, with Lt. Hay marking the results down on a paper attached to a clipboard. Once the doctors finished their portion of the examination the lieutenant took Bucky over to a weigh scale to measure his height and weight.

"Do you recall what your height and weight were at the end of your basic training?" she asked.

"5 feet, 11 inches," said Bucky, trying to see her eyes better. "170 pounds. I boxed, was YMCA welterweight champion three years in a row. I gained more muscle in basic."

He watched Lt. Hay for any reaction, but she kept it professional as she asked him to stand on the weight scale and slid the weights into place.

"You've gained weight," she said, peering at where the weights lined up. "You're now 185 pounds. Were you fed well at the HYDRA factory?"

"Nope, we were starved," he replied. "But I'm hungry all the time now and I've eaten well since we were rescued."

She looked at his body. "I would say your body is pre-disposed to converting your caloric intake into building up your existing muscles. Were you always this well-built?"

"Like I said, I was a boxer," he grinned, then he licked his lips as he stood while she measured his height. "I'm good with my body."

"6 feet even," she said, ignoring his comment. "You've grown an inch. Please extend your arms out to the side."

"You seeing anyone?" he asked, then smiled when he noticed a slight pinkish hue on her cheeks.

"Yes, an Air Force lieutenant," she replied, running the measuring tape around his chest. She marked down the measurement, then took his waist and hips. While she was marking his hip measurement Bucky watched her closely with more than a little amusement.

"Is it serious?"

"Yes, it is," she answered. "Turn around." She measured across his back at the shoulders, then his biceps in both a relaxed and curled position. "Stand with your legs apart so I can measure your thighs."

Bucky did as he was asked, seemingly enjoying as she wrapped the measuring tape around the thickest parts of each thigh. She then measured his calf muscles, before finishing up with his neck measurement. As she looked up at the tape, he looked down at her, fixing his gaze on her face. Her eyes were hazel and very nice.

"You should go out with me," he said, in a voice low enough only she could hear, running his fingertip along the back of her hand. "I found a little pub nearby with a quiet room in back. We could get to know each other."

"I'm taken," she replied, then she looked him in the eye. "I also outrank you and we could both get into trouble for fraternization, although I'm the one who would likely suffer the greater punishment. As attractive as you are, Sergeant, it's not going to happen. You can put your clothes back on and I'll ask the doctors if you can be dismissed."

She turned away from him to report her findings to the doctors. He gave out a little huff at being summarily turned down. It wasn't a usual thing for him, and he put his hand over his mouth, breathing into it to see if his breath was bad. When he was finished dressing, she returned and told him he could leave. Nodding his head he walked to the door, turning just before he left to see if she was watching but she wasn't. With a shrug he walked through and headed for the mess hall as he was hungry.

"No, we're not using this man," said Steven Grant, firmly, as he sat in the passenger seat of the Jeep and looked at the file of the man Corporal Rose had found.

The man, a thief, was currently being incarcerated in the 6833rd Guardhouse Overhead Detachment in Somerset, where they sat outside the gate. Found guilty of breaking into his commanding officer's file cabinet and removing a disciplinary report charging a fellow soldier with insubordination, the man, a native of the lower east side of New York, had put up a fight when he was discovered. Knocking out two men before he was put into custody, he had refused to say anything since, leading to his sentence of 6 months in the military prison.

"Look, you said yourself that we need a break-in specialist because some of these places are going to have locks in place that you can't break," said Rose. "He was only caught because his lookout got scared and abandoned him. He's the best and is well known in New York criminal circles. He also volunteered for the army so he's a patriot. If you don't use him then we're back at square one and I know I won't be able to find another one good enough in the time frame we have."

"You don't understand," said Grant, breathing heavily. "I know the name. If he's who I think he is, his own grandson or great grandson becomes a member of HYDRA in the 21st century. The picture looks just like a man who betrayed me and was one of Bucky's abusers."

"What's to say that you using him now won't change the other man's future?" asked Rose. "You ever thought of that? You keep saying that there are people you have to save from HYDRA. Well, maybe this guy's family is one of them and putting him on your team sets the stage so that his grandson doesn't become that man who betrayed you. Maybe it's the way to make him an honourable man."

Grant sighed and ran his hand over his face. Trust a Roma corporal to throw his own words back at him. He looked at the file again. Benjamin Rumlow, age 31, volunteer for the army, demolitions expert, former safecracker. Married, one son, and the spitting image of a younger Brock Rumlow.

"Fine, we'll go in and talk to him," said Grant. "I'll decide once I meet him, but I won't make any promises. What about Bradley? Have you located his unit yet?" Rose looked down at his hands. "What's wrong?"

"He's all that's left of his unit," said Rose. "He's here, in this prison, in solitary confinement."

"What?" Grant glared at him. Rose shrugged. "Why is he here?"

"Not sure, but the Germans had him, that much I do know," said Rose. "He escaped but when he got back here, he was court-martialled, found guilty of some trumped up charge and sentenced to solitary. He's been here since August."

Steven thought furiously. Every file he had on Isaiah Bradley said he fought with an African American unit in World War II, then stayed in the army after the war ended. Part of the secret group serum experiment in the late 1940s he was one of seven who survived the treatment. The others were either killed or captured by the Winter Soldier during the Korean War. Bradley was sent to Korea to confront HYDRA's weapon. Surprisingly, to HYDRA, at least, he defeated the Winter Soldier, ripping his artificial arm apart. For his efforts, he was imprisoned by the CIA, supposedly dying by suicide in 1953. At least, that is what SHIELD was told when they learned of his existence. In reality, he was held prisoner, experimented on by both the CIA and HYDRA, until a sympathetic nurse helped him fake his death in the early 1980s. Another man's existence who Steven didn't learn about until just before he returned to the past, courtesy of Dr. Strange.

"Alright," he said. "Time to bring out the real Special Agent Steven Grant of the Army Counter Intelligence Corps. Let's go see our two final candidates."

Both men approached the guard detail at the entrance to the military prison. From the looks on their faces these weren't run-of-the-mill soldiers turned into guards. By the stony looks they gave Grant when they said no to his ID, they were used to denying access inside. Placing his hand back inside his jacket he pulled out a paper.

"I have my orders, gentlemen," he said, waving it in front of them. "I'm here to speak to two of your inmates. They both have skills that are needed for a top-secret unit. You can see my orders are signed by General Chester Phillips and General Eisenhower himself. Now, either you let us in to speak with your commandant or I'll advise General Phillips that you were interfering with an intelligence operation of vital importance to the war effort. I hear they may create a special unit whose primary duty will be the cleaning of latrines at bases all through England, staffed with soldiers who interfered with the operations of Army CIC."

With the slightest of grunts one of them opened the door for them then escorted them to the commandant's office, leading them inside. Grant looked at Rose, rolling his eyes slightly. One barrier down, more to come. A rather severe looking sergeant sat at a desk and looked up at them as they approached. He didn't say a word when Grant introduced himself and Rose.

"I have orders allowing me to speak with two of your inmates," he said. "Privates Benjamin Rumlow and Isaiah Bradley are needed for a special unit."

"No," said the sergeant. "Good day, Special Agent Grant."

"You don't understand," said Grant. "I have orders signed by Eisenhower himself that I am permitted to choose who I need from this facility."

The sergeant put his hand out for the orders, then read it before handing the paper back. Standing up, he knocked on the inner office door and entered it, closing it behind him. Emerging a minute later he left the door open and nodded at the two men.

"You may go in," was all he said.

The two men entered, and Grant took in a quick breath. Colonel John Flynn sat in front of him, former second in command to Chester Phillips, demoted after it was revealed he had given the okay to Senator Brandt bringing a guest to the Project Rebirth procedure that turned Steve Rogers into a super soldier. The guest, Heinz Kruger, posing as Fred Clemson of the State Department, had succeeded in killing Dr. Erskine in Steven's original timeline but not in this one.

"Special Agent Grant," said the man, who looked up and frowned. "Have I met you before?"

"Perhaps in New York," admitted Grant. "I was at the lab when the HYDRA agent shot Dr. Erskine."

The man's mouth stiffened in response. "Yes, that must be it. Why do you need to speak to two of my inmates?"

"Need to know, Colonel," said Grant. "I have orders from General Eisenhower and General Phillips to assign men with particular skills to my unit. It allows me to pull them from whatever situation they are in."

Flynn sat back in his chair, trying to portray himself as being the one in charge, although he was sitting and the other two were standing. Even though his sergeant had mentioned the orders to him and was now on the phone verifying them he found it hard to believe that the Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force would allow two dangerous prisoners to be taken from custody to join a special forces unit. Especially when one of the men was a common criminal and the other was a Negro there under strict orders. He said as much to the Army CIC agent.

Grant kept his temper. "I can only tell you that their abilities will be needed behind enemy lines," he said. "Surely, giving them the opportunity to serve their country should be seen as important, Colonel."

"They are being punished for their transgressions, Special Agent Grant," reiterated Flynn. "You taking them interferes in army discipline." The phone on his desk buzzed and Flynn answered it, his face only slightly betraying his irritation. He hung up and looked impassively at the two men. "It appears you have the power to take the men. My sergeant will process their release immediately."

Grant started to protest that he wanted to speak with the men first, but Rose whispered in his ear. "Sir, just take them. If they aren't what you want, I'm sure you can get them reassigned. This guy has a major stick up his ass."

Straightening up Grant nodded, and Flynn dismissed them to wait in the outer office. They didn't see him again as the sergeant took the release forms inside for the Colonel's signature. When the two prisoners came out, escorted by two MPs, Grant was surprised to see how big Isaiah Bradley was. The man was massive, but he was also obviously traumatized as he found it hard to keep his eyes open in the bright lit office and his demeanour was one of defeat and almost subservience. After signing for the two men Grant and Rose led them down to the Jeep where Grant looked at Bradley with concern.

"Private, you were in solitary confinement?"

A slight nod was followed with barely more than a whisper in response. "Yes sir, since August. What is it now, sir?"

"November," said Grant, remembering he had sunglasses in his inside pocket. Taking them out he offered them to Bradley. "Wear these, Private, so your eyes don't hurt. We'll get you both squared away with some of your own, some clothing, and decent food. Why did they court martial you?"

Bradley breathed out a little as he put the sunglasses on. "I survived. I wasn't supposed to, I guess."

The other three men looked at each other with alarm then they all got into the Jeep. "Get us the hell out of here," ordered Grant.

Inside the prison Colonel John Flynn was on the phone, explaining to the person on the other end of the call that he had just released Private Isaiah Bradley to a Special Agent Steven Grant from Army CIC. He very angrily defended his actions, telling the person on the other end that Grant's orders gave him the right to request any inmate and that he requested Bradley by name, as well as a common criminal in for theft. Whoever he was speaking to must have said something derogatory because Flynn took it, becoming red in the face as he listened. Then he hung up and looked out the window, rueing the day he ever agreed to let a man from the State Department into the Project Rebirth lab.

As Rose drove the Jeep for the almost three hour drive back to London, Steven Grant turned back towards Bradley, still concerned about the condition and behaviour of the man. Bradley was a private now but had been a sergeant before his court martial.

"Private, what was it that you weren't meant to survive?" he asked.

"A mission, to Germany," said the quiet man. "Seven of us, from the same project were sent in June to intercept supplies to Camp Schwarzebitte. One died en route, a reaction from the serum." Grant looked at Rose who shook his head. "Three more died in the battle to stop the supplies. Then we were ordered to stand down and wait for the Project Rebirth super soldier to arrive but he didn't and the other two died fighting each other, after the one heard his parents had died, believing he was already dead. Apparently, they told all of our families that we were dead. That left me as the only super soldier. I stole a Captain America suit, as I heard it had more protection than a regular army uniform, and found a shield lying around. I went back to Schwarzebitte. It was a German super soldier project, headed by some doctor called Ernst Koch. I tried to free the PoWs they were using but I was captured and tortured. An anti-Nazi resistance group got me out of there and smuggled me back to Allied lines. I was arrested, charged with desertion, theft of army property and court-martialled. They sent me to the prison and said I would be in solitary confinement until the Army decided what to do with me. I assume the Army has decided now that you've come for me."

Even with the sunglasses on he looked at Grant with a sense of defeat and acceptance of whatever they were going to do with him. Grant's surprise at hearing Bradley refer to Project Rebirth and the serum was now replaced by a sense of growing anger at the treatment the man and his fellow soldiers had received. Anger that was directed at General Phillips, and possibly even Dr. Erskine. Had there been two projects, with one using black soldiers and the other using Steve Rogers? By keeping Rogers away from action for so long, had General Phillips doomed those other soldiers to die? He was going to get to the bottom of it, before anything else.

"Private Bradley, whatever was done to you wasn't done with my knowledge," he said. "In fact, I'm appalled at the treatment you received. I promise you, that I will find out the truth. Before I start investigating, I want to know two things. Did you receive the super soldier serum and who was in charge of the project?"

"Yes, sir, I received the serum from Dr. Josef Reinstein," said Bradley. "He was the doctor on Project Super Soldier. General Saunders was in charge of it all at Camp Cathcart. Dr. Reinstein said the serum wasn't ready when he gave it to us, but the General ordered it to be done. Said we had to be ready before Project Rebirth was ready to go."

Throughout this exchange Private Rumlow sat quietly in the Jeep, still wondering why he had been released to be part of something that sounded like special forces. How had they found out about him? Regardless, he was glad he was out of that prison. There was something not quite right about that place and anywhere was better than it.

Chapter Text

The first thing Grant did when they finally arrived at the London base was to get quarters assigned to Bradley and Rumlow, and arrange for their clothing kit.  He sent Rose to find Captain Rogers, demanding a meeting as soon as possible with him.  When Steve arrived, he was still disturbed at the tone with which he was summoned.  All of that was replaced by his own righteous anger when Grant told him what he had found out about Isaiah Bradley.

"There was a second super soldier project?  You're sure that's what he said?" 

Steve stood there in the briefing room with Grant and Corporal Rose, not quite believing what he had just heard.  

"That's what Bradley said," confirmed Grant.  "Rose heard it.  So did Private Rumlow.  They kept Bradley in solitary confinement and by how sensitive his eyes were to the light they kept him in the dark, literally.  He went on his own to destroy the Nazi base where their super soldier project was underway.  Nazi ... not HYDRA.  Then they court-martialled him for desertion and theft of your Captain America uniform.  It must have been a tight fit because he's a bigger man than you.  What worries me the most is that the doctor of his project said the serum wasn't ready, but they still injected him with it.  What if it has side effects like the HYDRA version?"

"Then he needs my serum as well," said Steve.  "We have to confront General Phillips and Dr. Erskine, although I can't believe the doctor knew about this.  He wouldn't have injected anyone if the serum wasn't ready."

"You're right but what if he wasn't given a choice?  Maybe this came from higher up."  Grant rubbed his forehead.  It was almost too much to take in.  "We have to see the General and Dr. Erskine now.  There's no other way to find out the truth."  Grant turned to Corporal Rose.  "Would you make sure that Bradley is squared away, then bring him over to the lab?"

While Rose went to the barracks Grant and Rogers headed to the lab where they could see through the window that Dr. Erskine was talking to Peggy Carter.  Major Lambert and Lieutenant Hay were nowhere to be seen.  The two super soldiers looked at each other, then Grant shrugged.

"She was cleared for Project Rebirth," he stated.  "As far as I'm concerned, she should be in the know about this as well."

The MP opened the door for them allowing them into the lab.  Peggy stopped speaking and turned towards the two men, noticing the looks on their faces.

"What is it?" she asked.  "What's happened?"

"Did either of you know about Project Super Soldier?" Grant looked from her to the doctor.  Erskine looked puzzled but Peggy frowned.  Had she known about it?  "Answer me."

She sighed.  "Yes, but it was stopped over two years ago when Dr. Nagel said there were issues with the serum.  Shortly after, we learned of Dr. Erskine's location and were able to rescue him, bringing him here.  He was already further along in his research than Dr. Nagel was.  All resources were to be focused on Project Rebirth."

"Who is Dr. Josef Reinstein?" asked Grant, to which Erskine now frowned, at the pronunciation using the German form of Joseph.

"I used the alias Dr. Joseph Reinstein to escape from Germany to Switzerland," he said.  "I didn't use the German variation of Joseph.  What is this about Project Super Soldier?"

"Did you know they were using African American test subjects, not giving them the choice to refuse the serum?" asked Grant, focusing on Peggy.

"That's also one of the reasons that project was shut down," she declared, her face blushing.  She shook her head, angrily.  "I can only guess that General Saunders relocated it to another base and kept Dr. Nagel on it but gave him a different name so that it wouldn't be associated with the doctor.  How did you find out about it?"

The door to the lab opened and Corporal Rose walked in with Private Bradley.  Peggy looked at him with some alarm then back at Grant and Rogers.  

"Private Isaiah Bradley," said Agent Grant.  "This is Dr. Erskine and Agent Peggy Carter of the SSR.  Have you met either of them before?"

"No sir," replied the soldier.  "I recall Dr. Nagel referring to Agent Carter.  He wasn't very complimentary, and I would rather not repeat his words about the lady.  Sorry, ma'am."

"Private Bradley was given serum by a Dr. Reinstein who freely admitted it wasn't ready," said Grant. "He was one of seven men to receive it who were all sent on a mission to Germany.  The others died either from the serum or the mission.  Only Bradley survived.  He went back to Germany to destroy a Nazi super soldier facility but was captured and tortured.  Rescued by a German anti-Nazi resistance unit he was led back to allied lines where he was arrested for desertion, and theft, then court-martialled, and sentenced to solitary confinement.  We found him this morning and I used my standing orders to get him out of there.  Someone didn't want us to know about him."

Peggy looked back at Grant.  "You brought his name with you, didn't you?  But you weren't expecting to find him already a super soldier?"

"No, I think this timeline was changed before I got here," he admitted.  "Private Bradley shouldn't have been transformed until the end of the decade.  Do you think General Phillips knew?"

"Knew what?" said the General's voice, as he walked in with Major Lambert and Lieutenant Hay.  He noticed Isaiah Bradley and came up to him, looking up at the big man.  "I assume you're Private Isaiah Bradley?"

"Yes sir," replied the super soldier.

"I'm glad Special Agent Grant was able to get you out of that prison," he said.  "I received a phone call from Colonel Flynn informing me that Grant took you and a Private Rumlow from custody.  I was hoping Flynn would finally do the right thing and release you."

"You knew he was in there?" Grant stood angrily in front of the General.  "How long were you willing to let him stay in there before they ...."

Phillips cut him off.  "I've been trying ever since that sham of a court martial.  Project Super Soldier was mothballed for a reason.  That serum had major health issues associated with it and the fact they were using forced test subjects was against everything we've been fighting for.  Then my former West Point classmate General Maxfield Saunders packed everything up and relocated it to his new post in Cathcart, Mississippi.  That's where you were encouraged to "volunteer", wasn't it Bradley?"

"Yes sir," replied Bradley.  "Two battalions, told we were being given vaccinations, when we were receiving the serum instead.  Most of them died."

"I'm sorry.  Not enough to look at you with a clear conscience, I know."  Phillips shook his head and took his cap off.  "Sometimes I hate being in the position I'm in.  I am a General, yes, but I answer to others, and they made the decision to hide the evidence of Project Super Soldier, including the last surviving test subject, Private Bradley.  I hoped with the standing orders that General Eisenhower signed with me that you would be able to get the Private out of that hell hole.  Flynn was under orders to keep him under wraps.  Looks like you pulled one over on them, Grant."

"So that's it?  I'm supposed to accept that you manipulated me into doing what any decent commander should have done."

"If you want to think of it that way, so be it," replied the General.  "Yes, it's your name on the release form but it's still my name and Eisenhower's name approving the standing orders.  No one will question that decision now and you've brought another asset into the fight, a good one from what I heard."  He contemplated something for a moment then looked as if he made a decision.  "Your first mission will be a joint one, with both squads, the Howling Commandos and the Phantom Patrol.  You go back to that Nazi super soldier camp, and you rescue our boys, then blow that place to kingdom come.  Grant, you can interrogate the scientists there, winnow out those who are true believers from those who were forced to work for the enemy.  Private, you have every right to refuse this mission but I'm asking you as one old soldier to a man who already proved his bravery by going back by himself to that camp.  Will you join Special Agent Grant's squad?  You'll be working mostly in the shadows but it's important work."

The big man seemed to grow noticeably as he straightened to his full height, then looked down at the General.  

"My court martial.  Can you get it overturned and my rank restored?"

"I'll do my best, as an officer and a gentleman.  I'll also advise your wife that you are alive and well.  For now, I would like you to be examined by Dr. Erskine and Major Lambert.  They'll be able to tell if the serum you received was pure enough not to cause you difficulties and advise you if they find otherwise.  Gentlemen, ladies."

He put his cap back and left the lab.  Bradley waited for Grant to say something. 

"You're a free man to decide as you please, Private," he said.  "For now, have your examination and I'll come by later to introduce you to both squads at the mess hall."  He looked at Rogers.  "We should have a gathering at the pub after with both of our squads before we get down to business tomorrow.  Let off a little steam.  Agreed?"

Whip & Fiddle Pub, that evening

Several hours later the combined squads were at the pub, taking advantage of the tab opened for them by Captain Rogers and Special Agent Grant.  The two leaders of the squads sat in the corner of the busy establishment, observing the ongoing socialization of their two units.  What began at the mess hall when they sat with their sergeants and watched the enlisted men as they began interacting with each other continued in the more jovial atmosphere in the pub.  What was interesting to Grant and Sergeant Howlett was how his squad seemed to be more observational in their dealings with Rogers' team.  Corporal Rose sat back, smoking his cigarette while listening in on the various anecdotes being told by Dum Dum Dugan and Jim Morita.  Raines and Rumlow also sat back but contributed brief comments asking for clarification then offered ready laughter when it was called for.  Bradley was quiet, nursing a single beer for a long interval, although he asked Jones a question from time to time, receiving earnest answers from the young private.  Major Falsworth studied everyone, from both squads, even looking over to the leaders every so often.

"You're telling me that a British Major will take orders from an American Captain?" said Howlett.  "Never knew a Limey officer to do that."

"Falsworth was good," said Grant.  "Paratrooper like you.  His marksmanship was exemplary, same with his tactical skills and I'd put him up with the best of the British Commandos in hand to hand combat.  He agreed to become a Howlie because he believed in what they were doing.  They all did, Sergeant."

"Well, we'll just have to be as good or better than you remember them," said the Canadian soldier.  "We have one less man.  Is there anyone else left to recruit for our squad?"

"Yes, there may be someone, but we won't be able to keep him," said Grant.  "He's important for the future of the SSR and the fight against HYDRA but it means we'll have to let him go on his own mission in about a year."

He didn't elaborate and Howlett drank some of his whiskey, then took a drag on his cigar.  

"Here comes trouble," said Bucky, nodding to where several American soldiers arrived at the door, looking with disgust at Jones and Bradley.

All four of them sat up, but Grant put his hand out.  "Let's see how it develops before we intervene."

"You'd think they'd clean the trash up inside their pubs," drawled one of the Americans, his southern accent as thick as molasses.  "Hey boy, who allowed you in here?"

The men of the Commandos and the Patrol both stopped talking and looked at the group of soldiers.

"Are you gentlemen speaking to one of our party?" asked Falsworth, his manner polite, but his eyes razor sharp.

"I'm speaking to the coloured boys in your party," snapped the soldier, sneering at use of the word party to describe the group.  "They ain't welcome here."

"Funny, no one's said anything before," answered Falsworth.  "You have a problem with them, then you aren't welcome, and I speak for everyone here."

"Cap," muttered Bucky, his eyes burning as he readied to launch himself at the newcomers.

"Wait, Buck," murmured Steve.  "Let them handle it."

He nodded towards the other soldiers and the civilians who were also in the pub, all of them seeming to be ready to jump to the defence of Jones and Bradley.  With a sneer the soldier who spoke strode over to Bradley and tried to pull him out of his chair.  The Private planted himself further into the chair, preventing the man's efforts from having any effect on him.

"What the hell?" muttered the man.  "Hey, I'm talking to you.  Get up."

Bradley didn't look at him but took a drink before putting the glass down and standing up, dwarfing the man.  As he did so the others stood with him, encircling the group of men who had entered.  Nervously, the other newcomers tried to pull their friend away from Bradley.

"Roy, leave him alone," said one of them, leaning close.  "We're outnumbered here.  We can find another place to have a drink."

"No, I want this boy to know his place," replied the aforementioned Roy, oblivious to the danger he was in.

"Who are you calling a boy?" Bradley growled, and the others who had been sitting with him grinned.

"My good fellow," said Falsworth, placing himself so that Roy had no choice but to look at him.  "I can tell you with certainty that this is no boy.  This is a man, just out of prison, after savagely killing almost a hundred Nazis all by himself.  They were terrified of him in the prison, and allowed him to join our special forces squad for a mission deep in enemy territory.  We kind of like him because he makes little Southern boys like you who think they're better than they are, wet their pants.  Your friends have already left you behind, having recognized the danger they were in.  But you, in your quest to prove your superior skin colour is now surrounded by this man's friends and squad mates.  I will let you know something ... we don't like you, because you don't know when you've already lost.  So be a good little Southern boy, and find someone to sell you a fizzy pop, while you think about how close you came to being a casualty before you even got to the front, you gormless git."

The Major never once raised his voice but there was no doubting the menace that was in his warning to the soldier, a menace that was reinforced by the intensity of the men surrounding the soldier.  Dernier said something in French which Jones laughed at.

"Our French colleague wants to know if you are the "roi des cons" meaning the king of idiots," said Jones.  "Personally, I don't think you're the king of them, more like the village idiot yourself."

"Who do you think you're talking to, n—!" 

He was cut off as Bradley picked him up by his collar with one hand, raising him overhead.  Both Rogers and Grant stood up then, but Corporal Rose shook his head at both men from where he stood and looked up at the terrified soldier.

"Say you're sorry to both gentlemen," he suggested.  "Then walk out of here alive with what's left of your dignity.  You're out of options, Private."

The way Rose said it must have finally sunk into the man's brain because he apologized and Bradley lowered him, then released his collar, all while staring into the man's eyes.  Looking all around the soldier straightened his collar then walked out without a backward glance.  The piano player began playing again and the bartender came with a tray of beers and whiskeys, telling them it was on the house. Dum Dum picked up a beer and handed it to Bradley.  It took a moment for the super soldier to accept it, but he did, and Dum Dum lifted his own glass of beer to him.

"Here's to Private Bradley for keeping his head around that asshole.  I'm not sure you would have needed our help but I'm glad we didn't have to find out.  Cheers!"

Both men drained it then Bradley loosened up a lot, and the atmosphere in the pub changed considerably.  The four men at the other table relaxed.  Grant and Rogers both downed a shot of whisky.

"He'll be alright," said Howlett.  "I think Bradley needs to be sure we'll all have his back.  Did your doctors find anything out about him?"

"They're still studying his blood," said Grant.  "It's a different serum than HYDRA's version.  He had issues in the future which they attributed to the serum variant, but it may have had more to do with the treatment he received.  I'm hoping that believing we support him will help counteract anything that comes up.  Anyways, both you sergeants make sure the boys are in bed by midnight.  We're up at 06:00 for chow, and on the obstacle course by 07:00.  Understood?"

With an informal salute from both sergeants Grant and Rogers both left, returning to the base to begin planning the joint mission to Germany.

The following morning no one seemed to have any ill effects from the evening spent at the pub.  All the super soldiers piled up their plates, devouring their meals to the grins of the others.  Reporting to the obstacle course Rogers had everyone running first, a brisk 2 mile run around the course to get the blood warmed up, he told them.  Then they began the attack on the course, going through simulated physical conditions they could expect out on the mission.  An assault on a wooden tower, built with a slanted but slick wall with no ropes to grasp onto proved a problem until Bradley jumped to the top of it, wedged himself in place then leaned to grasp the others as either Barnes or Howlett gave them a lift up, super soldier style.  When Bradley easily pulled Dum Dum up using one arm the big Irish-American grinned at bigger man.

"How much can you lift?" he asked.

"Don't know," replied Bradley.  "They're bringing in weights for Sgt. Barnes and me to figure that out.  How much can you lift?"

"A lot," he admitted as he straddled the top of the wall.  "I was a circus strongman, but I was also the real deal.  Not one of those fakers who wrote 500 lbs on his barbells.  I deadlifted 550 lbs just before the war and was only goofing around.  My best at a circus performance was an overhead lift of 510 lbs.  Just about killed me."

A yell from Howlett to get moving interrupted the conversation and the two men jumped down to go on to the next obstacle.  As the morning went on a friendly rivalry developed between the two of them that brought smiles to both their faces as they began a friendship that would last a long time.  After a break for lunch the two squads returned with their rifles as they progressed to the shooting range.  Dernier learned that Rumlow was the demolitions man for the Patrol and placed himself next to the New Yorker, questioning him about his preferences in explosives.

"Well, I'm used to breaking safes open without damaging the contents," said the dark-haired safecracker.  "I understand you have some experience with the Resistance taking on bigger targets.  Whatever help you can give me in handling them would be greatly appreciated."  He stopped talking for a moment then looked at the Frenchman.  "How do you say Fucking Nazis in French."

"Putains de Nazis but fucking Nazis works for me also," replied Dernier as he spat onto the ground.  "Putains d'HYDRA for good measure."

"Fucking right, my friend," grinned Rumlow.  "What's my friend in French?"

"Mon ami," answered Dernier, smiling at this younger American who seemed to be happy to be part of the second squad.  "I'll teach you French, yes?  And you teach me about American women."

"Deal," said the younger man.  "Except I'm married so I stopped looking because I love my wife."

"No mistress?"

Before Rumlow could answer both men were yelled at by Howlett to knock off the chatter.  With an amused look between them they returned to firing at the targets.  Raines said something in German to which Jones laughed, making him look over at the young American.

"You speak German?"

"Two years of it in college until I got smarter about French women being more attractive," replied Jones.  "Your accent is good."

"I was living in Poland when Germany invaded.  Joined the partisans then made my way to England and joined the English Army until the Americans got into it." 

"Drafted," replied Jones.  "We were at the factory when you were there.  Thought we lost Sarge until he showed up with Cap."  He leaned closer to Raines.  "What's the deal with Grant and Rogers?  They related?"

Raines realized that not everyone was in on the big secret about the two men but it wasn't going to come out of his mouth.  He shook his head.  "Need to know and I don't know most of it.  If I were you I would ask to be clued in when we have our first planning briefing."

When everyone got a cigarette break half an hour later Raines noticed Jones going over to Morita and Falsworth, asking them something.  They looked at him first, then at both sergeants before motioning to Dum Dum and Dernier to join them.  Going over to where the two sergeants were smoking, Raines waited until he was acknowledged.  

"They're asking questions about Grant and Rogers," he said.  "I only heard a little bit but they're in the dark, aren't they Sergeant Barnes?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, exhaling some cigarette smoke as he did and eyeing Howlett.  "Time for need to know, I guess."  He looked at Raines.  "You only know what you heard in the snug, right?"

Raines nodded.  "Rose knows more.  Rumlow doesn't.  I'm guessing Bradley figured it out as he hasn't questioned anything."

Howlett stood up.  "I'll go get them.  Might as well get it over with as soon as we can otherwise, they'll be questioning everything."

Striding away towards the barracks, Howlett returned ten minutes later to all of the Howling Commandos standing together while Barnes tried to placate them.  The Phantom Patrol soldiers sat uneasily, wanting to say something but cautioned by Barnes that it wasn't their place.  Howlett called them all to attention, noticing that the Commandos were slow to obey, openly showing their distrust of Special Agent Grant.

"I have the rank of Major," said Grant.  "Army CIC policy is not to use rank but I will if I have to."  He looked with some exasperation at the men he worked with when he was Captain America the first time, not remembering them being this suspicious.  "It's been suggested that there is something that connects Captain Rogers and myself together.  You're right, there is but it's going to take some believing on your part."  He stopped in front of Dum Dum.  "You met Bucky Barnes at Grand Central when you bumped into him before you were transported to Wisconsin for basic.  Your wife is Kathleen, a dark-haired beauty that you fell in love with when she came to the circus on the arm of another man while you were performing.  She must have liked you because she married you less than a month later.  You had three boys before you shipped out and got Kathleen in the family way before you left.  Your daughter, Bridget, won't be a baby anymore when you get back, but she'll always be Daddy's little girl."  Dum Dum started to talk but Grant shook his head, stopping at Jones.  "You weren't supposed to be in the 107th but some jackass of a clerk marked your race as white.  When you showed up with your travel orders at Grand Central Station, they weren't going to let you on until Bucky pointed out that would make you AWOL.  He and Dum Dum convinced them to let you on the train and you three stayed close from then on.  You met his friend Steve when you returned home for leave but never figured he would end up looking like Steve Rogers, Captain America, not even when he showed up at that factory in Austria and asked where Bucky was being kept."  He waved Rogers forward and both men took their hats off, while Grant took his glasses off.  "Imagine me with the same hair colour and twelve years younger."

"Holy Mary, Mother of God," said Dum Dum, after several moments peering at the two men, then crossing himself.  "You're him.  He's you.  What the hell?  Gabe, they're the same.  You're not twins because of your different ages but what are you?"

"I was Steve Rogers," said Grant.  "Until something happened and I ended up frozen in the Arctic for 70 years, just barely alive because of the serum.  I woke up in 2011, just in time for something out of a nightmare, an invasion by a bunch of creatures from space.  We beat them back and I became part of another team, one that fought the fight that needed fighting.  I never really knew that HYDRA was still around until I fought someone who was turned by them into something he didn't want to be but had no choice in.  I can't tell you more than that because telling you too much of the future can change it in ways that could be disastrous but I promised that I would come back in time, a one-way trip, and prevent HYDRA from ever getting their hands on him.  So far, I've only been partly successful but the danger is still there because HYDRA is still there and I have no doubt if they don't have him, they'll find someone else to take his place.  This mission together is the first, because we learned the Nazis went on with another super soldier experiment, one that Private Bradley tried to take care of by himself.  We're going to finish the job together, then the Commandos will focus on the larger HYDRA bases while the Patrol will go after the smaller ones and the hidden labs.  We're all going to find the people who have been forced to work for HYDRA and get them out of there.  Everyone else who works while wearing the Octopus insignia is expendable."

"Why was it need to know?" asked Falsworth.  "Were we not trusted to keep a secret?"

"Because I'm the man who HYDRA took," said Barnes, stepping forward.  "You don't have to protect my identity, Steven.  The more people that know, the less chance I'll end up back in HYDRA's clutches.  They started the process of turning me into a super soldier.  I know you've heard the rumours already that HYDRA let me go so that I could infiltrate this unit.  Grant has been trying to protect me from those rumours but he forgets I hear a lot better these days.  I'll never be the man I was before the war as I've already been changed.  You all know it.  Special Agent Grant gave up a life in the future to come back and keep me from becoming the Fist of HYDRA.  I trust him with my life as much as I trust Steve Rogers because they're the same guy, just changed by what they went through before meeting in General Phillips tent in Italy.  When you're ready to know more, he'll tell you.  If he doesn't, then it's better you don't know, as simple as that."

What was said was more than what Steven Grant ever wanted to reveal but he was finding it more and more difficult not to tell people the truth.  If they were going to work as a unit, trust was important.  He thought back to how Tony had advance knowledge about the Sokovia Accords, actively helping to create them without input from the other Avengers.  In his mind, Tony thought he was protecting what he saw as his family.  That began the split in the team, but it was his own knowledge about Bucky killing Howard and Maria Stark that almost destroyed the team for good.   Believing that by keeping that knowledge to himself, he was protecting both men, was his own moment of hubris.  Ultimately, it hurt them in the fight against Thanos as they rushed to regroup to face that threat.  Of that, Steven Grant was certain.  When he looked up again all eyes were on him, and he made a decision.

"I'm not going to volunteer any future information, not if I can help it," he stated.  "There are consequences to you learning about the future but if any of you ever feel like you're being kept in the dark I want you to tell me, directly to my face.  We're going to be going behind enemy lines, taking the fight directly to HYDRA.  Everyone has to trust the man beside him, as well as the man leading them.  I want every one of you to come out of this alive and intact in mind and body.  That is my pledge to you."

 It seemed his words had some effect as they resumed their spots at the shooting range, loading their weapons, and firing at the targets with purpose.  Both Howlett and Barnes nodded their approval, leaving him and Rogers to return to planning the joint mission.  With the goal of blowing that German base up in ten days both leaders knew there was still so much to do.

Chapter Text

Sergeant Howlett moved down the row of men sitting on either side of the aircraft. Checking their camouflaged painted faces with his battery-operated torch he looked for signs of anxiety about the night drop they were about to perform. As an experienced paratrooper he knew all it took was one man to change his mind about dropping into the dark abyss without hesitation. One man's refusal could be the difference between a successful mission and all of them ending up in a German PoW camp. At the end of the row the light hit Major Falsworth‘s face who grinned up at the sergeant. The man had as many jumps as he did and gave the impression he was just out for an evening stroll.

"How are they looking, Sergeant?" asked Falsworth, impressed at the attention to duty the Canadian paratrooper gave to the jump training of their combined force, a task they both took on given their extensive experience.

"Nervous, but it should go off like clockwork," said Howlett. "Just have to hope no one gets tangled in a tree. How many jumps is this for you, Major?"

"About 40 I think," said the British officer. "With our combined experience we prepared them as best we could, Sergeant. They're good soldiers."

"Yes sir, they are," replied the soldier, then he straightened up and returned to the front where Grant and Rogers were going over the maps of the drop zone to report on their readiness. "The men are ready for the drop."

Grant nodded then stepped towards the cockpit, checking their location with the pilots. Coming back, he gave the order to get ready. Rogers stepped between the two rows and took his place next to Falsworth. Howlett stood at the front, in the centre of the aisle, instructing everyone to check the rigging of the man in front of him, then to turn around and do it again. Falsworth and Rogers were leading the drop, out of the rear opening door beside the two men. The next two men would shove the supplies out before they jumped, followed by the rest of the men with Howlett and Grant bringing up the rear. They verified the rendezvous time and place, and waited for the green light to come on indicating they had reached the drop zone. As soon as it did the first two men dropped, and the rest followed with no hesitation. As Howlett and Grant dropped they turned their chutes towards the rendezvous point, landing cleanly in an open field. Removing their harnesses and gathering up their chutes they ran towards the spot where holes were already being dug to bury the large piles of silk cloth.

Falsworth ran up to them in the dark. "Everyone accounted for," he said. "One of the equipment chutes ended up in the trees. Barnes is cutting it free as we speak."

Together they ran towards where the others were and waited while the evidence of their landing was covered up before taking to the gravel road, stealthily keeping to the cover of the trees and bushes on either side. Ahead they could see the glow in the sky from the floodlights surrounding the camp, their target. Rogers and Grant looked at Jones and Raines.

"Make contact," they ordered.

Jones took the radio unit off his back while Raines picked up the microphone. Tuning it to the frequency of the German anti-Nazi resistance group he spoke the code words that identified their arrival, then waited for the code words that confirmed the identification of the resistance. Wearing the headphones, he listened patiently, then he nodded his head.

"Proceed to rendezvous point, Alpha 12," he stated in German then patted Jones on the back before looking at the two leaders. "They're delayed a few minutes. Had to wait for a convoy to cross on their approach. Told us to be on the lookout for it."

"Good," said Grant. "Morita, you and Rose take the point. I'll be right behind you with Rogers, Jones, and Raines. Everyone else stay loose but alert. This close to the camp they'll have canine units, knives only if you're confronted."

They continued along their path parallel to the road then saw lights coming their way. Taking cover themselves they saw the same convoy that must have delayed the resistance, except it was turning onto the road towards the camp. Rogers and Grant huddled together watching several troop trucks going past. The back tarps were open, showing armed guards closest to the tailgate. It was too dark to make out the passengers they were transporting but the lack of additional vehicles with armed guards brought up a question.

"What do you think?" asked Rogers after they passed. "More subjects for their experiments?"

"Bradley!" Grant called back, in a hushed voice. The big man came forward. "You're sure the prisoners of this camp were only for experiments or did they carry regular PoWs as well?"

"All experiments," confirmed the big man. "But when I was here as a prisoner they had more armed guards when they brought new people in. These arrivals could be new guards or their own soldiers for the experiments if they've progressed that far. We'll have to get the latest intelligence from the resistance before we know for sure."

Morita and Rose gave the word that the convoy was out of sight and the squad slipped across the roadway towards the rendezvous point, deep inside a wooded area at the top of a bluff. Raines and Bradley went forward, to confirm the resistance were who they said they were as the latter could identify them personally from when they rescued him before. As everyone else spread out the two men found the path marked with the sign of a German cross and followed it to where it crossed with another path.

"They're here," murmured Bradley. "I can hear them breathing." He pointed ahead of their position. "Most of them are there."

Raines nodded. "My Holstein cow had two calves," he said, in German.

"I would like to buy one," said a voice from the darkness, speaking English. Two men approached, dressed in civilian clothes. "You are the special forces units?"

"We are," replied Raines. "Is it safe to speak here?"

"As safe as anywhere," replied the man. "Give your people the signal while I do the same."

Bradley stopped Raines. "Wait a moment." He turned to the man, then looked past him. "Where is Hirsch?"

"Sergeant Bradley, you of all people know that Isaac Hirsch was captured during the rescue of you from the camp," said the man. "He was hung from a lamppost in the town square and no one was allowed to take his body down for fear of the whole town facing reprisal. His remains are in an unknown and unmarked grave. We're lucky the townsfolk didn't give us up."

"Just making sure, Goldstein," said Bradley. "I'm a Corporal now, long story. Go ahead, Raines."

The American returned moments later with the rest of the unit and Goldstein looked over the joint squad.

"That's a lot of men," he said. "I take it you intend to fully destroy this abomination of a camp?"

"That's the plan," replied Grant. "There were no additional guards with that convoy. Bradley said it could mean they're at the stage of beginning to transform their own soldiers. What's the latest intelligence on that?"

"Exactly that," Goldstein answered. "Our inside contact said the PoWs currently being held are no longer being experimented on and are likely to be used for the new super soldiers to train on. In other words, they plan to slaughter them, to bring the new soldier's blood lust up to a level that can't be stopped."

"Well, good luck controlling their soldiers if they get to that, which they won't as we're going to stop them," replied Grant. He uncovered his watch. "In about an hour there will be an air raid. We will have 15 minutes to infiltrate, rescue our people, lay the charges and get out before everything goes off."

The sounds of dismay from the resistance unit were audible and Goldstein had to hiss at them to keep quiet.

"Are you crazy? We don't have the time to do all that," he said.

"You're responsible for getting the prisoners out of the camp," replied Grant. "Use the trucks and any other vehicles there to transport them to the second rendezvous point. Leave the rest of it to us."

The man looked at Grant and the others as if they were delusional but Grant's face was completely serious.

"How are you going to take down guards, break into the camp, lay explosives, and get out in 15 minutes?"

"Well, six of us are incredibly strong," said Grant. "We have several very capable men on explosives duty, another who can pick a lock faster than anyone I've ever seen and the rest know their duties are to help where they can. Don't worry, we've trained for this and it will send a message, not just to the Germans but HYDRA that we're coming for them."

If they didn't have to be ready to act as soon as the air raid started Grant would have been happy to share more of what the two teams were capable of getting done in 15 minutes. It's what they had trained for 12 hours a day for two weeks straight. Everyone knew everyone else's job so that if anyone fell the next man would take over seamlessly. The four super soldiers, plus Howlett and Dugan, would take down anyone in a German uniform. Rumlow would pick the locks into the labs and serum storage, Dernier and Jones would lay the explosives, assisted by Rose, Raines and Falsworth who would also help keep them safe as they did their jobs. In simulated practice runs they got everything in place within 12 minutes, using British commandos to act as the Germans. The super soldiers had to pull their punches to avoid hurting the British commandos but those soldiers didn't know that and did their best to stop the enhanced humans and the former circus strongman who had proven he could handle several men at once. The resistance were to drive the rescued soldiers to a second rendezvous point where the Howling Commandos and Phantom Patrol would catch up with them. As the Resistance went back into hiding the two teams would escort the rescued prisoners through the Netherlands where the Dutch Resistance would provide them with several small boats that would meet in open water with a British submarine. By dawn after the following night they were expected to be on the submarine.

As they broke to get into position around the camp, Goldstein reminded Grant that their inside contact would identify herself with the V for Victory hand sign, along with her code name Marturo.

"Don't kill her," said the Resistance leader. "She's a good person."

Rose who heard the code name touched Grant's arm and leaned in close. "Marturo is Romani for witness," he said, in a low voice. "Perhaps she is one of the Polish Roma you seek."

After acknowledging that bit of information the two men continued towards their assigned positions. The boxes of explosives were opened and distributed amongst the non-enhanced soldiers, along with the timed charging fuses. As the far away sounds of hundreds of bombers approached everyone got ready to do their part. The air raid sirens went off and the lights of the camp began turning off, section by section. As soon as their section went dark everyone with wire cutters went in and cut the barbed wire of the outer fence, then the inner fence. From there they dispersed to their targets and the Resistance headed towards the prisoner blocks, ignoring the sounds of bombs dropping in the distance. Taking out the night guards first the super soldiers then went after the other guards in their quarters, making short work of them. Rumlow had already picked the lock of the medical wing where Bradley had said the experiments were undertaken. As they opened the doors with their guns on the ready none of them were prepared for what they saw.

"Get Grant, Rogers and Bradley," he said to Rose. "We need extra help."

While they waited for Rose to return with the others they laid the charges then broke into the next room identifying it as the serum lab. Several scientists came sleepily out of their quarters that were attached directly to that lab. Raines, in German, ordered them against the wall and held his gun on them. By their protests they weren't there willingly but he wasn't taking chances. Out in the main lab the three super soldiers had arrived and saw the reason they were called.

Four large capsules were laid horizontally with people visible inside of them in a state of cryosleep. Grant and Rogers looked at Bradley who just shook his head.

"They weren't at this stage when I was here," he said, peering down at the faces. "I recognize two of them, one American and one British PoW. I don't know the other two."

"Captain Rogers, Agent Grant, we have scientists in the other room," stated Falsworth, arriving just then. "They are claiming they are conscripts and not here willingly."

Rogers looked at his watch. "We have less than 6 minutes to get the remaining charges laid and get out of here," he said, looking at Grant. "What do you want to do? If these four are PoWs we can't leave them. But how do we wake them up?"

The two men left Bradley with the capsules while they went to the other lab, noting that the charges had been laid. There were four scientists, three men and a woman.

"What are your names?" Grant asked it out loud in English.

The three men shook their heads. The woman, tall with brown hair, stepped forward.

"My name is Dr. Eva Waslewski," she said, in English then she flashed the V for Victory sign. "My code name is Marturo. I was a research scientist in Poland studying how hypothermia can be used to slow down the body's reaction to traumatic injury, allowing doctors more time to treat the patient. My sister and I were conscripted by the Germans to come here but they took her away a month ago and I haven't seen her since. These other men are Nazis and not to be trusted. I was to teach them everything I know with my death likely to occur after."

Grant shone his torch on her, studying her face and confirming her appearance as one of the women in the files shown to him during the Blip. Approaching her he asked her a question.

"What is your grandmother's first name?"

"Kezia," replied the woman, puzzled.

"Can we disconnect the four men in the capsules out in the lab?" he asked, satisfied with the answer about her grandmother. "We already know two of them are PoWs."

"Yes, there is enough nitrogen inside the capsules to keep them in stasis for several days but they'll need medical treatment ready to act before we open the capsules up. They are all PoWs, the only ones to fully adapt to the serum. We were to begin injecting some chosen SS soldiers with serum starting tomorrow."

Grant smiled. "That's not happening. Come with me. We have to get these men out of here and we'll need you to look after them." He looked at Falsworth then at the remaining scientists. "They're not coming."

"Understood," replied the British officer who returned to the lab with Rose and closed the door.

The other soldiers continued on to the next target to lay the charges. As Dr. Waslewski went to the other lab with Grant and Rogers she gave out a cry of recognition when she saw Bradley.

"Sergeant! You made it!"

He turned and smiled back at her. "I did Ma'am," he replied, then he gestured. "We have to get these guys out of here."

She took charge, showing Bradley how to disconnect the capsules from their tanks and wheel them out through a larger door. While he helped her Grant went to get another truck to load the capsules into while Rogers went to find out if everyone else was done. Backing the truck up to the large doors Grant jumped out. He and Bradley physically lifted the two large capsules into the back of the troop truck, then wheeled the other two towards another truck that appeared driven by another sergeant, a man with a cigar in his mouth who brought another man with him. Waslewski noted those two men also had no problem lifting the capsules. They were joined shortly by Falsworth and Rose who kept a lookout. When the loading was finished Bradley took the wheel while the others jumped in back. The other man with the cigar took control of the second truck while several others jumped in back with those two capsules. Grant offered his hand to Dr. Waslewski.

"I should get dressed," she said turning to go back into the serum lab.

"No time," replied Falsworth suddenly. "You don't want to go in there, Doctor."

Grant offered his hand again. "You're under my protection. No one will hurt you."

The sounds of the siren signalling the end of the air raid jolted her into action and she climbed inside sitting next to him. He pounded the wall of the cab of the truck and they took off with a lurch. The Polish doctor was thrown into Grant's side prompting him to put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. As they pulled away from the building they heard the charges going off at the other end of the camp. The trucks sped up, hoping to get away from the remaining buildings before they blew up. As Bradley and the others drove through the now opened gates those in the back could see the lab go up in spectacular fashion. Pulling the canvas back at the front Grant stuck his head through the side of the truck and spoke to Bradley then he took his jacket off and offered it to Dr. Waslewski.

"We have a ways to go," he said. "We'll be picking up some more of our team shortly."

She nodded, putting the jacket on gratefully. "You have no idea of the horrors they were inflicting on the soldiers in that camp," she said, her voice dripping with anger. "These four men, in the capsules, are the only survivors of over two dozen that were injected with the German serum."

"Actually, I do," said Grant. "Our two units are going after all the HYDRA labs and camps. We did this one first because Corporal Bradley told us about it."

"You're a super soldier?" she asked but not receiving a direct answer. "We knew about Captain America and about Bradley, but not about you. It's why I contacted the Resistance so that Bradley could get home. There was a rumour that HYDRA had begun using a machine to render a soldier useless against the command to kill. They would have sent Sergeant Bradley there to turn him against his own countrymen."

"When we get back you'll be fully briefed," said Grant, then he gestured to the capsules. "We need you to make sure these men survive the cryogenic process."

When they stopped briefly to pick up the rest of the men he watched her in the almost darkness of the back of the truck, his increased night vision able to take in her features. Guessing her to be in her mid-30s he wondered how she had managed to become part of the Resistance. As if she could read his thoughts she began to speak.

"I'm half Roma," she said. "Along with the Jews, the Communists, and the homosexuals, the Nazis were forcing Roma into the concentration camps. With our fair colouring my sister and I could pass for Aryan. There was never any doubt that we would work for the Resistance. I began my work on cryostasis about 8 years ago when I was a new medical graduate, working with a German doctor who felt we could save lives by extending the time when critical care must be given. He was a veteran of the First World War and was often frustrated by how long a critically injured soldier had to wait for treatment, usually resulting in his death. Noticing that hypothermia victims could be successfully brought back to life if they were given the time to recover properly he began working placing victims into a controlled hypothermic state until they could be treated. He was taken by the Nazis in 1939 to work with HYDRA on a special project. He never came back so I carried on without him." She placed her hand on the nearest capsule. "These four men are not injured but they are proof that the concept has merit." She turned to him. "Why did you ask me my grandmother's name?"

"I can't tell you that right now," replied Grant. "When I can tell you, I will. Your sister, she is part of your research?"

"Yes, she is part of the aftercare process," said the woman doctor. "Thawing a person out too fast can result in brain and tissue damage, too slow can cause great pain to the patient. Done at the right pace the process should have little to no effect on the patient's faculties although memory may require some more time to catch up. Anya has a more pleasant aspect to her appearance, and her compassion is evident. She is easy for a man to wake up to."

"You're saying she's beautiful," noted Grant. "You're not bad yourself."

The doctor smiled, reinforcing Grant's words. "I'm dedicated to my work. Anya is younger and more likely to get married than me." She turned more towards him. "What is your name?"

"Grant, Special Agent Steven Grant," he said. "We'll be going to England where you'll be able to wake these men up in a proper medical environment."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you could find me some clothes to wear before then," she asked. "Slippers, a nightgown and a borrowed jacket are not enough to prevent me from getting hypothermia."

"We'll find a way to clothe you, Doctor."

He heard a cough and looked at Falsworth in the dark, who said nothing, but had a grin on his face. Rose and the others were also trying to keep a straight face. Ignoring them he looked out the flap in the side of truck to see if they were approaching their rendezvous. They pulled into a quarry, the last truck to arrive. Jumping out the back he told the doctor and Rose to stay with the capsules while he and the others got out. In the pre-dawn light faces were becoming visible and Waslewski looked at Rose, frowning slightly.

"You're Roma," she stated, then started speaking slowly in her dialect of the Romani language. "What is the Special Agent not telling me?"

"I can't tell you either," replied Rose, replying slowly in his dialect, "except that he and I are kintala and what he is doing is patjivalo. He is not Roma but he knows things about our people and is trying to stop them from being killed by the Nazis. He is a worthy man."

"You trust him?" Rose could feel her gaze measuring him.

"Yes, the gadžo officers court-martialled Bradley and locked him up in the dark. Grant sent me to find him and when he learned where Bradley was he used all of his authority to get him out of that prison."

"He knew that Bradley was enhanced?"

Rose hesitated, feeling he had already told her more than he should have. "Grant was surprised to hear Bradley already was special, but it was something he knew would happen eventually. I can't say how he knew but I'm sure he will tell you because he was also looking for you and your sister. They need you for something to come."

Before she could ask anything else Grant returned with an armful of clothing.

"These were liberated from a nearby farmhouse," he said. "You can have a few minutes to put them on but we have to go before the local army detachment figures out it was an escape from the camp. Rose, give the lady some privacy. We'll give you some space."

As promised the men who had gathered at the back of the truck moved away so that she could put the clothes on. Instead of taking her nightgown off Waslewski put the clothes on over top then tucked the garment into the trousers they provided her. Pulling on the socks made her cold feet feel better already although the boots she was given were too big. They would have to do. Once she was dressed she checked the settings on the cryogenic capsules to make sure nothing was jarred loose during transport. Going to the back of the truck she slid down and went over to the other.

"I want to check on these two," she said, to the soldier nearby, a younger dark-haired sergeant.

Instead of offering her a hand he picked her up by the waist and placed her in the back of the truck like she weighed nothing. Satisfied that everything was normal she reappeared at the back of the truck and again he lifted her down with ease.

"Cap and Special Agent Grant want to talk to you, Ma'am," said the young sergeant, whose blue eyes were more visible in the approaching dawn.

Smiling slightly at him she walked over to the two men, noticing they resembled each other, almost like brothers. Grant smiled at her as she approached.

"Dr. Waslewski, this is Captain Rogers, also known as Captain America," he said. "We are related, in case you noticed a resemblance."

"Captain," she said. "I just checked the capsules and everything seems to be okay. We can go on to the next part of the journey, if you wish."

"Well, that's where we have a problem," said Grant. "We weren't expecting to find anyone in capsules. With the size of the capsules and your warning that waking them requires time and patience I think they need to get back sooner." He noticed the look of alarm on her face. "We have every intention of bringing them back to England. It just won't be in the same manner as the others."

"What are you suggesting?" She looked at the two men.

"That we split up," said Rogers. "I take most of the men with me and stick to our original exit plan. Grant will take you, the capsules, Corporal Bradley, Sergeant Howlett, Sergeant Barnes and Private Raines. There is an airfield nearby. They steal an airplane and fly you to England."

"Do any of you know how to fly?"

"Sort of," admitted Grant. "It's the taking off and landing that I'm ... rusty in."

"I'm sure there is at least one pilot in the group you rescued from the camp," suggested Waslewski.

Grant nodded at Howlett who went over to where the escaped prisoners were assembled to find a pilot. When he returned with several men he gave Grant a questioning look before speaking.

"Why steal one aircraft when you can steal several and get back faster?" he grinned. "The resistance can send a coded message that we've changed our escape plans. The intelligence people would be happy to get their hands on a German aircraft. There are several commandos in the escaped prisoners that would like an opportunity to pay back the Nazis by taking on the guards at the airbase. There's only one problem. With the size of those capsules there's only one aircraft that can carry them; a Messerschmidt ME 323 Gigant. There should be one at the base and it should be big enough to carry everyone."

"What's the problem?" asked Grant.

"Takes five men to fly it, two pilots, two engineers, and a radio operator," said Howlett. "But it's vulnerable and although it has guns if we're caught by the Germans or even our fighter aircraft we don't have much chance of surviving."

Both Grant and Rogers ran their hands over their faces in frustration almost as if they were synchronized. It was eerie to see, and Waslewski wondered if there was more to the explanation that they were just related. Rogers looked at his counterpart.

"I could still go the overland route with a group of men and contact our people to let your flight in," he said. "But I think we need to get those men in the capsules back right away. Dr. Erskine would be very interested in them."

"You mean, Dr. Abraham Erskine?" asked Dr. Waslewski. "I thought he was dead."

Grant smiled. "Don't believe everything you hear. We have to make a decision before the sun rises. Listen up!" He climbed onto the hood of one of the trucks. "We're going to split up the group. Captain Rogers will take volunteers to go the overland route to the Netherlands where the local resistance will provide boats to rendezvous with a British submarine that will take you to England. It's going to take another day at least to get back. The rest of us will be going to the airfield, stealing their largest troop carrier so that we can load the four soldiers who are still in the cryostasis cylinders. We need two pilots, and two engineers to run the aircraft. We already have a radio operator and I've already chosen from our men who will come with me. I'm not going to lie; there's a good chance we'll get shot down but these four men in the cylinders have to get back to England soon for the best chance of their survival. You have one minute to decide. Those going with Captain Rogers head over towards him. Those of you coming with me, stay put."

For several seconds the rescued soldiers looked at each other then the pilots who had come forth with Howlett stepped closer to Grant. Several others with engineering or mechanical experience stayed as well while the others went over to Rogers. The quarry was long abandoned but the decision was made for those who were going to the airfield to hide around the perimeter using brush to hide the trucks from any fly overs. The others would go as far as they could into the Netherlands with their trucks before making contact with the Dutch Resistance. It was hoped that would draw the attention of any pursuing German troops away from the airfield. With the belief that they would have access to the aircraft's radio by nightfall Grant sent the unit's radio with Jones and Rogers. The firearms they took from the Germans at the camp were divided up between the two groups of escaped prisoners. With an informal salute Rogers acknowledged Grant and the two men divided their force hoping to see each other again soon.

Chapter Text

Steven Grant

After Rogers and his group left with some of the Resistance on their overland journey to Holland, Howlett, Bradley, and Raines went with a couple of the pilots and other Resistance members to assess the airfield and confirm there was a large enough aircraft to carry the capsules. Grant and the others did their best to stay hidden during the morning. Although some of the men slept most were too anxious about being discovered and instead stayed on watch. Dr. Waslewski chose to stay near the capsules, dividing her time between the two trucks while monitoring the settings. The young blue-eyed sergeant stayed with her, even offering her a cigarette when he helped her off one of the trucks.

"You're very strong," she noted, as she blew out some smoke.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, not volunteering anything else.

"You're not going to boast how you've become stronger while you were in the Army?" she teased. "I thought that was the way of the Americans."

A brief chuckle brightened his face up considerably, but he shook his head. "Sorry, I can't tell you anything. I'm sure they'll enlighten you when we get back to England. Special Agent Grant has his reasons for playing his cards close to his chest."

"Do you know him very well?"

Another enigmatic smile appeared before the sergeant took another drag of his cigarette, while assessing her.

"Quite well, although he's changed from the man I knew when I was younger. Damn, you'd be a good interrogator. Please, don't ask me anymore questions about him. I'm sure he'll fill you in when he's ready."

The young sergeant's reply was puzzling to her, and she looked over to where Grant was going over some maps with a couple of his men. One of the men lit a cigarette but dropped the lighter and Grant caught it before it reached the ground, without even looking at it. The speed and accuracy of his reaction was incredible, and she realized he had just confirmed what she asked him earlier about being a super soldier. There was no other explanation for his quick reaction, as well as for the strength shown by the other sergeant and the young sergeant with her. She turned back to him and saw an amused look in his eyes.

"You are one as well," she said then quickly shook her head when he looked exasperated. "You don't have to answer."

Before he could say anything else, they were interrupted by the arrival of the group that scouted the airfield. Everyone crowded around where Grant was receiving their report.

"There's a Gigant there, being unloaded," said Howlett. "Should take them most of the day. Goldstein here said they usually fuel up after the aircraft is unloaded and before they start loading new cargo. Two of his men are watching and will report when the fueling is done. That's when we should take them. It's probably a good opportunity to damage the airfield as well, make it impossible for their fighters to come after us. While the pilots are getting the aircraft ready you and Barnes can load the capsules while Bradley and I take the others and rig it all to go up after we take off. I'm sure Rumlow and the bomb expert with Goldstein can come up with something suitable."

"Alright, sounds like a plan," said Grant. "Any sign of anyone looking for us?"

"Not yet," answered Howlett, "but I expect that will change by nightfall."

"Try to rustle up some food, if you can," ordered Grant. "I'm feeling a little peckish."

"Yes sir, Corporal Bradley was saying the same thing."

Howlett grinned then placed his unlit cigar back in his mouth. Turning to Goldstein they assigned some men to find some food, warning them not to take too much to alert the authorities to a large group of escaped prisoners. Grant folded his map up and placed it inside his jacket then realized Dr. Waslewski was observing him, while Barnes stood near her. The sergeant lifted his eyebrows slightly as if to warn Grant that she was asking questions. Approaching the pair, he told Barnes to take a break then he leaned against the tailgate of the truck that was closest.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

"You are a super soldier, as is Sergeant Barnes, Sergeant Howlett, Captain Rogers, and Corporal Dugan," she said. "All of you have shown signs of great strength."

"Dugan isn't a super soldier," he replied, "just a former circus strongman, so stronger than most people. Captain Rogers is Captain America, the man behind the rescue at the HYDRA factory in Austria, but we decided not to make his identity on this mission known until we got back with the PoWs." He sighed then looked at her, debating how much more to tell her. "Sergeant Howlett isn't a super soldier from the serum. He's something else, something different but he has many of the same qualities. Sergeant Barnes is part way there. He was a PoW experimented on by Dr. Arnim Zola at that Austrian factory, but the process wasn't completed. I am a super soldier."

"By what process were you made one?" she asked.

"By Dr. Erskine's formula and the same process that Captain Rogers underwent."

"Recently? We thought they were only able to transform one man."

"That's true," he said, bluntly. "I was the one man in my timeline. Then I came to this timeline to prevent HYDRA from changing another man. I'm trusting you not to repeat this information."

She gazed at him steadily. "I won't but I have one question." He nodded. "Was I alive in your timeline?"

He didn't answer for the longest time as his blue-green eyes returned her gaze. "For a time. You and your sister are part of why I came back. I promised to find you."

For the briefest of moments, she saw something in his eyes; a sadness perhaps, and she understood that she was truly under his protection now. Gently, she pressed her hand on his then leaned back against the tailgate beside him, looking out over the gravel quarry. There was still much she wanted to ask but she understood that this man beside her was on a very personal quest that involved her and Anya, her sister, as well as someone else. This man was here to fight evil, an evil that had hurt him personally.

Surprisingly, his hint of being from another timeline didn't surprise her. As a scientist she kept abreast of many scientific accomplishments in many fields. The existence of other timelines had been publicly theorized as part of a thought experiment described by Erwin Schrödinger in conversation with Albert Einstein. It did explain one thing: Grant's resemblance to Steve Rogers. Perhaps he was that man's equivalent in another timeline, one where HYDRA also existed and had done great damage.

Throughout the day several of the men sent out on foraging expeditions came back with food, stolen from several different places in the hopes the authorities wouldn't link them. As nightfall approached, everyone managed to eat enough to feel at least partially satisfied. When the word was given to head to the airfield they piled on to the trucks, with the resistance members driving. As expected, from their vantage point, they could see the large aircraft being refuelled. The plan to take the airfield, which had been drawn up during the day, was repeated and everyone's part was confirmed. Dr. Waslewski would be in one truck with Grant and a couple of pilots, while Barnes drove the other truck with the engineers and Raines. Both men would drive straight to the aircraft with the capsules and begin loading them while everyone else not associated with manning the aircraft would take out the guards, aircrews, and anyone else in their way. Rumlow, the bomb expert from the Resistance, and their teams would use the fuel on the airfield, and the fuelling trucks to send everything up. If there were any hiccups Grant gave everyone permission to deal with it as best they could. They synchronized their watches, setting a time for everyone to be at the aircraft then waited for darkness.

On this night, luck was with them. Although word of the escape had made it to the various detachments in Germany it had been thought that such a large group would make their way to Switzerland by rail, taking over one of many trains that were running in the country at that time. The searches for the missing trucks were focused on rail yards south of where the secret camp was instead of areas west towards the airbase. By the time the large group had boarded the aircraft, and the pilots began taxiing towards the long runway, the first explosions started on the far end of the airfield. As the Gigant picked up speed and began to rise into the air the entire facility was burning, every aircraft on it destroyed, every hangar aflame, and all paved portions except for the long runway full of craters from little improvised bombs left behind as surprises.

As they manned the defensive weapons on the large aircraft, they flew a straight-line west over Holland to the North Sea. Raines sent a coded message using the Gigant's radio system, requesting not to be fired at as they brought a large contingent back, plus one of the largest aircraft ever built to that time. When he received the confirmation code that the skies would be cleared for them, Grant turned to the others.

"Well done," he announced. "By now the others should be boarding their fishing boats in Arnhem and headed down the Rhine towards the North Sea. With luck, they'll be boarding the submarine tomorrow morning and we'll be celebrating in the Whip and Fiddle tomorrow night."

Their part of the escape had gone so well, even though it had been thought up on the spur of the moment. There was no reason that the other, original plan wouldn't still work. It had been set up by the best tacticians at military headquarters, men with years of experience planning campaigns and missions. The thought that their original plan to get the Howling Commandos, the Phantom Patrol and a large number of PoWs back would fall prey to the suspicions of a meek company clerk who wondered where all the fishing boats suddenly came from never once occurred to them. Especially when that clerk made a leap in logic by connecting an escape of many men from a secret prisoner camp with a large number of fishing boats suddenly appearing in a town whose river led to the sea.

Steve Rogers

They were in trouble, definitely in trouble. Dum Dum, Morita, Dernier, Jones and Falsworth were beside him and he was just waiting for one of them to make a remark saying as much. Turning his head to look at them he saw five pairs of eyes on him, waiting for him to say something.

"It could be worse," said Jeroen, the Dutch Resistance fighter on the other side of Steve. "You could have been in the boats when they found them."

The burning fishing boats were ablaze when they arrived at the dock in Arnhem. Somehow, someone tipped off the Germans that the escaped prisoners from a secret PoW camp in western Germany were headed towards Arnhem to take fishing boats down the Rhine to the North Sea.

"What are our choices?" asked Rogers.

"All your choices have problems," replied the Dutchman, diplomatically. "If you go north towards Kampen you may have better luck getting boats, but Lake IJessel does have mines in it. Assuming you get through it then you have to go through the locks to the North Sea, not an easy thing to do considering the Germans control the locks for their ships to come and go. Or you could continue to drive towards Rotterdam. There are more boats there but also more Germans. There is a third choice which will also be dangerous."

"What's that?" Rogers looked expectantly at Jeroen.

"You raid the airport in Amsterdam, steal an aircraft and fly to England," he replied. "You are special forces, yes? Shouldn't be a problem for you."

"We don't have any pilots," replied Rogers. "Who's going to fly the aircraft?"

"You leave that to me," grinned Jeroen. "We always have some pilots in hiding until we can move them. Normally, we smuggle them through France to Spain then Gibraltar where the English still have control. I'm sure out of the pilots still waiting to escape there should be a couple willing to fly an airplane for you. We can send a coded message to England that a stolen German aircraft is coming with your team on it."

The young captain looked at the others, knowing they were expecting him to make the decision, being Captain America and all. This, on his first "official" mission, was an opportunity to build on the success of the raid on the Austrian HYDRA factory, the one where Bucky had been imprisoned. God, he wished he had his friend with him at that moment. Bucky would give it to him straight. The others would as well, but he knew he could trust his best friend implicitly.

"We'll need something big enough to carry everyone," he said to Jeroen. "A troop carrier."

"Something similar to a C-47," said Falsworth. "Except they only carry 30 paratroopers. We have 34 people."

"That's fully loaded paratroopers, with guns, bedrolls, ammunition, the works," countered Rogers.

"Doesn't matter," retorted Jeroen. "The standard German paratrooper aircraft is a Junkers Ju 52. It carries less than half that complement. We'll have to steal two aircraft, have two pilots for each, and even then, you'll be pushing the weight limits. You may be able to have parachutes for everyone." He expelled a large breath. "Even if we get a message to England that you're coming it is likely that you might get fired upon before you reach the coast. The Germans are always flying around the English Channel, playing games with the English defensive positions on the coast, and they won't be able to tell you apart from the others."

By the look on Falsworth‘S face, he thought it would be a difficult task but what choice did they have?

"Find us two of those aircraft," said Steve to Jeroen. "Parachutes as well. Maybe we can throw some paint on the fuselage before we take off that can identify us as allies. If not, everyone can bail out over the coastal areas and at least parachute to safety. If they get arrested it won't take long to get that cleared up."

"You're right," agreed Falsworth. "We have no choice. It's the only way to get back."

Heading back to the stolen trucks Jeroen directed them to as safe a place as any to wait while he tried to find them aircraft and pilots to fly them. A burnt-out factory outside Amsterdam with the Resistance watching for any unwanted attention became their hideout for the day and a half it took for the Dutch leader to come back to them.

"Only two pilots, I'm afraid," he announced to Rogers and the other Howling Commandos. "They will be here shortly at which point you'll have to go to the airfield immediately. But I did learn of another aircraft that usually takes 30 fully armed paratroopers plus flight crew and jump master, a Junkers Ju 90. Still working on finding you enough parachutes." He looked away for a moment with a pained look on his face. "We lost our radio person and the radio, so we were unable to advise England that your boat escape was compromised. Couldn't tell them about this new plan. You will be flying in blind as we haven't been able to reestablish contact."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to make the best of it," replied Rogers. He looked to the others. "Let the men know we're heading out as soon as the pilots arrive."

Over an hour later they had successfully infiltrated the airport, after cutting through the fence nearest the hangar where the aircraft they were going to steal was. They had encountered a few sentries, easily taking care of them and leaving them tied up in a place where they wouldn't be discovered for a time. The bigger aircraft was currently parked out on the grass of the airfield, presumably waiting to be loaded up with paratroopers. The two Allied pilots that had volunteered to come out of hiding looked at it through the binoculars that Jeroen provided to them before confirming they could likely fly it.

"Do you have someone who knows German?" asked one. "The controls will be in German and although their locations should be the same as in an American aircraft, I don't want to press the wrong button or toggle the wrong switch."

"Jones!" The young private came over to Rogers. "I'm assigning you to these two pilots. Get them into the cockpit and translate the controls for them."

"You got it, Cap," answered the young man. "Stick with me, guys."

While they watched Jeroen received a visible signal from one of his men and he turned to Rogers.

"My men are in position and ready," he said. "One of them will drive a truck with the extra parachutes over while you all make a run for the plane. Don't stop, just get on board. We'll handle the Germans." He grinned. "Your explosives man and mine have cooked up a little surprise for them that will keep them all occupied. It will keep them grounded for a while as well."

He didn't elaborate but didn't have to when a loud explosion at the other end of the airfield went off. A large fuel tank went up in flames, followed by another. The signal was given and the Commandos, along with the escaped prisoners ran like the devil towards the aircraft. A truck pulled up beside it and two men got out, opening the back. As the soldiers arrived, they were given a parachute and told to board. Jones and the two pilots got on first so they could begin the process of starting the aircraft. Dugan, Falsworth and Dernier removed the chocks keeping the airplane in place, then grabbed their parachutes and boarded, leaving only Rogers out on the field with the two men handing out the parachutes to the remaining PoWs. He stood expectantly waiting to be handed his then realized the two men had miscounted; there was no parachute for him. There was also no time to argue about it either as several vehicles with German soldiers on them burst onto the airfield. With a grimace, Rogers leapt into the back of the aircraft and pulled the door close.

"Go!" He yelled. "We're taking fire!"

The pilots pushed the throttle, taking the shortest route to the longest runway, dodging vehicles that came out to stop them. As they lifted into the air there was a cheer from the men and Rogers made his way to the cockpit. Within minutes they were out over the North Sea, headed southwest towards England.

"Any chance you can get a message out on their radio to tell them we're on our way?" he asked Jones.

"I'll try," he said, charging up the radio station behind the two pilots. After several tries, he turned back to Rogers, shaking his head. "The aerial must have been hit as there's nothing."

"That's not the only thing that was hit," said the one pilot, gesturing to a warning light. "We're losing oil pressure. We can go straight across to Suffolk, but they'll likely train their anti-aircraft defences against us."

"Do it and try not to give them a good target," said Rogers. "We'll get everyone bailed out over land then you give control of the aircraft to me. I'll take it back over the North Sea and ditch it."

They both looked at him, astounded. "You'll be killed."

"My mission, my orders," he replied. "We went to get a bunch of PoWs out and that's what we're doing. When you land, don't resist. My men know who to contact once they're on the ground."

As promised, as soon as they approached the east coast of England anti-aircraft defences began firing upon them. The moment they were above land the back door was opened and Falsworth guided them out the opening, reminding everyone to surrender. Then he and the remainder of the Commandos looked at their captain.

"You're sure about this?" Falsworth voice was barely audible over the sound of the rushing air and exploding flak that miraculously hadn't yet hit the aircraft.

"I should be able to survive if I jump before the plane hits the water," explained Rogers, yelling as loudly as he could. "I'm as sure of that as anything, I guess. You just make sure to call for the General when you get down there. One of you wait here for the pilots and make sure they jump."

Rogers headed to the cockpit, receiving a quick tutorial on how to ditch the aircraft then both pilots grabbed his hand, shaking it as they gave control over to him. Looking back, he saw the pilots stumble towards the opening them looked again, seeing Falsworth jump out last. Turning the aircraft back towards the North Sea, Rogers dodged the flak as best he could. Just as he was out over the water, the airplane took a hit. The super soldier realized he no longer had control of the aircraft and knew the time had come for him to jump. As the aircraft began to dive towards the water he leaped out as far away from it as he could, estimating he was still a couple of hundred feet above the water. Surprisingly, in those few seconds of free fall he felt no fear, only having enough reaction time to make himself as straight as possible as he entered the water. Slicing into the surface like a knife he went under and blacked out as the impact rocked him. There wasn't even time to think.

~~~~~~~

The murmuring he could hear grew louder and more distinct. Out of all the different voices there was one that he focused on and tried to say her name. Even though he failed to say it properly it must have done the trick because he felt her soft hands on his cheek.

"Steve? Darling, do you hear me?" He tried to nod his head, but it hurt so he opened his eyes and saw Peggy's face just above him. "There you are. We were worried about you. How do you feel?"

"Hurts like hell," he whispered. Then his mind became clearer. "Did they all make it?"

She smiled and he became aware of other faces behind her, General Phillips, Dr. Erskine, Bucky, and Steven Grant.

"Yes, Steve, they all made it," she answered.

"It's already on the newsreels and in the newspapers," said the General. "Captain America and the Howling Commandos rescue more than a hundred Allied PoWs from a secret German concentration camp in a daring rescue involving stolen German aircraft."

"Grant's people?" Rogers tried to make it a full question but that's all he could say.

"We got them all out but officially it was all your mission," said his own voice, coming from Steven Grant's face. "You've been out for a few days. You must have taken the stupid with you to try jumping from a diving aircraft 200 feet up."

"Grant, you would have done it," said Bucky, who was grinning at both men. "But he's right. What were you thinking, punk?"

"No time to think."

Rogers tried to get up, but everyone told him to stay down. "You are on bed rest for the rest of the week," said Dr. Erskine's voice as he came to the side of the bed. "You pushed the limits of your body on this one, Steven. Let it heal. Everyone, out." There were murmurs of protest and the doctor relented. "Alright, Agent Carter, you may stay. Everyone else, let the man rest. He can get his medals later."

It became considerably quieter, and Rogers had the chance to look around. He was in a private room, with a window to the outside. Peggy sat on a chair next to the bed and he thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful. Raising his hand, he felt something swell inside of his chest when she took his hand in hers and kissed it.

"You like me?" She nodded. "You love me?" She blushed but nodded again. "I love you, too. I'm glad your face was the one I woke up to."

There was more he would have asked but with her lips on his he thought it was better to let actions speak for now. Even though it hurt to do it he put his arm around her and held her close as they kissed. There was time for words later. There would be time for so much more. Of that he was certain.

Chapter Text

While Steve Rogers recuperated in the infirmary from his fall the others in both the Howling Commandos and the Phantom Patrol were given several days of leave. Some of the married ones spent it on base, taking the opportunity to sleep in and relax, perhaps stopping in at a local pub for a quiet drink. Others spent it in London, making the rounds of the various pubs, starting with the Whip and Fiddle, basking in people recognizing them from the news reels, and buying them drinks. Two of the soldiers, namely Bucky Barnes and Gabe Jones, were invited to attend a dance in the small town near where their units were based.

"Sergeant Barnes," greeted Barbara, a barmaid at the local pub, as she placed a glass of whiskey in front of him. "There's a dance tonight. Some of my girlfriends are going. Perhaps you and Private Jones could show us how you Yanks dance. You both look like you know what you're doing on the dance floor."

Jones looked at Barnes and shrugged. "You don't mind my kind being there?" he asked. Barbara looked blankly at him, as if she didn't know what he was talking about. "I could get into trouble asking a white girl to dance."

"Oh that." She laughed and leaned close to him. "It doesn't bother any of us and I'm sure the Sarge will have your back, won't you?"

"Damn right, I will," replied Bucky. "Come on, Gabe. If I can dance with your girlfriends in a club in Harlem, surely you can dance with Barbara and her friends here if they're okay with it." He smiled at the barmaid. "I've seen him dance and he's almost as good as I am. Are you sure you can keep up with us?"

"You two just show up and maybe bring a couple of your friends," she said. "I wouldn't mind getting that Dum Dum fellow on the dance floor."

"Naw, he's married," replied Bucky. "He's in London, anyways. We'll see who we can round up, but you better make sure there's enough girls for us."

After returning to base, Bucky sent Gabe to round up more guys to back them up, in case there was trouble. He went to see Steve, still confined to the infirmary but at least allowed out of his bed. He found Steve and Peggy sitting side by side at a table, having a coffee together.

"Well, well, well," said Bucky as he sauntered into the room. "You must be feeling better."

"Sergeant," smiled Peggy. "Join us."

"Don't mind if I do," he replied, smirking, as he poured himself a coffee from an urn on the counter. "Just came to see how Steve was doing. How is it going?"

"Pretty good," said Steve. "They figure I hit the water at about 100 miles an hour. Still don't know how I ended floating face up. I should have sunk like a stone."

"You were lucky," replied his friend. "That super soldier serum kept you alive long enough for a navy boat to find you and fish you out. Might not be so fortunate next time."

"Well, it just proves the healing capability of the serum," said Steve. "What have you been doing the last few days?"

"Drinking at the local pub although Gabe and I are going to a dance tonight. Too bad you're still confined to the infirmary. Peggy, you could come."

She looked back at Steve. "I think I'll stay and keep him company. We can put a radio on if we want to dance."

Steve blushed when Bucky pushed him slightly in the arm. Finishing his coffee, the sergeant stood up.

"Well, I'm going to hit the showers and get myself prettied up," he said, then he grinned. "Don't wait up for me."

As he left the infirmary he walked past the lab, nodding his head at the MP. He had only gone a few feet past it when he heard his name being called and turned back, to see Steven Grant partially out the door.

"Would you mind coming inside for a moment?"

"What's up?" asked Bucky, as he approached the open door.

"Just humour me," said Grant.

Following him in he was surprised to see Dr. Waslewski standing with Dr. Erskine and the four soldiers who had been in the cryogenic capsules at the German PoW camp. Erskine was reading from a folder in his hand and looked over his glasses at Bucky as he walked in.

"Ah, Sergeant Barnes," he stated. "I have your file here with the measurements we took of you since your initial treatment by Dr. Zola. There are also the statistics of the weights you lifted, starting from when you first arrived to just before you went on the mission that rescued these four soldiers. Your strength has improved since we started documenting it, yes?"

"Yeah, sure Doc," replied Bucky. "Lt. Hay thinks it might have to do with the better nutrition in the mess hall, since HYDRA didn't exactly feed us well."

"That's true, there is a correlation," he agreed. "But you were still considerably stronger after your initial treatment, is that right?"

"Yeah, I could lift heavier things," said the young sergeant. "On the mission I was able to lift the capsules into the truck and from the truck into the airplane."

Erskine looked triumphantly at Waslewski. "Whatever serum the Germans were using was not the same as HYDRA's," he stated. "It has given these gentlemen some benefits, such as improving their health, and their sensory sensitivity has also increased, but the extra strength just isn't there, at least nothing of note."

"I don't understand," said the woman doctor. "The other doctors insisted that the formula was created from Schmidt's blood, and he was changed by your original formula. Under examination the serum sample we brought seems to be the same. Their blood work shows the same features as Sergeant Barnes, as it should because it was from the same source. It is different from Lieutenant Bradley, which is also different from Captain Rogers and the other individual."

Bucky noted she didn't state that Grant was that individual. Perhaps the four former PoWs hadn't yet been cleared to know his history.

"It proves my initial assessment of the serum," insisted Erskine. "It adapts to the man. These four men ... were they ill? Did they have previous health conditions? Is there something in their genetic makeup that didn't permit the serum to change them completely? Sergeant Barnes admits he was near death, with severe malnutrition, serious physical injuries, and pneumonia. The serum cured him first then began to change him. Corporal Bradley said they were not treated well at their camp when he was given the serum, and he was the only one who survived. Captain Rogers was a small, sickly man and the serum cured him of his physical ills before changing him."

She looked at the four men and shook her head. "No, these men were all physically fit, considering the circumstances. Many of them were pilots and Göring was adamant that pilots be treated as officers and gentlemen in their imprisonment. They were fed as well as the staff, were not forced to work and were encouraged to keep their bodies and minds fit." She looked perturbed. "All of those men who didn't survive the treatments were sacrificed for nothing; and I was part of it."

"Doctor Waslewski, we knew you weren't there willingly," said one of the pilots, Grady, if Bucky recalled the name on the capsule correctly. "We know you tried your best to keep us all alive and as safe as you could. Even for the freezing part we knew that you tried to talk those other doctors into not using it. It's not your fault."

"Perhaps," she admitted, "but I still bear shame for my part. I hoped so much that once we got you here it would be evident that you could help the Special Agent and Captain America in their fight against HYDRA."

"We still can, right?" Grady looked at Grant. "We have some of the abilities and maybe if Dr. Erskine perfects his serum, we can take his to give us the rest. Just from this mission alone it's obvious you could use some pilots on your teams. You would be better prepared for SNAFUs when your options change."

"I'll bring it up with the General," said Grant. "I promise." He turned to Bucky. "I heard something about a dance in town. Perhaps you can help these guys find some uniforms to wear and take them with you. What do you think, Doc? Can these guys have a night away from all the poking and prodding, let their hair down?"

"Ja, absolutely," smiled Erskine. "Sergeant, if you could get them ... what is the term ... squared away? I think a night out dancing and relaxing is just the thing. They are well enough to stay in the barracks with the other men."

"Sure, come with me," said Bucky, leading the others out.

After showing them where the quartermaster was and vouching for them, he waited while they gathered their clothing and shaving kit, then brought them to the barracks, showing them some empty bunks. Gabe was already getting ready and although they eyed him briefly no one said anything about him being in the same barracks hut. Bucky filled them in immediately.

"He's part of the team who rescued you guys. Corporal Bradley is also black. Private Morita is Japanese American. We picked the best men for the job, and we back them up, all the time. If you have a problem with that you won't be on either team. I can guarantee that."

Their silence was interpreted to be acceptance and Bucky hit the showers, coming out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He shaved at the sink, noticing Grady studying his own face.

"Your beard grew in faster?" he asked. Grady nodded. "That's a serum thing. Your hair will need cutting more as well."

"Why is it we only got partial benefits of the serum?" asked the pilot.

"Dr. Erskine is of the opinion that every man reacts differently to it," answered Bucky as he slid the razor down his cheek. "Cap's reaction was probably the most extensive, but he did get a large dose of radiation to boost it. He grew almost a foot in height and added about 140 pounds in muscle. It also increased his reflexes, sense of smell, sight, and hearing. The only bad part about it is no super soldier can get drunk. Wish it were otherwise, but the increased metabolism apparently burns the alcohol out before it can affect you."

"You knew him before?" asked Grady.

"Since we were kids. He had asthma, stomach issues, caught every illness floating around except polio, which is a miracle in itself, but he had one important thing always going for him." He glanced at the pilot. "Faith and I'm not talking about religion. He believed in doing the right thing all the time, standing up for himself even against the odds. That's another reason why Erskine thought the serum worked perfectly for Steve ... Cap. It made the good inside of him better. Those German soldiers they were going to give the serum to ... if they were already typical Nazis, it would make them worse, bring out the evil in them. Although, if they were just ordinary conscripts with a conscience, it might be a different matter."

Bucky took the last few swipes with his razor, then felt with his fingertips for any spots that he missed. Satisfied, he rinsed the remaining shave cream off of his face, dried it, and applied some aftershave to his face, patting his cheeks after. With a grin, he leaned closer to Grady.

"There is another benefit to the serum that the good doctor likely hasn't told you about." He kept his voice low, looking to see if anyone was nearby. "You'll get it up faster, keep it up longer, and be ready to go again quicker. For a little while I thought I lost it after I got turned down by a certain lady. She was already engaged and didn't want to mess with that. But since then, let's just say I've never felt better, if you know what I mean. I had no issues before the war; with the serum I make that guy look like a schoolboy."

He patted Grady on the back and picked up his shaving kit and clothes. Sorting out his soiled clothes he put them in a laundry bag with his ID on it and reminded himself to drop it off at the laundry before he went to the dance. Opening his footlocker he found clean underwear, slipping them on. From his upright locker, he pulled out a dress shirt, doing up the buttons, then put some clean socks on, followed by his trousers. Tucking the shirt in, he tightened the belt, then slipped his dress shoes on. His watch came next then he took his tie with him to the bathroom mirror and put it on, making sure it looked crisp against his clean dress shirt. Returning to his locker he put his dress jacket on next, making sure he had all of his insignias and badges on, and the belt adjusted properly. Most of them didn't matter much to him except for his sniper's badge, sergeant's insignia, and the newest, a Howling Commandos patch, but the ladies sure liked them.

"Hey, I'm headed to the laundry, if any of you have some to drop off," he announced.

Gabe tossed him his bag, and two more were thrown at his feet. Picking them up he took them over to the laundry building. Stepping inside he saw that Mrs. Watkins was taking in the bags of dirty laundry. The older lady smiled at him.

"Sergeant Barnes," she said. "We missed you the other day. You promised you would get us some tinned fruit."

"I did and I'm sorry I didn't come through," he said, putting the four bags on the counter. "I'll tell you what. I'll go over to the commissary right now and pick up a couple of large tins, just for you, sweetheart."

"Stop it, I'm a married woman and old enough to be your ...."

"Older sister," he interrupted. "I still don't believe that you have a son in the British Army. Not with those dimples."

The older woman blushed. "You do know how to make a woman feel young," she replied. "Go on then. Get those tins and I'll write up these laundry tickets."

"You're a doll, Mrs. Watkins," he grinned. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Heading over to the commissary he looked to see which of the ATS cooks were on duty. The Auxiliary Territorial Service was the women's branch of the British Army. Most of its members were cooks, clerks and storekeepers although Bucky heard that some were being trained to join the anti-aircraft batteries as part of some mixed crews, and in the searchlight crews that lit up incoming enemy aircraft during air raids. He was pleased to see that one of his regular girlfriends, Vera, was on duty. Picking up a paper napkin from the dispenser he tore a strip off of it, rolled it up into a little ball and aimed it at the blonde. When it hit her, she frowned then looked around at who would do such a thing. Once she saw him, she grinned and jerked her head around to the back.

"I'm taking a smoke break!"

Her sergeant acknowledged it and Vera slipped through the back of the structure, coming out to find Bucky waiting for her with a package of cigarettes.

"Oh, love," she cooed. "Are those for me?"

"Absolutely, doll," he replied. "Just got back the other day from ... well I can't tell you where I was because it's classified."

He put two cigarettes in between his lips and lit them, handing her one, then tucking the almost full package into a pocket in her apron. She took a long drag and closed her eyes as she inhaled the smoke then let it languidly out. A tendril of hair had worked its way out of her hair net and Bucky gently tucked it back in.

"I missed you baby," he murmured. "Thought about you."

"No, you didn't," she replied. "I know you have other girlfriends, and I really don't mind. You made it very clear that what we have is just a bit of fun. I'm not complaining. What do you want?"

"See, this is what I like about you, Vera," smiled Bucky. "You know a guy like me has all sorts of obligations. I kind of promised someone a couple of large tins of fruit. She did a favour for me." Vera raised her eyebrows at him. "Not that kind of favour. She reminds me of my mother, treats me like her son who's in the British Army. Now those cigarettes are for you, and I just might be able to find some black-market nylons, if you can help me with this obligation."

"I don't know, Bucky," said the dark-eyed blonde. "They're cracking down on pilfering. I heard one of the storekeepers got canned for taking a tin of meat for her mam. I need this job. My sister just found out she's expecting, and it won't be long before she's let go from the factory."

"How about if I distract your sergeant and you just liberate a couple of the tins, put them outside the door here? Then you go back to your station, I take several more minutes to make sure you're in the clear, then come back and grab the tins. Better yet, if you do get into trouble, I'll vouch for you. Being a Howling Commando has its advantages."

"You'll lose your rank," she stated. "I don't want that."

"Never wanted to be a sergeant," he answered. "Hate the responsibility. Come on, Vera. Help a soldier out. Next time we're on a date I'll do that thing you like." He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, making her giggle. "You know you like that."

"Alright, go on with you," she said. "You distract the old biddy and I'll get your tins, just two. Any more is pushing it."

Grasping her face in his hands Bucky kissed her deeply then pulled away. "That's a down payment on our date," he smiled. "I owe you, doll."

She pushed him away, shaking her head at his audacity. Returning to the front of the service area he saw the sergeant haranguing one of the other cooks. Stubbing his cigarette out he walked close to where the grey-haired woman was and waited politely. When she finished criticizing the cook, he cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Sergeant?" he asked politely.

She turned to look at him, frowning at first. "What is it, Sergeant?" she asked. "I'm a little busy here."

"Yes, Ma'am, I can see that," he said. "I need your help and Major Falsworth, one of my fellow Howling Commandos, said it was something that you would be able to assist me with."

"The Major said that?" Her face brightened. Bucky was glad he had interpreted her longing glances at the British Major correctly. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, Ma'am." He hesitated. "No, perhaps I shouldn't ask, as the ingredients would be too difficult to acquire."

"Why don't you let me determine that," she replied, firmly.

"Well, the General apparently had a British mother and he said she made a Bakewell something with a cherry on it. What was it again?"

He put on his best thinking face. "Cherry Bakewell?" She looked at him inquisitively.

"Yes, that's it!" he smiled. "Would you be able to make him a cherry Bakewell? I think's it close to the date where his mother passed away, God rest her soul, and I thought seeing something that he had such fond memories of would help him feel better."

"That's a lovely sentiment, Sergeant but that recipe requires flour, ground almonds, egg, butter, sugar ... I just couldn't justify the cost of it, not even for the General. I'm not even sure I could find some of the ingredients, not when there's a war on."

He noticed Vera coming back to her station, giving him a big smile. Putting a look of disappointment on his face he nodded sagely at the older woman.

"Well, thank you anyways," he said. "By the way Major Falsworth described one, it sounds like quite the treat. Perhaps someday, when the ingredients are more available we could see about it. I appreciate your honesty."

She nodded at him and he tipped his cap to her then winked at Vera on his way outside. Slipping to the back he found the two large tins, and scooped them up, quickly heading back to the laundry. When Mrs. Watkins saw him approaching, she gave him a big smile.

"There you go," he said, handing her the two tins. "Mind you don't flash them about. I wouldn't want any of my other girlfriends around here to think I have a favourite."

"Go on with you, you're such a flirt," blushed Mrs. Watkins. "I know the drill. Here's your tickets, love. They'll be ready the day after tomorrow."

"You're a real cracker," grinned Bucky, tipping his cap and picking up the laundry tickets.

On the way back he stopped at the command tent to see if any mail had arrived and grabbed a stack of letters. By the time he got back to the barracks nearly everyone who was going to dance was ready. He handed out the other laundry tickets to those who gave him their bags then distributed the mail. With that task done and before they left, he made sure everyone going had everything they needed, including condoms, money, and cigarettes. With complaints they were going to miss the bus the assorted men walked to the gates of the base and waited for the local bus that headed into the nearby town.

When it arrived, they clambered on. As ladies got on, they offered their seats to them, chatting to them when they learned the ladies were also headed to the dance. Some of the older folk rolled their eyes at the confidence of the American soldiers and as they got off near the dance hall Bucky heard one older gentleman mutter.

"Look at them Yanks; overpaid, oversexed, and over here."

He grinned at the oversexed part, knowing it was true for him, at least. Not that he would ever force a woman, but he would sure spend time convincing a willing girl that he was worth having fun with. The chase was part of the fun, and he didn't always care if the girl put out or not. If she did, he would make sure she enjoyed the encounter. If she didn't, he wouldn't worry about it. A line was already at the dance hall as he joined it and pulled out his cigarettes to light one up. A woman's hand took it from his and put it between her lips. Turning to look he smiled.

"Barbara, you made it," he said, lighting the cigarette up for her then lighting one up for him. He looked past her. "Bring a date? Did you bring friends?" He gestured to the other soldiers around him. "I brought mine."

She looked at all of the men, some of them eyeing her back. "Well done, Sarge," she answered, as she blew out some smoke. "I brought friends. I want the first dance with you."

"Absolutely, doll," he smiled. "Is your flatmate home?" She shook her head and smiled, taking another drag of her cigarette. "I guess that means we'll have the last dance together, yeah?"

She didn't answer but did link her arm with his and they stepped forward as the line grew shorter. When they finally got inside the hall Bucky went to the bar and got himself a scotch and Barbara a gin and tonic. They sipped it as Gabe and several other soldiers from the base joined them. A friend of Barbara's also came over, giving Gabe a good look.

"Looks like the band is about to start," said Bucky, as they put their drinks on a railing beside the wall. "Come on Babs, I'll show you how a boy from Brooklyn dances."

As G.I. Jive began Bucky got into the swing of things, then noticed Gabe beside him with Barbara's friend. The two men grinned at each other as they each showed their moves to their dance partners. For the next several dances the two men danced with the same girls then Gabe finally indicated he needed a break and saluted Bucky, before pulling Celeste, his dance partner, off the dance floor. They both had some of their drinks as Bucky stayed out for one more dance before he and Barbara finally took a break, returning to their drinks.

"Well, doll?" asked Bucky. "How was that?"

"Not bad," she replied, coolly. Bucky almost did a spit take which she laughed at. "Alright, Bucky, it was pretty good. You're very light on your feet and know what you're doing."

A slow song came up and she put her drink down, putting her hand out to Bucky. With a grin he spun her out to the dance floor then pulled her close, as The Man I Love played. Bending his head down to hers he breathed in her hair, appreciating that she had washed it for tonight. With all of the rationing going on he knew that shampoo was almost non-existent, meaning she used some of her meagre ration of bar soap to do the job. He wondered if he could find some black-market shampoo for her.

"Your hair smells great," he murmured. "You look good, too. Should have said it when you found me in the line."

"You're saying it now," replied Barbara, then she looked up at him. "I'm glad you made it. You're always fun, Bucky."

He smiled and kissed her lightly on the shell of her ear. Even though several other girls gave him the eye he decided to stick with Barbara for the evening. She was a good egg and like Vera, knew he wasn't looking for love, just a bit of fun. Looking at the other dancers he was happy to see that all of the men that came from their base had dance partners. When the band took a break, he and several others lined up at the kitchen window, ordering fish and chips as well as bags of crisps to munch on. There was a lot of laughter during the short break as people hurried to eat before the dancing started up again. As they headed out onto the dance floor several women from the kitchen came out with trays, clearing the debris left from the food, as well as picking up empty glasses. After several hours the last call for drinks was made and couples began leaving. Bucky noticed Gabe leaving with Celeste then turned to Barbara and put his arm around her.

"What do you say, should we head out?" he asked.

"Alright," she replied. "You'll walk me home?"

He nodded, drained the rest of his drink and stopped to pick up his cap at the hat check. They headed out into the night and Barbara reached into her handbag for her flashlight, dimmed down so that it was just bright enough to light their path. Ten minutes later Barbara slowed up in front of a row house. Bucky ran his hands down her arms, then around her waist and kissed her, pulling her close to his body. She kissed him back then kept her face close to his.

"Are you coming up?" she asked.

"If you want," he replied. "Am I staying?"

He could see her smile in the dark. "If you want."

Slowly she pulled herself away and took her key out, then opened the door to the building. Following her inside, they quietly made their way up the stairs to the third floor and she unlocked her door. Before she could turn on a light Bucky pulled her into his arms and kissed her, hard. She whimpered slightly, then pulled him to her bedroom, closing the door behind her, knowing that the best part of inviting Sergeant Bucky Barnes into your bed was that he would make a girl feel like she was the most important thing in the world for the next few hours. After he left, it was certain that he wouldn't blab about it to anyone. He would keep a ladies' reputation intact and if she ever found a fellow that wanted to marry her, would be the first one to offer congratulations, saying the fellow was a lucky man. More importantly, he would mean it. One thing that all of the women in his life hoped for Sergeant Barnes was that someday he would find the right woman who would make him a lucky man. Certainly, she would be a lucky woman.

Chapter Text

In early December, while most of the world prepared for Christmas, the Howling Commandos and the Phantom Patrol both started preparing in earnest for their first separate missions. For the Commandos the target was one of the HYDRA bases that Steve Rogers saw on the map in Arnim Zola's lab. Located west of the Maginot Line, the base was to be raided by the Commandos, a unit of soldiers and the French Resistance in a combined effort to rescue those who had been enslaved to work there and to make sure its destruction would be so thorough that nothing could be rebuilt. Steve and Bucky would also search for any intelligence on other HYDRA bases or labs prior to the base's destruction.

A new development in the missions was the use of the transformed pilots that had been rescued in Germany to fly a dedicated aircraft just for the two special squads and their associated teams. The General had liked the idea of having them available to pilot an aircraft once Steven Grant had passed on Grady's request to be involved. Grady and O'Neill were assigned to the Commandos, while Murphy and Costello were assigned to the Phantoms. Although they would stay with the aircraft they still received the same physical and tactical training as the others. Both Dr. Erskine and Dr. Waslewski were interested to see what regular training would do for the abilities of the four pilots. While they weren't as strong as Grant, Rogers, Barnes and Bradley, they were showing signs of being stronger than the average soldier.

The first mission for the Commandos was a rousing success. After landing at the airstrip, the Commandos and the accompanying army unit rendezvoused with the Resistance who had been observing the base. With the schedule of the guard changes known they took out the HYDRA soldiers who were patrolling the perimeter. Without anyone to hold them back or give up the alarm the combined group infiltrated the site with the Resistance entering the prisoner quarters to free the captive workers there, many of them locals forced into service. The army unit entered the smaller work floors engaging the single guards there and sending the workers from those areas out to the muster point where their already freed compatriots were. The Commandos entered the largest work floor, guarded by the largest contingent of HYDRA soldiers. With their guns blazing they took out the enemy as the workers there took cover.

While Bucky and Steve went on to the office area, easily dealing with any remaining enemy along the way, the others, under Dernier's direction, laid charges everywhere. When the two super soldiers found what they were looking for in the office, namely the locations of more HYDRA sites throughout Europe, Bucky stepped outside and fired a flare signalling that the charges could be set off. Together, he and Steve ran through the destruction before meeting their combined forces and the rescued workers at the muster point, safely away from the effects of the blasts. Satisfied that the base was completely destroyed the Resistance took the workers, first to rejoin their families, then to relocate them so they were safe from retaliation. The army unit and the Commandos returned to the waiting aircraft and were already over the English Channel before Johann Schmidt and Arnim Zola arrived at the charred remains of their base. By the time the evening editions of the English newspapers hit the London newsstands the exploits of the Howling Commandos were splashed across the front pages everywhere, detailing the exploits of the special team, led by Captain America.

The Phantom Patrol, while planning their first mission, weren't supposed to be quite so flashy or prominent in how they attacked their target. Based on intelligence given to them by Dr. Waslewski, who had done some undercover snooping herself before her rescue, they originally focused on what was a special camp just for the Romani people, called Zigeunerlager. Located just inside the Austrian border from Germany it was part of a larger complex, a concentration camp known as Auschwitz.

"The doctor in charge there, Josef Mengele, is a sadist," she practically spat out. "They use the Romani and Jewish prisoners as slave labour, but he also experiments on them, mostly on finding out how much pain they can tolerate without the necessity of anaesthetic or sedatives. It is part of the super soldier research, pushing the limits of the human body so they can expend minimal treatment on their soldiers while keeping them at maximum killing capacity."

"Damn," said Grant, knowing exactly the scope of Mengele's crimes. He looked at the others on the team. "You might as well know that Hitler always planned to wipe out the Jewish population, as well as the Romani, and anyone else he considered subhuman. Auschwitz was one of the worst, holding thousands of prisoners, many of them killed within hours of their arrival. Others were worked to death or experimented on."

He sighed, running his hands through his hair, contemplating what she might ask next. The doctor looked at him, understanding that he already knew the fate of thousands from his future knowledge.

"You have to destroy the camp," she said.

"But how?" he asked. "How do we get the prisoners out of there to do it? Many of them of them are too sick, or weak from starvation, and unable to fight. They're in the middle of German held territory in an area full of rabid Nazis. Thousands are transported there on trains that continually go to the camps every day. If we destroy the camp, we have no means to help them because there are too many of them."

"Can't we just load them back up on the trains and get them away?" Howlett answered his own question, rubbing his own forehead, then shaking his head in frustration. "There's no place where they can go, right? Any that were on the trains could be fired upon or bombed by German aircraft or artillery or easily recaptured."

"What if we give them the means to fight?" asked Rose. "A Romani will fight if they have the weapons. I'm sure there are many Jews there who would be able to fight as well. We bring them food and weapons. Take out the guards, take over the camp and destroy just what we have to. It's not perfect but we don't have the means to rescue them. So, we give them the means to at least fight."

"We can but they may be too weak to do even that," said Grant. "We could maybe bring some children back with us if we use the Gigant. It's big enough to carry enough supplies there and to hold many children for the flight back."

"It'll be dangerous," said one of the pilots, Murphy. "We could easily be shot down by the Germans if they contact us by radio."

"Not if it's manned by Germans," countered the agent, trying to come up with possibilities. "There are several German Jews in the British Air Force. If they man the aircraft they could pose as a regular crew delivering supplies. Land at the nearest airbase, transport the supplies to the camp, infiltrate and secure it. Destroy Mengele's lab and research, as well as the extermination facilities, then load the kids up and bring them back to the aircraft at night. Fly out under cover of darkness while the camp prisoners that are able to break out escape. If we get word to all the resistance groups out there, they can watch for any escapee that comes in contact with them. Eventually, they could maybe make it back to England and reunite with their kids."

"Let me go with you," said Dr. Waslewski. "I speak English, German, Polish and Romani. Those kids will be terrified and if their parents can't come with them, it will be difficult for them to comprehend that we're rescuing them. I can also act as a medic for your team."

"Extermination facilities?" asked Raines, who had heard Grant say it.

Grant sighed. "They had the killing down to a factory-like process. Someone decided right at their arrival who lived and who died, then they ... I'm sorry, it's too horrific. If we destroy them, it will stop them for a while, at least. Howlett, you and Bradley will have a team to go after the guards. Take no prisoners. The guards there were the worst of the worst and don't deserve to live. Raines, and Rose, your team will explain to the prisoners what has to be done. Tell them we can take children, but we don't have the room for the adults. We may have to use the trains to get them to the aircraft but if they won't get on them then prepare to steal some trucks. We won't have unlimited time to convince them, either. Rumlow, you're with me." He looked at everyone. "I won't sugar coat it. What you will see there will be more brutal than anything you've seen yet. With the numbers of people imprisoned there we won't be able to help the majority of them."

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a Special Agent Grant," said another voice and they all looked to the doorway to see a dark-haired man. "I'm Lt. Sousa, 28th Infantry Regiment. I was told to report here for temporary reassignment."

Grant stood up then looked at the others. "Assemble your teams," he said. "I'll find the right air crew." He looked at Dr. Waslewski. "I'll talk to the General about you coming along but Doctor... Eva, it will be dangerous."

She smiled at him using her name. "It's alright Steven," she replied. "Perhaps, some training in firearms will keep me a little safer. Doing this is the right thing. You, more than all of us, know this for a fact."

She smiled again and for a moment, Grant felt something inside that he hadn't felt for a long time. As he switched his attention to the young officer in front of him, she left. Sousa stood at the ready, still not quite sure what he was getting into. Grant studied the man briefly, only knowing about him from the SHIELD files he brought back in time. He wasn't planning to change the man's timeline, but he did intend to give the man a head's up and wanted to use his skills, even for the short time he was going to be assigned to the Phantoms.

"I'm Steven Grant," he said, offering his hand to the other man. "I've heard good things about you as a reconnaissance scout. You're careful, thorough, but willing to jump in with both feet. We're planning a very dangerous mission into the heart of German held territory to destroy a lab that provides research to HYDRA. You've heard of HYDRA?"

"Just what I read in Stars & Stripes," said the 25-year-old lieutenant. "Deep science division of the Nazis, not above experimenting on humans. They have also developed some pretty incredible weapons. That's all I know."

"Before this meeting I was unaware of the exact location of this lab but Dr. Waslewski, one of our research scientists that we rescued from a German run camp that was also performing human experimentation, informed me and it's changed the scope of the mission slightly. Are you aware that the Germans have many concentration camps filled with people they consider undeserving of life, including Jews, Romani, political prisoners, homosexuals, and the disabled. They use them for slave labour, or medical experimentation until they die or kill them outright." Sousa's face was full of alarm. "It is horrifying but the numbers of prisoners are so high and the camps so deep in German held territory that there's little we can do. That's what this meeting was about ... to gauge how much we could actually do to satisfy our own guilt at how little we can actually offer."

"I don't understand," said Sousa. "What are you actually doing?"

Grant sighed and then gave the man a small sad smile. "We're going to fly a captured German aircraft into the airfield closest to a camp called Auschwitz. We're going to take food and weapons with us. After killing all the guards at the camp we're going to arm the prisoners. We'll destroy the lab that houses the medical experiments, and the research that is filed there. There are other things that will be destroyed in the process, gas chambers and crematoria primarily, and then we'll offer to take their surviving children back to England with us while leaving the adults to fight. They'll have an opportunity to escape, and the different Resistance groups will be on the lookout for them. Hopefully, enough will eventually make it to England to be reunited with their children."

"That's seems barely enough," replied Sousa.

"I know," grimaced Grant. "But there are thousands of people in that camp, and we'll have just one large aircraft, probably not even large enough for the number of children we're going to try to bring back. It's the best that we can do and right now it's much more than they have. Are you in?"

"Why me?" asked Sousa. "I heard you asked for me by name. What's so special about me?"

Again, Grant was faced with the dilemma of revealing too much, tempting a response from time itself to stop him from being successful. Or you are successful in this timeline because you shared what you knew. Rubbing his face with his hands in what was starting to become a habit he looked at the young man and began speaking, remembering everything in the man's file that had been put on that flash drive.

"Daniel Sousa, born 1918, Twin Falls, Idaho. You have a Bachelor of Arts degree and serve as a lieutenant in the 28th Infantry Regiment as a reconnaissance scout. After the war, you joined the SSR and rose through the ranks when it transitioned into SHIELD to become West Coast Security Chief. Even with your physical limitations you were an expert marksman and could handle yourself in hand-to-hand combat. You were also known as a virtuous man, never once shooting someone who was unarmed, or imposing yourself on the woman you loved because she was still in love with someone else. What you are best known for were your investigative skills, as you were one of the first SHIELD agents to realize they had been infiltrated by HYDRA. That knowledge resulted in your premature death on July 22, 1955."

The younger man's mouth opened then closed, unable to speak for a second. "How do you know this? You're talking of things that haven't happened yet."

"They haven't," replied Grant. "Let's just say I'm not exactly going by my birth name. I was born the same year as you, became a super soldier in 1943, and through a series of events ended up frozen in ice for about 65 years, waking up in a world that was completely different than the one I left. When I supposedly died in 1945, I thought I had destroyed HYDRA, but I hadn't. They slowly regained every foothold they had in World War II but did it under the banner of protecting the world through the SSR, then it's successor, SHIELD. They came that close to taking over the world in the next century but the man who I worked for in the future figured them out, almost dying himself, but we were able to stop them. I spent another 9 years in that future, battling all sorts of threats to humanity before we finally made the world safe again. Time travel became a possibility, and I came back to stop something from happening to someone important to me, as well as other things, like HYDRA growing again. I brought files back with me, of people I could trust, and your file was one of them. Technically, I'm not supposed to interfere with your timeline, but I've discovered something since I got here in June. Apparently, I've tried this many times before and failed each time, because I followed the rules of not interfering. Well, I'm done playing by the rules. This time is supposed to be different. If the only way to keep what happened from not happening is breaking the rules, then I'm breaking every rule there is. HYDRA must be stopped, and the right people have to survive to do it. You're one of them. Before the end of next year, you won't be with my team anymore. You'll be back with the 28th. Before you go, I will give you your file and you'll be in charge of your own destiny. Perhaps you can change things, perhaps not, but either way you will make a difference, believe that. At some point, I expect we will meet again, and we can either share a drink and some stories, or you'll punch me for putting you into more danger. I'm good either way."

Sousa smirked, then breathed out noticeably. "I'm in," he said simply. "Tell me what to do."

A smile creased Grant's face. "I need you to find us a German speaking aircrew to fly a Messerschmidt Gigant, two pilots, three air crew, one of them a radio operator, although I have a couple of guys who can speak German do it if you come up short. I'm aware of several German Jews in the British Armed Forces who fit the bill. I figure they might be open to helping us on this mission. Oh, and Sousa? It's top secret, all under the radar. You find the people, but I'll actually approach them and get them reassigned. I'll introduce you to the rest of the team later. For now, get yourself a bunk in Hut 10C. We all share the same barracks and we're a multiracial team. Officially, I'm a Major but I go by the Special Agent title as I'm Army CIC."

"Who were you before?" asked Sousa, curious.

"I'll introduce you when he gets back from his mission," smiled Grant. "His girl is off-limits. No one interferes with their relationship."

It was a puzzling thing to say but Sousa wasn't going to argue about it. As he left Grant in the briefing room the older man took a deep breath. No portal opened with a black clad team appearing to take him into custody so time itself obviously was letting him break all of these temporal rules. By giving Sousa advance knowledge of what was to come perhaps he could save the man's life and prevent the HYDRA infiltration of SHIELD. Of course, there was one person who would have to be dealt with for much of that and he still wasn't sure he had it in him to do what really needed to be done. That was something he would deal with later.

Two days later the Howling Commandos had returned to England, their spirits high with the success of their first successful mission. Sousa, now set up in the barracks, watched the crew arrive, puzzled at the easy rapport between the different ranks, from the British Major to the American private, and the French Resistance fighter with no rank at all. They had obviously been through something together, even the newer members, the two pilots. Already filled in on the joint mission the two squads took part in he wasn't expected to be invited to the debriefing for this mission but when he was, he showed up, stunned to see a beautiful young British woman arrive with Captain America. Their connection was obvious, and he recalled Grant's words that she was off-limits. When he was introduced to the young American hero, he also saw the physical resemblance between him and Steven Grant, confirming quickly that they were the same man, separated by time and circumstance. It was obvious, as everything, their build, their voice, even their mannerisms but not their apparent age, was the same. Also at the debriefing was General Phillips, Dr. Abraham Erskine, Dr. Waslewski, Sergeant Barnes and Sergeant Howlett.

First up, Rogers presented the intelligence that he and Barnes found at the base. It listed numerous other bases that HYDRA was either operating or had connections to. It included the one in Auschwitz, the Phantom Patrol's target. As Grant went over the plan of attack there were mumblings from several people and a large scowl from the General himself.

"I don't like it," he said. "You're in the heart of a Nazi stronghold. There's little you can do to help those unfortunate souls kept prisoner in that camp and while the offer to take the children to safety is noble, I'm not sure that it's a good enough use of our resources."

Grant took a deep breath. "Sir, with all due respect, we have to do something. Dr. Mengele wasn't the only doctor at that camp, but he was deeply involved in all sorts of experiments inflicted on Jewish and Romani men, women, and children. From my own time spent learning of the history I missed while I was frozen, I learned that he deliberately sought out twins or people with deformities, or other unique physical characteristics. He performed all sorts of cruel experiments on them, like deliberately infecting them with incurable diseases to see if their so-called differences would save them, or injecting them with toxins, and other experiments that always involved pain. All of his work made its way into HYDRA's hands. Everything they tested on those people was also tested on their most successful candidate." He looked at Bucky sadly, not saying it out loud. "At the end of the war Mengele managed to escape custody, went into hiding and successfully evaded capture by the authorities until his death in the late 1970s. If we only come out with that one man, it will be worth it. If we manage to disrupt the normal routine of that one camp, it will be worth it. If we save 10 children from being experimented on it will be worth it. More importantly, if we're able to give those prisoners a chance at fighting their way out then maybe, just maybe, we can start a new line of resistance in Germany itself. They're not all bad people, sir. Many of them were truly not aware of what the Nazis were doing in the camp or were too afraid to say anything. After the war Germany made a big effort to never allow themselves to fall into that mindset again."

"I would like to go," said Bucky. Grant looked at him, nodding his thanks. Bucky studied the others. "I know that we're supposed to be fighting HYDRA, but they grew out of the Nazis, right? They spew the same racial superiority bullshit, and the belief that their way is the right way. Pardon my language, ladies. If both squads take on this target, it sends a message to the Nazis and to HYDRA that we're coming for them. I didn't know about these camps but if they're doing that to anyone, we should be fighting for those people as well." He looked down for a moment then grasped his dog tags over his shirt. "My dog tags say I'm Protestant, because my dad is. My ma is part Jewish. Some of those people might be family from way back. I'm going with the Phantoms."

The General had a grim look on his face. As he looked at the others he could see them nod in agreement with Barnes. With an audible sigh he breathed out.

"Very well, this will be a joint mission," he said. "We'll need another captured German aircraft. Perhaps our friends in the Resistance can find one already there waiting to be liberated." He looked at Steven Grant. "For a man who wanted to keep under the radar with his missions you sure seem to come up with big targets. Make sure your next missions after this are more focused on direct HYDRA activity."

"We can give all the credit to the Howling Commandos and Captain America," he said. "Keep HYDRA and the Nazis wondering how he can do so much. The results are what's important ... sir."

Ten days later

The time for the latest radio check-in on the mission was almost upon them and General Phillips found himself pacing back and forth anxiously. Ever since the combined mission had taken off in the late evening hours two days before he had second guessed his decision to take on the task of dismantling one of the largest concentration camps under Nazi control and attempting to kidnap Josef Mengele, the doctor in charge of the medical experimentation at that camp. Against his better judgement he had also allowed Dr. Waslewski and Agent Carter to accompany the two squads. The idea of sending women into battle still rankled him but Carter had taken it upon herself to get the doctor qualified in marksmanship and basic self-defence. Both squads of men had given the women their support and if they were willing to fight beside them then who was he to protest.

They had signalled their arrival at the airfield when they landed. There had been another signal that the transport of children prisoners was underway back to the airfield. A second large aircraft had been found there and it's re-purposing was also confirmed by the coded signal. Since then, there had been nothing and Phillips had visions of the headlines in newspapers in the free world lamenting the capture of Captain America and his Howling Commandos. Even worse was the growing worry that he had just provided the Nazis, and HYDRA with a ready-made squad of super soldiers, men they could convert into killers with the use of that machine that Grant talked about. A hand appeared holding a glass with something bubbling in it. He looked to see the concerned face of Dr. Erskine.

"Antacid," he said, gesturing with the glass towards the General. "I imagine your stomach is giving you issues right now."

Phillips nodded and drained the glass, putting it down on the table nearest him.

"I'm terrified that I've just handed the Germans and HYDRA the means to win the war," he said.

"Understandable," replied Erskine. "Except they won't go down without a fight. You know that in your heart. They believe in what they are trying to do."

"I know, but I still worry," countered Phillips. He looked up at the clock, and the chalkboard beside it which had the mission elapsed time on it. "Coming up to 24 hours elapsed time. If they don't get on their way ..."

A Morse code signal was heard being received by the operator in the radio room, its door open to them. Another man sat next to her and wrote down the words as she responded to the signal that a message was imminent. As he wrote it down on a slip of paper it was handed to another waiting man who gave it to the General. There was more and they were furiously writing it down. Phillips looked at the first message.

"Proverbs, 24:11-12," he said. "Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. If you say, "But we knew nothing about this," does not he who weighs the heart perceive it? Does not he who guards your life know it? Will he not repay everyone according to what they have done?" He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes with it before looking back at Dr. Erskine. "I guess today we are good men and we've done our part to keep evil from being triumphant."

The second message was coded, and it took time for it to be decoded and handed to the General. He read it, then handed it to the Doctor before leaving to compose himself.

OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED. 87 CHILDREN AND 41 ADULTS RESCUED. PRISONERS ARMED AND MANY READY TO ESCAPE UNDER THEIR OWN POWER. GAS CHAMBERS BURNING, CREMATORIA BLOWN UP. DR. MENGELE DEAD BY HIS OWN HAND. THIS CAMP IS CLOSED. ETA 6 HOURS.

With a smile, Dr. Erskine read it over and over before placing the note on the table. If there was proof of the power of the serum this was it. The super soldiers, no matter the source of the serum they were given, were good men who rose to the occasion to perform a mitzvah, a good deed. What was even more evident, was that their actions had also spurred the other men in those squads, ordinary men, into being just as good. A big target was taken down today and its significance wasn't to be lost on anyone, on either side of the war.

Chapter Text

After what both squads witnessed on the mission to Auschwitz, Christmas was mostly subdued and quiet.  They were glad they were able to help the children they rescued, although most of them were severely traumatized from the short time they had suffered at that horrible place.  The adults, comprised primarily of very pregnant women, were also thankful for the rescue, knowing that their children would be born in a free country.  Both the Jewish and Romani communities in England stepped up to absorb the rescued individuals into their homes, assuring the government and military that they would be treated with the greatest of care.

Those who went on the mission passed the hat around, contributing some of their pay towards the costs of taking care of the refugees.  Prayers of thanks were said for the men and two women on the mission in many synagogues.  The Romani, who often adopted the dominant religion of the country they lived in, did the same in churches across the United Kingdom, spread across several denominations.

The newspapers published articles about the mission, complete with photographs provided by Eva Waslewski, who brought a camera to document the atrocities.  It caused a furor in the countries who had allied with England, asking how long this had been going on in Nazi-held territory, and what were the military authorities going to do about the situation.  Although General Phillips received a mild reprimand for approving the mission without notifying Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF) commander in chief, General Eisenhower, he was just as quickly forgiven.  Apparently, it had been suspected the atrocities were happening for over a year but there hadn't been enough military support to draw up a plan to liberate the concentration camps or to handle the thousands of affected prisoners in them.  Now there was, and as the allies advanced in Europe the camps became a priority.

About a month after the mission, the trickle of prisoners who had successfully escaped Auschwitz and connected with the various Resistance factions in Germany, Italy, France, Belgium and Holland, became a steady stream as they made their way to freedom.  It kept the story alive for several more months and a significant number of the escapees in those countries to join the various Resistance groups in actively fighting the Nazis and HYDRA.

Although Christmas in England was relatively tranquil, the teams were still busy as new missions were planned, separate ones.  They trained separately, but still socialized together, often at the local pub.  Now that she had been on a mission, Dr. Waslewski was invited to come and after several instances of begging off, allowed Peggy to convince her to attend.  When the two women entered the local pub there was a moment when Steve Rogers nudged Steven Grant then looked towards the entrance.  Peggy smiled at Steve and walked towards him while Steven stood up and approached Eva.

"You came," he said, then looked, appreciating the green dress she wore.  "You look nice without your lab coat."  He blushed.  "I mean, you look good in your lab coat but it's nice to see you out of it."  She grinned at him as he stammered.  "I'm not saying you look beautiful very well, am I?"

"Thank you, I think you're being very kind," she said, then she looked around.  "So, this is the place where everyone comes to let their hair down?  It's very quaint.  I like it."

"What would you like to drink?" he asked.

"I'm partial to red wine, although I do enjoy a whiskey," she said.  "Either is fine."

She went on towards where Peggy was sitting beside Steve, taking the chair that Sergeant Howlett gave her while he went to get another.  Steven stood at the bar getting the two whiskeys, joined by Steve getting the same for himself and Peggy.  Placing one in front of Eva the agent sat next to her, then raised his glass.

"To your good health," he said to everyone.

"Na zdrowie!" said Eva, smiling.  "Polish version of Cheers."  She sipped the whiskey then looked at the others.  "I received a letter from one of the pregnant Romani women we rescued.  She had her child; a son and she named him Steven.  So far, he seems to be healthy.  She wanted you to know."

Both Stevens smiled.  The boy was born free and that was worth a lot.  The piano player started playing some sing along music and it was hard not to enjoy the camaraderie as many joined in.  It felt very jovial to the doctor but as she looked around, she realized that not everyone was there.

"Where is Sergeant Barnes?" she asked Steve Rogers.  "I thought you and he were good friends."

"We are but he had a date," answered Steve.  "One of the cooks.  He's ... popular with the ladies."

"I already gathered that," she smiled.  "Whenever he comes in to be assessed he makes overtures to Lt. Hay, unsuccessful ones.  Was he like that before the serum?"

Both men answered in unison.  "You have no idea."

They laughed at their synchronous response, then each took another sip of the whiskey.

"Before his voice even changed girls liked him," said Rogers.  "Then he grew taller, stronger, and more handsome.  He was also smart and just seemed to know how to talk to anyone."

"I think he was born flirting," said Grant.  "His first word was likely Darlin', or Sweetheart."

They both chuckled, remembering how popular Bucky had been in Brooklyn.  A sad look passed quickly over Grant's features, so fleeting that only Eva noticed it but she said nothing, not wanting to dampen the festive atmosphere.  It wasn't until later when they were walking back to the base together and she took Grant's arm that she brought it up.  He stiffened slightly then looked ahead to where Steve and Peggy were walking, hesitant to say anything when he knew the young captain could hear him.  Slowing their pace down a bit they fell further behind until Grant couldn't hear the young couple's conversation.

"HYDRA tried to scrape away everything good about Bucky," he said.  "His good nature, his decency, his easy ways with people, his need to protect those who were important to him, were all just obstacles to be destroyed.  They wanted him to be a killer, to kill on command, without emotion or mercy.  He was almost completely broken by it, and I had to leave him behind before I could be sure he was going to be okay.  I regret that it had to be that way, but we were dealing with things that superseded my wishes.  Still feel like I abandoned him."

Even in the dark she could sense the guilt he still felt.  There was something familiar about it that brought her own share of guilt up into her throat, making her feel a little queasy.  Quickly, she breathed out and focused back on Grant.

"Will you ever be able to learn if he regained what he lost?" she asked.

"It's not something I'm allowed to know, I'm guessing," he said carefully.  "It was hinted that with this Bucky, I succeed, although the fact he still received the initial serum treatment concerns me.  Anything could go wrong on the missions as this time does have its differences.  You, for example.  You weren't here in England during my original time here."  He could sense her slight smile at his words.  "I do worry about the Bucky I left behind as I couldn't change his past.  This is a new timeline and he's still in his, still has to manage on his own and learn to be part of that time.  I do hope with all my heart that he's happy and finds peace.  After all that he suffered he deserves that."

She squeezed his arm with her hand, receiving a grim smile in return.  His admission of uncertainty involving the future Bucky Barnes that he left behind made her think of her sister, Anya.  She hoped her sister was alive and unharmed.  Even though Anya had been taken from the German camp where Eva was based, no word had been received from her in the months after.

The base gate loomed up in the dark and they all checked in, continuing their walk towards the women's quarters.  Outside the door Steve and Peggy kissed affectionately, then she went inside immediately.  Nodding his head at Grant and Eva, the current Captain America gave them some privacy and waited a respectful distance away.

"I'm glad I came out tonight," said the doctor.  "It was pleasant to be with you and your men.  They're good men, all of them and they care about you, both groups care about both of you Stevens."

He smiled, slightly embarrassed.  "They were ...." He corrected himself.  "They are the best men for this job."  He swallowed then, as if he wanted to say something else but instead, he looked at her directly in the eyes.  "We're going to find your sister.  I promise that no matter how long it takes, how many bases we raid, that I'll find her."

"I know."

She kissed him gently on the cheek, close to his lips then looked up at him, only the light of the moon illuminating their faces.  Without really knowing why, just knowing that he wanted to, Steven leaned closer and kissed her on the lips, his hands gently holding her arms.  Then he pulled away and smiled.

"Good night, Eva."

"Good night, Steven."

Inside the door of the women's quarters Peggy was still waiting.  The two women walked in silence towards their rooms then the young Englishwoman stood outside her door as Eva kept going towards hers.  The doctor turned back and looked at Peggy, who stood in the light now streaming from her room.  She tried to say something to the younger woman, but the words weren't coming out.  The English agent smiled kindly at her.

"They're both so alike," she said.  "I liked Steve before he had the serum.  He was kind, smart, and very brave, braver than anyone gave him credit for.  Steven is the same man but tempered by his years in the future.  There is a weariness about him, a sadness that I suspect comes from his guilt about not saving that Bucky, then from having to leave him behind.  Tonight was one of the first times I saw him enjoying himself, and I think it was because you were there.  If you let him into your heart, he would be devoted to you."

Eva listened then smiled a sad smile of her own.  "Good night, Agent Carter."

Inside her room, the doctor leaned against the door, then touched her lips where the older man had kissed her.  Steven Grant's affections definitely could be something that could fill some of the emptiness inside her, but would he still feel the same if he knew the complete truth?  She closed her eyes, trying to force down the despair she felt but it bubbled up like acid and instead she cried into her pillow for a long time before falling asleep in her clothes.

~~~~~~~~~~

As the months progressed both squads undertook more missions separately.  The Phantom Patrol went deep into enemy territory many times, locating several small labs and factories that were being run by HYDRA.  Before destroying the facilities, the people manning them were questioned, given the chance to declare their opposition to HYDRA or their loyalty to it.  It was a strange thing to behold when they chose the latter, as true believers were proud of their association and would stand rigidly at attention, making the HYDRA salute as they hailed its superiority.  They were turned over to the local Resistance for trial and sentencing, their names recorded so that their duplicity would become a matter of public scrutiny.  Each facility's records were searched for information on other facilities, other loyal followers, and the atrocities that were being committed on that organization's behalf.

Lt. Sousa's work with the unit was invaluable as he seemed to have a sixth sense of how to get the patrol into ever increasingly dangerous territory.  With the combined talents of the entire squad, they came back with a lot of intelligence, including the names of compromised individuals that were still part of the military, or allied governments.  It was eye-opening but also disheartening to know the number of HYDRA sympathizers that were in positions of authority.

After several months of finding the proof and acting on it, the leads began to dry up.  Some military analysts thought it was an indication that they were beating back the enemy.  In meetings between Grant, Sousa, General Phillips, and Steve Rogers a different reason was becoming increasingly obvious to them.  For those who were actually undertaking the missions it was more a reminder that only the tip of the iceberg was visible now.  In their opinion HYDRA was even more dangerous as more of their activities retreated to the shadows.  Those shadows were well hidden, meaning their missions became even more dangerous, as they often went in almost blind.

After each mission by each squad the injured men would report to the medical centre for treatment.  Although Dr. Erskine, Dr. Waslewski, and Major Lambert continued to work on the new serum, they were always available to provide medical care to the returning soldiers.  Both Captain Rogers and Special Agent Grant would accompany their men who needed medical treatment.  Each time Grant arrived he took it upon himself to tell Eva there was still no sign of her sister Anya; telling the doctor that it seemed she had disappeared completely into the machinery of the fascist organization.  Each time, Eva would thank him for telling her in person then return to the task at hand as she treated the wounds suffered by his men.

The missions of the Howling Commandos were more public in their execution, as they now had their own film crew, following them to document their activities against the enemy.  It wasn't the first film unit to follow a specific branch of the Armed Forces as the Army Air Force had their own unit since 1942, using them for training films and propaganda.  For the SSR, the film unit was also used to combat HYDRA and Nazi propaganda about the squad, specifically the rumours that Sergeant Barnes was a spy.  Even though the lies about him still swirled mostly around military circles there was word of rumours being heard in the New York area.  In all of the films that were shown as part of newsreels in theatres back home, his bravery and commitment to the fight was extolled as being equal to that of Captain America.

The footage always showed Bucky at his best; a handsome, perfect physical specimen of American manhood, consummate soldier, and desired object of female attention.  He found it amusing at first, then began to chafe at the constant filming of his activities while the rumours and lies continued.  During one short duration near the end of May 1944, Bucky was sparring at a makeshift boxing ring set up for an increasing number of soldiers to work off their frustrations waiting for the next campaign as they were confined to base for security purposes.  He and Sergeant Howlett were going at it, both of them quite well matched.  They had drawn a small audience of soldiers watching the two muscular men trade blows.  After they finished, they both hit the showers.  Standing in front of the mirror after his shower, Bucky, wrapped only in a towel, began to shave.  Howlett, already dressed, stopped beside him before leaving the building.

"How often do you actually have to shave?" he asked.

"Every day, twice a day, if I have a date later," replied Bucky.  "The ladies like it better if I do.  The Doc says it's the serum.  Have to cut my hair every month as well.  You don't ...?"

The Canadian paratrooper shook his head.  "I usually wear a beard during peacetime.  Since I work mostly as a lumberjack or miner, I can go longer without shaving or cutting my hair."  He looked at his watch.  "Briefing in 30 minutes.  You'll be there?"

"Yeah, I'll be there right away," replied Bucky, pulling the razor down on one cheek.

He quickly finished shaving then returned to where his clothes were and began to put them on.  Outside he could hear the conversations of other soldiers as they passed by the open window that lined the top of the room.  He froze when he heard his name mentioned.

"I don't know why Barnes is allowed to walk freely around here," said one man, whose voice he didn't recognize.  "You'd think they would take all the rumours seriously about him.  Especially when the invasion is just around the corner."

"Yeah, well, his nose is so far up Cap's ass I'm surprised they haven't been busted for something else," said another voice, one he did recognize; a corporal named Hoffman.  "I heard that HYDRA made him that way just to turn Cap into a fairy."

Both men grunted out some crude names as they laughed then railed about Barnes and Rogers getting the silk glove treatment from their superiors.  A feeling of intense rage began building in Bucky's body, filling him with a white-hot burning.  Quickly, he headed outside, turning the corner to confront the two men but they had moved on.  In a fury, he returned to the barracks, angrily stowing his shaving kit in his upright locker and sitting on his bunk.

"Hey Sarge, Cap said he needs to see you before the briefing," said Dugan, entering the space.  He stopped, noticing the angry look on Barnes face.  "Bucky, is everything okay?"

Looking up at the big man Bucky almost snapped but he drew in a deep breath and shook his head.  Standing up, he headed out the door to find Steve.  He went to the briefing room, his mind rankled at what the two men had said, wondering how the rumours just didn't seem to die but were now including Steve.  The command group along with Howlett were already there, except for the General, and they all looked over as Bucky entered.  Right away, Steve could tell something was wrong.

"Buck, what's happened?" he asked, pulling him aside.  "You look angry."

"Nothin'," replied Bucky tersely.  "Dum Dum said you wanted to see me."

"Yeah," answered Steve, still concerned about Bucky.  "I'm giving you a heads up that something big is about to happen.  You probably know what I'm talking about.  We're suspending our usual missions for a couple of weeks while we offer our services to what's coming."

Bucky looked at his friend, expectantly.  Could it be the invasion that had been rumoured for the past month?  He raised his eyebrows to which Steve nodded.

"Okay," answered the young sergeant.  "Are we letting the boys know?"

"Waiting on the General for that," said Steve, looking back at the others before refocusing on Bucky.  "I'm going to ask once more ... what's wrong?"

Bucky blushed then looked away.  "Heard two guys talking outside the shower room," he replied.  "Bitching about me being able to walk around freely.  Hoffman said there's a rumour HYDRA changed me so that I could turn you into a ...."  He stopped, unable to say it.  His eyes burned with anger.  "It's bad enough that the rumours about me are still making the rounds but now they're dragging you in."

Steve's face fell a little.  "I already heard but hadn't said anything to you," he admitted.  "I didn't want to upset you."  He placed his hand firmly on Bucky's shoulder.  "We know it's just the enemy trying to hurt our morale.  Even the brass knows it.  Your conduct is not being questioned.  Hoffman should be more worried about his own behaviour."  Bucky looked up at Steve, wondering if there was more explanation.  The young captain set his jaw firmly.  "Let's just say that he might be guilty of very loose lips in several areas and is on the verge of being questioned by Army Intelligence as he seems to know more than his rank should allow him."

The arrival of their squads interrupted the two men and they stood at the front of the room as the others filed in.  When General Phillips appeared in the doorway followed by Agent Carter, Lt. Sousa saw him first and called them all to attention.  They stood, waiting for the General to acknowledge them.  He did so immediately.

"Sit down, smoke if you have them," he said.  "Gentlemen, we've been here at the base for the past few days, cooling our heels while the military leadership decided whether it was business as usual for us or if we would be seconded to the invasion.  You've probably noticed the level of frustration with the regular army stationed at this base.  They've been waiting for weeks to get to work.  Well, their time is almost here.  Today is May 31.  On June 4, your two squads will parachute into various parts of western France during a night drop, and you will meet up with the resistance in the areas being considered for the invasion.  Where that is will not be shared until you're already in the air.  Your job will be sabotage, blowing up fuel dumps or rail lines, anything that could support bringing more German reinforcements into the areas.  Some of your efforts will be diversionary, making the Germans think that's where the invading force is headed.  We want their forces scattered when the actual invasion begins."

With that announcement he left the rest of the briefing to the Captain and the Special Agent as they divided their men up into smaller groups of three.  Dernier and Rumlow were detailed to make sure everyone knew how to set up demolition charges.  The resistance would provide the explosives from an equipment drop that was expected several hours after they parachuted in and rendezvoused with their contacts.  As their combined force was 17 men, they needed one more person to make up the final trio.  Agent Carter was announced as that person.  It was one of the proudest moments of her life that not a single man said she shouldn't be on the mission.  After seeing her in action at Auschwitz they all knew she was up to the task.

Over the next two weeks the three men units, six in total, underwent several days of training then parachuted into western France on June 4th, joining forces with the French Resistance.  Together, they helped to delay or stop German reinforcements from approaching the coast after D-Day began on June 6.

On the 13th of June the scattered units of the two squads reunited outside the French town of Carentan, arriving at the ending stages of the German counterattack that the American forces repelled to take permanent control of the town.  Although they had no casualties there were injuries and they were transported to the coast where thousands of soldiers were landing to support the invading force.  Boarding one of those troopships they were returned back to England.  It had been their longest mission, aimed more at the German armed forces than at HYDRA.

When they returned to their base it was to something different than what they had left as it seemed security had been increased to a level never seen before.  Each of them was directed to wait for questioning, herded into a room with two MPs waiting at the door.  When Special Agent Grant, as the highest-ranking officer, was asked to be questioned first, he looked at the man sitting at the table in the interrogation room, not recognizing him.

"Special Agent Steven Grant?" said the man, opening a folder in front of him.  "Have a seat."

"You are?" replied Grant.

"Colonel John Kirk, Army CIC," he replied.  "Tell me, when and where were you were born?"

"July 4, 1904," answered Grant, quickly.  "Hell's Kitchen, New York City.  Why are my men being held for questioning?"

"They aren't your men," answered Kirk, reading from his file folder.  "They are the men of the United States Army, except for Jacques Dernier, a member of the French Resistance, and Sergeant James Howlett of the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion.  Tell me, how did you get these men transferred to your secret little army?"

"Excuse me?" asked Grant, incredulously.  "We put all transfer requests through the proper channels.  All the orders went through General Phillips, and we were given permission to form two special squads by General Eisenhower himself.  Colonel, why are you questioning the men of the Howling Commandos and the Phantom Patrol?  Where is General Phillips?"

"The General is at SHAEF headquarters, undergoing his own questioning," said Kirk.  "You also have a British agent, a woman, Agent Peggy Carter of the SSR, formerly of British Intelligence."  He fixed his gaze on Grant.  "Nice looking woman.  There is also a German doctor, Dr. Abraham Erskine, who was thought to have been killed in Brooklyn, and a Polish doctor, Dr. Eva Waslewski, who was apparently on the staff of a German prisoner of war camp suspected of performing medical experiments on American soldiers until she showed up recently at this base with four men in capsules.  Another doctor, a Major Lambert and a nurse, Lieutenant Hay have already been questioned and we are satisfied they are what they appear to be."

"We rescued the soldiers enclosed in those capsules," stated Grant.  "We had intelligence that Dr. Waslewski was a Resistance plant at the camp, and it was her reports that alerted us to its existence.  Those men in the capsules are all Americans and we also rescued a significant number of airmen from the same camp.  Dr. Erskine is the lead scientist behind a classified SSR project that I'm not at liberty to talk about."

Kirk took another sheet of paper out of the folder.  "Project Rebirth, I've been read in," he said, dismissively.  "How is it that many of the men of the two squads were men who were PoWs of either the Germans or HYDRA, that were miraculously rescued from places deep in enemy territory?  One of them, Sergeant James Barnes, was apparently experimented on himself, and has been the subject of some pretty convincing rumours about his loyalties.  Two of your men were removed from a military prison, using what may have been a forged authorization."

"It wasn't forged," glared Grant.  "We needed their skills, and I was ...."

Kirk waved off Grant's explanation.  "The only legitimate soldiers in either of your squads with no questions attached about any contact with the enemy is Lt. Daniel Sousa, seconded from the 28th Infantry Regiment, and your Corporal, David Rose and even he isn't what he seems.  We have no record of his birth, or his American citizenship ... nothing until he volunteers a week after Pearl Harbor."  He leaned forwards towards Grant.  "Why is that?"

Grant's initial response was to glare at the Colonel.  He wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like the insinuations that what they had been doing wasn't above board.  The fact that Kirk used his rank also bothered him.  When Howard Stark arranged for him to join the Army Counter Intelligence Corps it had been made very clear to him that the agents kept their ranks on the down low so that they had greater latitude in operating.  Although the General in charge of Army CIC didn't know everything about Grant, he had learned enough to accept that his knowledge of HYDRA was superior to any other officer in that division.  This Kirk individual seemed to be trying to get Grant to admit to operating illegally, or worse yet, to being disloyal.

"You don't have the clearance," said Grant, finally.  "For all I know you are with the enemy and I'm not talking about the Nazis.  We've just come back from almost two weeks in France, sabotaging fuel dumps, railway lines, and German vehicles to prevent reinforcements from reaching the coast during the invasion.  We hid in barns or attics during the day, eating when we were fortunate enough to find enough food to keep our stomachs from growling, and at night we did our job, without question, or hesitation.  If you have accusations to make, I suggest you make them now, then arrest me and my men, all of my men.  That includes the two women you referred to because they are just as capable as any man I've ever served with."  He stood up to leave, watched carefully by Kirk.  "Just so you know, I'll be checking up on you, Colonel.  We uncovered the names of sympathizers high up in command positions.  We've been getting close to identifying others who are compromised.  If you're connected to any of them, your own investigations will be considered suspect and at some point, our situations could be reversed."

Not waiting for an answer Grant left.  He stopped where the others were waiting and gazed thoughtfully at all of them.  Steve Rogers stood up.

"What's our move?" he asked.

"Return to our quarters and business as usual," said Grant.  "They're fishing for information.  I'm guessing we're getting too close for some people high up in the chain of command and they're trying to scare us into backing down.  We present a united front, tell them nothing, no matter what they threaten."  He returned to the doorway then looked at the MPs, recognizing one of them and addressing him directly.  "Corporal Best, we're going to our quarters.  If the order is given to arrest us, I expect you to do your duty.  None of us will think any less of you.  Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," replied the MP.  He leaned closer.  "The General gave me a message before he went to SHAEF headquarters.  Veritas vincit.  Told me to tell you."  He looked at the other MP quickly before returning his attention to Grant.  "What does it mean?"

"The truth prevails," said Grant, smiling.  "It will be alright, Corporal.  Carry on."

Leading the others out they all fully expected a shout for them to stop but nothing came, and they went to their barracks, while Grant and Steve walked with Peggy to the lab.  Major Lambert, Lt. Hay, Dr. Erskine and Dr. Waslewski were all in there, quickly standing up as the three of them entered.

"When did Colonel Kirk arrive here?" asked Grant.

"Two days ago," said Lambert.  "He asked to see Corporal Hoffman first then after talking to him showed up here at the lab, asking all sorts of questions.  Even looked at the empty capsules.  Demanded to know why it was reported that Dr. Erskine had been declared killed in Brooklyn."

"We told him it was Top Secret, and that he didn't have clearance," added Erskine.  "He brought up Project Rebirth and asked if we were continuing the work here.  We refused to answer."

"I went to get General Phillips only to be told he had been called to SHAEF headquarters," said Lt. Hay.  "It's like they set it all up for a time when you were all away, the General sent to HQ and then Kirk brought in some of his own MPs to supplement ours.  What do they want?"

"Information," replied Grant.  "I told him if he has evidence of wrongdoing to arrest us, all of us.  I don't think it will come to that.  I've got a phone call to make to ask about him.  We've done almost everything above board.  The only thing he's got us on is keeping the fact that Dr. Erskine is still alive, not dead as was previously reported."

"I'm just worried that if he's HYDRA he knows that Project Rebirth has continued," said Peggy.  "Hoffman is the one that's been flapping his lips to anyone who'll listen, right?"

"Yeah," answered Grant.  "Let me make that call."

He went to General Phillip's office, checking in with Private Lorraine, still the General's secretary.  Looking at him with some alarm, she put her finger up to her lips when he began to ask about what was going on then wrote something down on a slip of paper, showing it to him.  Nodding at her message he touched her arms and gently squeezed them.  She tore up the note into little bits then returned to her desk as he left, her business-like demeanour changing to the one of a stereotypical blonde that she often showed.  Heading out of the General's office he walked over to the radio room, noticing two MPs guarding the door.

"Sorry, sir, but no one is allowed into the radio room until Colonel Kirk gives permission," said the one MP who was a stranger to Grant.

"I understand," said the super soldier, "but I think there's something you don't know about me."  He leaned very close to the MP's ear and whispered.  "Hail HYDRA."

The man looked at him, then a small grin appeared on his face.

"Yes sir, go on in," he answered.

Nodding at the man, Grant stepped just behind him then grabbed him, knocked his helmet off and rammed his head into the door jamb.  The man crumpled, unconscious.  The other MP looked at Grant with alarm, automatically reaching for his sidearm.

"Help me get him inside and cuff him," said Grant.  "He's HYDRA.

"Sir?"

"Damn it, Martino," hissed Grant as he picked the unconscious man up and deposited him inside one of the offices.  "This Colonel and these extra MPs are HYDRA agents.  We need to contain them before they do real damage to us.  Find the MPs that are normally on this base and alert them, quietly.  They aren't to do anything until I give the signal.  Don't say anything to Corporal Hoffman.  I suspect he's with them."

Martino gave him the cuffs and they restrained the man.  Checking inside the radio room Grant was relieved to see it was their people inside and he alerted them to the infiltration.  They barricaded themselves inside, sending a coded message for more help, and he slipped out the door, running towards the lab.  Before he got there, he saw Kirk entering the lab with one of his MPs, while the base MP was still on guard outside.  Approaching him quietly he put his finger up to his lips.

"Sherman, isn't it?" He lowered his voice.  "What were your orders?"

"The Colonel said I was to keep everyone out and ignore any sounds coming the lab," said the obviously agitated MP.  "What kind of order is that sir?  What's going on?"

"Infiltration by HYDRA," stated Grant.  "Go to the barracks and make up some story as to why you have to get inside but don't trust any of the new MPs.  I'm pretty sure they're HYDRA as well.  Tell the others on the teams what I told you.  We're going to neutralize all of them.  You go to the radio hut and keep guard there.  Don't let anyone you don't personally know go inside.  Corporal Hoffman might be with them.  We left one of their MPs in cuffs there while Martino alerts the rest of our MPs.  Keep your wits about you.  You can do this."

Patting the young MP on his shoulder he smiled reassuringly at him and took his place, looking through the window.  As he contemplated what he could do to keep the lab occupants safe while he dealt with Kirk and his MP he was soon joined by Rogers and Barnes who handed him a handgun.

"That was fast," said Grant.  "I only just sent Sherman to get you."

"Martino showed some initiative," said Rogers.  "He alerted us first and we took care of Kirk's MP then sent Martino and the others to get our MPs.  The others are going to engage the other fakes.  How did you figure it out?"

"Private Lorraine," smiled Grant.  "Wrote me a note saying she noticed an octopus tattoo on the wrist of one of the MPs when she tried flirting with him.  Recognized it as the HYDRA insignia.  She's a lot smarter than she lets on."

The other two nodded in agreement then turned their attention back to the lab.  So far Kirk and his MP were just standing there but the officer's instruction to ignore any sounds worried Grant.

"I don't think they realize what or who I am," he said to the other two.  "Kirk asked my date of birth and birthplace.  I gave him a different year to match my current age.  I'm going to go in there.  I'll try to protect the others from harm while you two come in from this door.  You're both capable of moving faster than the eye can detect and should be able to easily handle the two of them.  Ready?"

Grant entered the lab, leaving the other two in the hallway.  As soon as he did Kirk and his MP pulled out their guns, pointing them at him.

"What's going on?" asked Grant, trying to appear harmless.

"Come in, Special Agent Grant," said Kirk.  "Don't make any sudden moves or you'll find yourself on the receiving end of a bullet.  The MP wasn't supposed to let anyone in."

He approached carefully, putting himself in front of the others.  "Yeah, well, he knows me, and he was concerned about your instructions to ignore any sounds coming from here.  What are your intentions ... Colonel?"

Kirk grinned, in a way that almost sickened Grant.  "We are men of action, Special Agent.  I recognize that so let's not mince any words, hmm?  I need Dr. Erskine and Dr. Waslewski, plus all of their research and any serum they have managed to create.  Then you will provide a truck for us to leave the base, along with Captain America, Sergeant Barnes and Corporal Bradley.  Failure to do so will result in my MPs killing everyone."

"That's a lot to ask for," replied Grant.  "You know that I can't let that happen."  He looked towards the door where Bucky and Steve quietly stepped inside, giving Grant a nod.  Kirk didn't appear to hear their entry.  "We've already neutralized your MPs.  All that is left are you two.  You know that we will use deadly force to stop you."

"Doesn't matter," smiled Kirk.  "Cut off the head ...."

Grant waved his hand in dismissal.  "I don't want to hear it," he stated.  "It's a stupid saying, and you HYDRA guys always say it just before you get your asses kicked."

"Stupid Americans," muttered Kirk, then he looked at the MP.  "Execute the hostages."

"Hail HYDRA," declared the man before turning just as Bucky punched him.

Rogers grabbed Kirk, pushing him to his knees, while removing his gun from his hand.  Before any of them could react Kirk smiled again and pushed a false tooth out of place, before biting down on it.  As the poison bubbled out of his mouth, he glared at them, then spasmed and fell sideways onto the floor of the lab, dead.  Grant looked at the others.

"You're all okay?" he asked.  "I think he intended to use torture to get your cooperation."

Howlett entered the lab, his cigar firmly in place.  He smirked at the dead body then gave his report.

"The fake MPs are all in custody now.  Hoffman was with them.  He took the easy way out, but a couple of the guys he spoke with say he's been here a while, feeding the rumour mill.  We did find one casualty."  He looked at Bucky sympathetically.  "One of the cooks, a Private Vera Boswick of the ATS.  She tried to stop one of the fake MPs from putting something in one of the coffee urns, likely poison.  He snapped her neck then ordered the others into a cooler at gunpoint.  The kitchen will have to be decontaminated."

"Do you know if they communicated with anyone off the base?" asked Grant.

"No, I figured once you started interrogating the fake MPs you could get answers.  We made sure any fake tooth they had came out.  They're all in the stockade, except for this one."

"Take him," said Rogers.  He turned to his friend.  "Bucky, I'm sorry.  I know you enjoyed her company."

Bucky grimaced but didn't say anything.  He helped Howlett pick up the now groggy MP and dragged him out of the lab.  Promising to send someone to pick up the dead HYDRA agent, Grant left with Rogers to the sight of the base being swarmed with soldiers as help had finally arrived, along with the General.  A lockdown was ordered although a mobile canteen was allowed to enter to replace the poisoned kitchen facilities.  Until they unravelled exactly who was who and what happened, no one was going anywhere.  At least now, it was obvious to the military leadership that HYDRA would go to any lengths to interfere with the missions of their two special squads.

Chapter Text

It didn't take too long to unravel how HYDRA had infiltrated the base. Although Corporal Hoffman was legitimately a member of the U.S. Army, he was also a man with rich tastes that weren't satisfied by a corporal's wages. HYDRA offered him money and power to spy on the Howling Commandos, and the Phantom Patrol, to spread the rumours about Bucky Barnes, then finally to assist the infiltration team in getting on the base while the two squads were in France. The doctors and their serum were the initial targets but when the squads returned Kirk decided to take the three most known super soldiers for transport to one of their labs, where they could be turned to HYDRA's control and use.

The first thing Special Agent Steven Grant did when he had the opportunity to speak privately with the General was to recommend Private Lorraine and Corporal Martino for promotion and commendation. Privates Sherman and Best were also given commendations for their quick response once a problem was identified. The ATS cook, Private Vera Boswick, on General Phillips recommendation, received a posthumous promotion to full Corporal, plus her family eventually received the Victoria Cross from King George VI on her behalf, the only woman during World War II to have received it, an award for conspicuous bravery, especially during an act of self-sacrifice in the presence of the enemy. The General, Agent Carter, Captain America, Special Agent Grant, and Sergeant Barnes attended her funeral at the invitation of her family.

When Barnes was introduced to her parents, they knew who he was and thanked him for being a gentleman with "their Vera," protecting her reputation. Her sister, the one expecting a baby, told him that Vera considered him a good friend. He excused himself during the luncheon held at the local pub in her hometown after, stepping into the alley for a cigarette. Steven Grant found him back there.

"Give me one of those," he said, gesturing to the cigarette.

"You're asthmatic," replied Bucky. "Plus, you hate the smell."

"True but since neither of us can get drunk I figured I could at least smoke with you," grinned Grant.

With a smirk, Bucky gave him one, then lit the cigarette with his lighter. Grant took in a drag then coughed, making Bucky chuckle.

"Jesus, that tastes terrible," complained the older man. "You know they cause cancer, right? One of the biggest lies of the 20th century was the tobacco industry saying they were good for your health."

Bucky shrugged. "It calms me down, especially now," he answered, then he frowned. "Vera ... fuck, why? Why did she have to try to stop the guy? Why did he have to kill her? All he had to do was push her aside then put her in the cooler with the other cooks."

"She went after him with a knife," replied Grant. "The others said she never hesitated. That must have surprised him, triggering his response. Confirms how little they think of human life that he would feel threatened by her."

They said nothing for a while. Bucky kept smoking his cigarette, lighting a second one from the first, while Grant let his burn down before stubbing it out on the ground with his shoe. The older man hesitated at first then spoke his piece.

"The worst day of my life, after Ma died, was the day you fell from the train," said Grant, solemnly. "I was so close to you, inches away. Then the handle broke and you were gone, just like that. I'm ordering you not to go on any trains during any future missions. If you do, I'll court martial your ass and keep you in a military prison for the rest of the war."

"Steve," began Bucky, prepared to argue the point.

"It's not negotiable," said the other man. "This is Major Grant giving Sergeant Barnes an order. If I lose you again ...."

He turned away from Bucky, returning into the pub. Bucky felt the tears forming in his eyes, then wiped them roughly with his free hand before finishing his cigarette. It was several more minutes before he returned to the pub, barely talking to anyone but not leaving because that would be disrespectful to Vera. He owed her that much.

On their return to base Bucky went to the barracks, and asked Howlett to box with him, really box not just spar. The Canadian, relaxing and reading on his bunk, looked up at the young sergeant, still in his dress uniform, knowing he was hurting from the death of the cook, Vera. The man gave off all sorts of bad energy, like he wanted to kill someone. Howlett didn't want any part of it, knowing that the super soldier would likely fight without restraint.

"I don't want to fight you, Buck," he said. "Not now, not the way you're feeling."

"Someone better," replied Bucky, looking straight ahead as he spoke. "I have to get it out of my system, and you at least know how to box. If I do it with either Steve, they're my superior officers and I can get courtmartialed if I hurt them. I don't want to fight Bradley because he's been through enough. That leaves you. Please. I'm begging you before I start destroying the place."

The older man stood up, placed his hand on Bucky's arm. "No, wait until you've calmed down a bit."

"I can't wait!" Bucky yelled, drawing the attention of several others in the barracks. Jones ran to find an officer. "Can't you get that through your thick Canadian skull? Is that how you've managed to survive this long? You run away and hide?"

Howlett's jaw became firm as he stood closer to the young super soldier.

"Don't push me." His teeth ground together as he growled his words out. "You have no idea how dangerous I can be when I'm pushed too far. I'm giving you a break because I know you're hurting."

Bucky pushed Howlett, hard enough that he stumbled into his bed overturning it. "Coward."

Once again, the older soldier tried to leave but Bucky deliberately stood in his way, his breathing heavy as he glared at Howlett. He punched him in the jaw, barely moving the soldier.

"Bucky, don't," seethed Howlett.

"Why, are you afraid I'll hurt you?" Bucky taunted him. "I'll go easy, mutant."

A strange sound emanated from Howlett's hands, and he threw himself against Bucky, raising his one hand displaying thick bony claws that extended from between his knuckles. Roaring in fury he pushed Bucky against the wall then thrust his claws into the younger man's left shoulder, trapping him against the wooden surface. A scream came out of Bucky's mouth, but he kept goading Howlett.

"That's it? That's the big secret? Claws? I just wanted to box." His eyes were wild as he pushed against the older man, a sickening tearing sound coming from his shoulder as he pulled them both away from the wood, then continuing his tirade against the paratrooper with a sneer. "What else ya got, old man?"

Withdrawing his claws from the flesh, Howlett picked Bucky up and threw him across the room, overturning more bunks. Leaping over the jumble of furniture and mattresses he reached Bucky and picked him up by the collar to slash him across the face. Grant, Rogers and Sousa entered the room with the senior officer stepping forward before the older sergeant could inflict the blow.

"Howlett! Stand down!"

The older sergeant stood there, ready to kill Bucky, then it was like a light came on in his brain and his claws retracted. His face relaxed and he let Bucky go, watching with dismay as the younger man fell to the floor.

"I tried to tell him not to push me," he said, in barely a whisper. "He just kept on and on."

"I know," replied Grant, stepping closer to the Canadian as Rogers saw to Bucky. "It's alright. He knew what he was doing. He'll heal in no time." He made eye contact with Howlett, trying to reassure him then he looked at the others watching what had just happened. "What you saw doesn't leave this barracks, understand? We take care of our own. Come on, we'll get you both treated."

Rogers picked Bucky up in his arms while Grant led Howlett out. Sousa and the others began to pick up the scattered bunks, restoring the barracks to what it had been. No one talked about what they had just seen, not wanting either man to get into trouble. On the way to the infirmary Bucky looked up at Rogers.

"I fucked up, Steve," he said. "I'm sorry. Tell Howlett I'm sorry."

Rogers looked over at the other sergeant, his face seeming to show all of his years as he dealt with the fact that he had lost control and hurt someone.

"You'll tell him yourself," replied Rogers. "Why did you do it?"

"Pissed off. About Vera and the order Grant gave me."

Rogers nodded as Grant had told him what he told Bucky. "He's trying to keep you safe. You know that."

"I wasn't there for her, Steve. I could have been flirting with her and dealt with that asshole myself when he showed up. You'll get on a train during a mission and if I'm not there with you who will keep you safe? Can't trust anyone else." He looked off into the distance, his face full of misery. "I'm not a coward."

Both Steves made eye contact, knowing that Bucky's need to protect those he cared about was so strong. There was no easy answer but right now they needed to get his shoulder examined and treated. As they entered the infirmary Dr. Waslewski and Lt. Hay were on duty, both women coming over to triage Bucky first. Grant led Howlett to the other bed. While Rogers and Lt. Hay undressed Bucky, Dr. Waslewski turned her attention to Howlett.

"He got banged up a bit," said Grant. "Just make sure nothing's broken but he should stay here for a while. These two need to make amends."

She looked back at the blood from Bucky's wounds and rolled her eyes at Grant as if to say that she couldn't do anything if the fight continued. He shrugged and she sighed, feeling helpless. With a deep breath she re-focused as a doctor.

"Can you take your jacket and shirt off, Sergeant?" she asked.

He nodded and pulled his coverings off, revealing a sculpted abdomen and chest, along with well-muscled shoulders. When she shifted to examining his back, she saw his bruises visibly fade in front of her. Pressing gently into his spine and ribs she asked if anything hurt.

"No Ma'am," he replied quietly, watching Bucky. "I'm fine. See to Sergeant Barnes."

"In a moment," she said, calmly. "I want to make sure you're okay."

Lt. Hay gasped when she got Bucky's uniform jacket and dress shirt off revealing the deep puncture wounds on the front of his shoulder. Taking scissors, she cut his bloody undershirt away and saw the multiple bruises on his chest and abdomen. On his back it was worse as the exit wounds from the three large punctures was jagged and contaminated with wood shards. Coming back to Bucky's front she put her hands on his neck feeling for any injuries there. His blue eyes were dull and full of pain, but he watched her as she gently moved her touch from his neck to his head. Closing his eyes briefly as she felt his scalp for any injuries he murmured.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Feels good," he repeated. "Your hands are soft."

She smiled then shook her head. "Flirt," she whispered.

Rogers smiled and dropped his head as Bucky watched her again. His blue eyes were a lot prettier than she realized and they followed her, brimming with sadness. She had heard about the death of the cook and that he had been dating the young woman. It wasn't hard to imagine that he was hurting inside. Moving to his back she pressed against his ribs and spine making sure nothing was broken there.

"Doctor, Sergeant Barnes has three large puncture wounds in his shoulder that go from his chest to his back. The exit wounds are jagged and full of wood shards. Since the bleeding has stopped it appears his regenerative abilities have already started the healing process, but I think I should pick out as many of the shards as I can to avoid complications. An injection of penicillin should also be given."

Dr. Waslewski came over and briefly checked over Bucky's shoulder, moving it and having him rotate it to make sure there was no serious damage to the joint. She also confirmed there were no other significant injuries and gave permission for the penicillin and the cleaning of Bucky's wounds. Pulling the two officers over she looked at them, questioningly.

"What made those wounds?"

"Sergeant Howlett can generate claws from his hands," said Grant, reluctantly. "They only come out when he's full of rage. Bucky pushed him too far, deliberately. They'll both heal, I can assure you, but I need them to fix what's broken between them. Bucky has to make amends to Howlett for forcing him into this action. They're both already full of remorse for allowing themselves to lose control. I don't expect it to take long, nor do I think there will be a repeat."

"If they destroy this lab, it is on you both," she said. "Leave them with me and the Lieutenant."

As Lt. Hay began cleaning Bucky's wounds the doctor instructed Howlett to clean up in the restroom attached to the infirmary then to get into the bed when he returned. When he got back there was a clean shirt for him to change into and pyjama bottoms. A screen separated the beds and he undressed, putting the clean clothing on. After he got into the bed, Dr. Waslewski returned and stood at the side.

"Your body heals much faster, is that right?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered, looking at the screen that separated him from Bucky. "Is he alright?"

"He will be," she replied. "His healing factor, while still accelerated isn't as fast as yours. How long have you been like this?"

"Since I was 13, in 1845," he whispered. "I killed a man for killing my father, except the man I killed was my real father, a violent, brutal man. I've been on my own ever since. Should never have joined the squad. It was inevitable that I would lose control."

"You're a mutant," she stated to his surprise. "I am aware of individuals with unique abilities. Certain German doctors were also interested in people like yourself. You obviously have managed to cope relatively well if you are 112 years old and still free. If there is any group that would accept you at face value, it would be these men." She looked back at the cloth screen. "Bucky is hurting deeply right now. From my understanding he has a deep protective streak from his own upbringing. He feels guilty for failing to protect the young woman."

"Wasn't his fault," said Howlett, speaking loud enough for Bucky to hear him. "It's a hard thing to learn that no matter what abilities a man like us has, there are some things that can't be prevented. Her death was one of them."

"You're right but it will probably be a while until he believes it," she replied. "Until he does, he needs someone who has gone through it to help him. You can be that man. Stay here overnight and see what you can do. I'll release you in the morning."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Howlett. As she turned away, he cleared his throat. "Many people are afraid of me when they see what I can do. Thank you for not being like that."

She smiled then left him there to help Lt. Hay attend to Bucky. His front wounds had been cleaned while the nurse was still removing the visible shards of wood from his back. He sat facing the cloth screen, obviously hearing everything in the conversation between the doctor and Howlett. Standing near the young soldier she gazed at him until he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze.

"I've seen death before," he stated. "Grew up in Brooklyn during the Depression. People I knew died from the flu, pneumonia, polio. Steve almost died from his asthma several times. His Ma died from TB. None of it hit me like Vera's death."

"Did you love Vera?" asked Dr. Waslewski.

"No, but I liked her," he said. "She was fun and didn't mind that I didn't want a serious relationship." He glanced back at Lt. Hay as if he wanted her to hear this. "It's not exactly the right time to be serious about anyone when they can die at any moment. We went to the flicks, dancing, and the times we went further were nice. I treated her right. Made sure she got back to her billet safely, used a rubber, gave her pleasure and tried to make her feel like she was special. Was that so bad?"

"No, it's something that more men could do," replied the doctor. "It explains why I never hear a bad thing about you from the women on the base. You like women, genuinely like them, and it shows. Don't change how you care about someone because of what happened to her, Sergeant. Some things are beyond your control."

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied meekly. He straightened up and looked at the screen. "James?"

"Yeah, Buck," came the reply from behind the screen.

"I'm sorry for exposing your secret," he said, sincerely. "I was angry at myself mostly. Figured I needed a beating and decided you were just the one to give it to me. I won't abuse your trust again. I promise."

"It's alright, kid," said the older soldier. "We should work on ways for both of us to get our anger out without killing each other. Once you're healed up, we'll do something."

Dr. Waslewski smiled at Bucky, then squeezed his hand. She looked at Lt. Hay.

"Are you okay on your own for a few minutes?" she asked. "I need to take a break. I can bring a coffee back for you."

"I can manage," said the nurse. "A coffee would be great, thank you, cream and sugar."

With a nod Dr. Waslewski went out into the early evening air. The sun was still up and she could hear the sounds of soldiers playing baseball or throwing a football around. Some of the British ones were playing a soccer match. She went to the offices and asked if Special Agent Grant was around. He came out, surprised to see her.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. "They haven't resumed fighting, have they?"

"No, they're good," she replied. "I think they're going to work through some things together. I wanted to talk to you, privately."

"Come in my office," he said. The doctor shook her head and he saw by her face that she was troubled. "I know somewhere outside we can sit quietly. I go there to sketch on occasion and it's private."

It only took a few minutes for them to arrive at the spot, overlooking a broad valley. In the early evening sunlight, the view was spectacular. She sat quietly for some time while Grant watched her.

"I am 32 years old," she began. "Graduated from medical school with honours in 1936 and was invited to join Dr. Werner Müeller in the study of using cryogenics to stabilize critically injured patients to improve their chances of survival. It was exciting work and our research with animal test subjects had shown great potential for its use with humans. Then several SS officers showed up at the university, along with some other men. They wore Nazi uniforms, but their insignia was HYDRA. I believe they were the Nazi deep science division at that time."

Steven kept his face neutral as what the doctor told him was already known to him, having found the files on her work with HYDRA in 2020.

"We were conscripted into the German army's research division and found ourselves at a facility in Bavaria." She looked at him. "In your time in the future was anything known about the Lebensborn program?"

"Yes, it was seen as the way to promote the birth of pure Aryans," he said. "They believed by increasing the birth rate they could improve the genetic quality of the population."

"There were seven women who had given birth in the program starting in 1933, mutants, whose abilities were dormant until they became pregnant," she said. "They administered serum to the women while they were pregnant. The serum was still in an experimental stage and I'm certain Dr. Erskine was unaware of it being used."

She looked out over the valley, swallowed noticeably and began to wring her hands as she wrestled with her conscience. Steven took her hands in his, trying to calm her down.

"It's alright, you can tell me," he said, in as soothing a voice as he could manage.

Eva nodded. "Dr. Mengele oversaw the births," she began. "After the children were born the women were ... not allowed to live. I heard they were studied after death by various other Nazi doctors. I never asked any questions as it would have been dangerous to my life." Wrenching her hands away from his she buried her face in them and began to cry. "He performed experiments on the children, but they didn't cry from any pain stimuli, and didn't react in any way that made any sense until they were put into an ice chamber. Their hair turned almost white permanently and their skin took on a bluish hue, but they functioned; walking, talking, still being children. They were referred to as Geisterkinder, ghost children. Always hungry, but after eating their skin returned to a normal colour, as their hair retained its almost white appearance. Mengele wanted to kill them and study their bodies as their mothers had been studied but HYDRA had other plans. They observed all of the experiments then commissioned Dr. Müeller and our team to build seven small cryogenic capsules for the children. That was in 1938. The oldest was 5 years old, a girl named Irene. A sweet child ... they were all sweet, so trusting of the adults in the lab. Dr. Müeller went with them to an unknown location, and I never saw the children or him again. It was at that time that I joined the Resistance, vowing to use my position to uncover all that I could about what they did to people."

Steven gazed at her tear-stained face, knowing she had kept this part of her life secret, obviously haunted by the experimentation on the children, as well as not knowing what happened to them.

"Why are you telling me now?" he asked gently.

"Learning that Sergeant Howlett is a mutant," she replied, "although I've wanted to tell you for months. I still feel guilt for my part in it."

"You didn't make them mutants, you didn't give their mothers serum," he said calmly. "All you did was build the capsules that would extend their lives. Sounds like you cared about the children. HYDRA obviously wanted them for something but didn't want to kill them. Not like Dr. Mengele."

"They weren't found by the 21st century?" she asked.

"No, not that I was aware," he said. "I'll create a file with what you just told me but keep your name out of it. Perhaps, once the war is over the SSR can look for them."

"They won't treat them as freaks or try to use them?"

"No, I'll make sure they get to be children. I promise." He slid closer and put his arm around her shoulder drawing her closer. "Thank you for trusting me with this. It must have eaten away at you."

"I was certain you would detest me for my part in it." She turned to him. "I like you, very much. I never thought I would ever find someone that made me feel what you do."

He smiled at her, looking softly at her eyes then her lips. "I wasn't looking either," he said. "But here we are, sitting on a bench overlooking a beautiful scene and you've just trusted me with your deepest secret. You do trust me, don't you?"

"Very much," she replied. "You're a man of great convictions, coming back to save a friend but I suspect you've done more. Tell me, when you came back did you intend to intervene in the fate of the Jews and Romani at Auschwitz?"

"No, not originally, as I was told I wasn't allowed," he admitted. "There were a lot of things I was told I couldn't do but when I did them nothing changed, other than what happened in my timeline didn't happen in this one because I changed it. I apparently came back in many different timelines because I didn't change anything, and the cycle kept repeating. This time, it hit me that I had to stop playing a rigged game and create my own rules. I was tired of the fight in the 21st century; what we went through wore me down and a lot of it stemmed from things that happened now in this decade. If what I do here and now changes that future for this world, then it will be worth it." He looked out over the valley. "If I have someone at my side, someone I love, that will be worth the fight as well."

He turned back to her then, noticing her light brown, almost blonde hair, and her fine features. She was beautiful and had already been through so much. Perhaps she needed someone to believe in her.

"There was no one in the 21st century that you loved?" she asked, looking at him, then his lips.

"No, not really, not like how I feel right now."

Their kiss started out soft, as they tentatively touched their lips together, then it deepened as they opened themselves more to each other. Her hand went to his cheek then around to the back of his head. When it finished, they touched their foreheads together, both of them a little breathless. They walked back to the canteen, as Eva told him she promised to bring Lt. Hay a coffee. Then he walked her to the infirmary and kissed her again, before opening the door to the building for her. Steven returned to his office feeling almost giddy. Eva returned to the infirmary and handed the Lieutenant her coffee with a smile.

"You're in a good mood," said the nurse, sipping her coffee. "Anything happen?"

"Other than unburdening my soul?" Eva thought as she sipped her own coffee. "I had a good talk with Special Agent Grant. He helped me deal with some things that had been bothering me." She gestured to their two patients, the cloth panel between their beds removed. "How are they?"

"Good," said the Lieutenant. "I think they'll be okay."

With a smile Eva sat at the desk and began writing up the treatment of the two men. Noting the quick healing factor of Howlett she didn't put down his mutant abilities, knowing that if certain other agencies learned of him, they might be inclined to come calling. In the morning, Barnes' injuries would be assessed to see if he could be discharged. She suspected that he would be as his own healing abilities had increased remarkably since even her stay began at the base. It really was incredible what the serum did to the human body.

Chapter Text

December 1944

The file sat on Steven Grant's desk, the final page with the words, Daniel Jordan Sousa, date of death 07-22-1955, staring at him. What was he going to do? He had promised to give the man his SHIELD file from the future, letting him be in control of his own destiny, just as he had told the man he was sending him back to the 28th Infantry Regiment, his old unit. Yet, something in Grant's conscience didn't want to do that, didn't want to send the man to a situation where he would lose his leg. Even though Sousa survived the wound that took his leg, and rarely let it affect his work after, it always marked him as being "less than," and Grant knew how that felt having grown up feeling that every day until the moment he stepped out of the chamber in the lab in Brooklyn.

In for a penny, in for a pound. That was the saying. In the 21st century they said it a different way. Going all in. But this was a man whose future was known, a man who made a difference. If Grant interfered with it, even to keep the man whole, was he jeopardizing the good work that Sousa would do? If he got rid of HYDRA the way he planned, then Sousa's future was already different. SHIELD would be a different entity than it was in his time. It would be cleaner, intact, not rotten from the inside out because he wouldn't let it happen. Corporal Rose had also brought up a valid point. Their association was to keep things balanced, kintalo. For every single thing that they changed in this timeline, something in this one had to change in the opposite way, or stay the same, to balance it out. His biggest fear was that if he kept Sousa with the Phantom Patrol, then he might not be able to prevent Bucky's fall, and that had been one of his primary goals right from the start. He closed Sousa's file, staring at the Manila folder.

The knock on his door jamb interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see Sousa waiting. Gesturing to the chair he invited the Lieutenant in. The younger man's eyes noticed the folder and his eyes grew big as he sat.

"Is that it?" he said. "Information from my future?"

"Yeah, it is," replied Grant. "Still debating about whether to give it to you, even though I said I would. We've had a good run of successes, but I worry that our luck will run out. If I give you this, it might be tempting fate to reassert itself. You're too good of a man for that. So, it's your decision whether you want to take the file or leave it. I'm not going to make that choice. It's also your choice whether to stay with us or go back to the 28th."

Sousa nodded and sat back in the chair, his eyes still on the file. He took several deep breaths as he contemplated his decision.

"I'll go back to the 28th," he said. "I'll take the file with me. I know a little about messing with the natural order of things. I have a Bachelor of Arts degree and took some literature courses. Interfering with fate is a common literary theme and it usually comes with a cost. What you've done already has made a difference for so many people. What you want to accomplish in the future is important and I don't want to be an impediment to that. Like you said before, at some point in the future we'll meet again and we'll either have a drink together or I'll punch you. I accept whatever is to come for me and will hold no grudge against you if things don't go my way."

He stood up, drawing himself up to his full height, then saluted Grant, who returned the salute. Next, he offered his hand to the superior officer, and the two men shook hands. Reaching for the folder, Sousa picked it up and tucked it under his arm.

"It's been a privilege, Steven," he said. "You are a superior officer and a true gentleman."

"The privilege was mine, Daniel," replied Grant. "Your travel orders are at the secretary's desk. Good luck."

It was done, the decision made, and Daniel Sousa's life would either follow the same trajectory it did before, or it wouldn't. Either way, it was his life to live, the decisions would be his. It felt like a big weight was lifted from Steven's shoulders and he sat back, tossing his pen on the other paperwork that lay on his desk. There was nothing there that couldn't wait for a short time. Standing up, the special agent took his overcoat from the coat rack and put it on, stepping out into the blustery winter day at the base. Checking his watch, he headed towards the infirmary, but Eva wasn't there, having gone over to the lab. He walked over there, dodging a couple of snowballs that missed their original targets.

"Sorry sir!"

A young soldier apologized for almost hitting him, and for a moment Grant thought it was Peter Parker, doing a double take then breathing again when he saw it wasn't the young Avenger.

"No problem," he answered, as he stopped. "What's your name, soldier? You're new here?"

"Fitzpatrick, sir," he replied, approaching. "William Fitzpatrick, Private. Just arrived yesterday but couldn't resist the snow. Reminded me of home."

"Where's that, Fitzpatrick?" asked Grant, still feeling like he knew this young soldier.

"Queens. You're from Brooklyn, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess enough of my accent comes out from time to time." Grant smiled. "You remind me of another young man I knew from Queens."

"Yeah? What's his name? Maybe I know him."

"Parker, Peter Parker," said the older man. "He'd be in college now. What unit are you with?" The young man showed him his shoulder patch. "101st Airborne. Tough unit."

"It was hard but I'm ready to get my hands dirty," smiled the young man. "Have you seen much action?"

"A fair share," admitted Grant. "I'm with the Phantom Patrol, so I go where the larger units don't."

The young man's eyes grew large. "Wow! I've heard a little about your unit, even though we're told not to talk about you. Loose lips and all that. You're legends, along with the Howling Commandos."

"I guess," he replied, blushing a little. "Well, Fitzpatrick. I'm looking for someone and I better get back on the hunt. When you get over to Europe, do me a favour. It's okay to be afraid but trust your squad to watch your six, like you watch theirs. Keep your head down and your wits about you. If you can do that you'll come out of this okay."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," said the young man. He leaned forward. "If you're not in uniform, am I supposed to salute you?"

Grant grinned as the similarities with Parker were so evident. This Fitzpatrick had to be Peter's grandfather, maybe even his great grandfather. He just had to be.

"No, I don't wear a uniform even though I have a rank," he said. "Officially, I'm a Major, but I go by Special Agent Grant. I will shake your hand, though."

Fitzpatrick stuck his out there and the two men shook hands. With a wave, Grant kept on towards the lab while the young man, barely out of high school, watched him leave. The other soldier in the snowball fight came up to him and watched Grant.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"A legend," said Fitzpatrick. "I just shook hands with Captain America's older brother."

Grant almost stopped dead in his tracks as he heard that comment just before he entered the lab. As rumours went there were worse things that could be said about him. With a grin he entered the lab, stopping when he saw Eva as she and Dr. Erskine were both looking at a vial of blue serum. They heard him come in and both of them greeted him with a smile.

"Steven," smiled Dr. Erskine. "What good timing. I think we've done it." He held up the vial. "The first one. More will be ready within weeks, but this one vial appears to match the formula that worked on young Steve."

"That's great news," he said. "You have a secure place to store it?"

"Yes, very secure," answered the older doctor. "Only you know about it, other than us. I will inform General Phillips when he returns to the base, as well as Captain Rogers. Once we get the other vials synthesized, we can test the four pilots if they agree. If it boosts their powers, then we can offer it to Corporal Bradley and Sergeant Barnes to stabilize their transformation."

"We wanted a serum that works without the radiation," said Eva. "It is easier on the body and less frightening a process."

"Probably a good idea," he agreed. "Dr. Erskine, may I have a private moment with Dr. Waslewski?"

The older man smiled as he saw the way the two looked at each other. It was well known they were involved but it had been kept very private and low key since June, when it began.

"Ja, of course," he said. "I'm going to put this in the vault."

They watched him go to the vault that was attached to the lab, dialing the combination on two separate dials then pulling on the handle, opening it. The vault, built with the input of expert safecracker Private Benjamin Rumlow was almost guaranteed 100% secure. Almost, because Rumlow said guys like him were always looking for ways to crack safes like this. As Erskine disappeared inside the couple kissed and hugged.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Lt. Sousa is going back to the 28th," said Grant. "He took the file with him. I didn't touch it, made it his decision. Whatever happens to him now is supposed to happen."

"That's good," she said. "I hope he comes through it okay. Howard Stark is supposed to be arriving soon. We received word this morning." Grant made a face. "You don't like him?"

"I'm biased against him," he explained. "In my time, and still in this time, he's preoccupied with hitting on women, making a dollar, and coming up with incredible inventions. I was friends with his son in the future and Howard wasn't the best father. From what I hear his own father was quite the bastard. Sorry, language. Tony was much like him in many ways but softened when he had his own daughter."

"So, I should be on my guard, is that what you're saying?" She smiled as he put his arms around her.

"You're much too old for him," grinned Steve, cringing when she hit him lightly on the arm. "Not for me. For me, you're perfect."

"There you are," said a voice and they both turned to see Howlett entering the lab. "Just got word from the partisans. They located that lab in Croatia. It's near Zagreb and they're using Romani as test subjects. Should I call our squad together?"

"Yes," answered Grant. "I'll be right there." He looked apologetically at Eva. "Sorry, about this evening."

"Never apologize for doing what is right," she said. "Good luck, darling."

"I'll see you soon, sweetheart," he replied, kissing her firmly, before running out of the lab.

They didn't see each other for another two weeks, as the lab was so well hidden and heavily guarded that it took them forever to hike in and infiltrate it. After freeing the prisoners being used as test subjects, they placed the demolition charges and buried the lab under the side of the mountain it was built into. When the Phantom Patrol returned on December 23rd so had the Howling Commandos from their extended mission.

Christmas was quite the raucous affair, full of laughter, music and dancing. Stark, who didn't make a pass at Dr. Waslewski, came and went, pleased that the serum had been successfully synthesized. After hanging out for Christmas dinner he flew back to New York. There was a dance after Christmas in the nearby town that many of the unattached men went to. Although Bucky went, he only danced a few times with several different women, returning back to the base after as he was still affected by the death of Vera Boswick. He had become friends with Lt. Hay, but her fiancé had leave so she went to London to be with him. A package was on his bunk when he walked in the barracks.

"They were late in being delivered," said Howlett, sitting on his bed, playing cards with Dum Dum and Bradley while they ate cookies. "Dugan's wife sent a whole bunch of baking."

"And pictures of the kids," said the big man. "My daughter Bridget is a real beauty. Dark haired and green eyed like her mam. I'm going to have beat off the boys when she gets older."

"It's from my family," said Bucky, picking up the package and pulling his pen knife out to cut the string.

He cut through the sticky tape under the brown paper and opened the box, taking a tin out and opening it to reveal clumps of cake that had fallen apart in transport. He still picked up a piece and tasted it, nodding his head at the flavour. There were cookies, fudge, and small popcorn balls with colored bits of dried fruit in them. Bucky grimaced as they were rock hard. It was the thought that counted. There were also half a dozen pairs of socks, clean underwear, several pairs of winter gloves, and handkerchiefs. At the bottom was a photograph of his parents and his sister, then a Christmas card with a letter in it. He looked at the card, smiling at the scene then opened the letter and began to read it. The other soldiers watched as he read, seeing the play of emotions over the younger man's face.

"Everything okay?" asked Bradley.

"Yeah," smiled Bucky. "One of my old girlfriends, Connie, got married, to a guy who was 4F, bad eyesight and asthma. Other than that, it's a list of who's MIA, who's KIA, and who's expecting a baby, even though their husband is over here." He sighed. "Life goes on over there and I miss it. I feel like my whole life is on hold because of this war."

"You gotta have a plan, Bucky," said Dum Dum. "You're young enough to go to school on the GI Bill when you get back. With all the extra training and advanced math and physics you took to become a sniper you could handle college easily."

"I suppose," said Bucky. "I wanted to go to college before the war but didn't have the dough. Part of me wants to open a garage as I like working on motors. Kept old Betsy running, didn't I?"

The other three men smiled. Bucky's work on the beat-up motorcycle was a source of discussion with a lot of them. The motor pool wanted to use her for parts, but Bucky wouldn't give her up, saying he could keep her going. It took Special Agent Grant's intervention to keep their motor pool sergeant at bay as he wanted to repossess the old motorcycle. Apparently, he was getting heat from the officer at HQ in charge of the motor pools at the nearby bases.

"Excuse me, Sergeant Howlett?" All four men looked at the private in the barracks doorway. "Is Special Agent Grant around?"

"He's out for the evening," said Howlett.

"There's a message for him, marked Urgent but not Secret," said the young private who worked in the communications hut. "They're waiting for an answer."

Bucky looked at Howlett. Now that Sousa was gone, he was next in the chain of command for the Phantom Patrol.

"Give it to me," said the older Sergeant, extending his hand. The private gave him the slip of paper and waited. Opening it he read the note, his face grim. "Lt. Sousa is MIA. The siege on the 101st Airborne was just broken but the 28th Infantry is scattered, and they don't where he is." He looked at the private. "Acknowledge receipt and tell them a reply will come as soon as possible."

He got up and reached into his locker for more clothing.

"Where are you going?" asked Bucky.

"Grant and Dr. Waslewski went to the Cotswolds," said Howlett. "I have a phone number, but I'll have to use a public phone off the base, so I don't go through the base exchange. He ... doesn't want any gossip going around about her."

"Wait," said Bucky. "I know one of the operators. If she's on duty I can keep her occupied while you make your call. What's the number?"

Howlett gave it to him, and Bucky headed over to the switchboard office with Dum Dum while Bradley stayed behind. When Bucky looked inside in the small room, he saw it was the woman he knew. Signalling Dum Dum, he stepped inside the office and loudly entered.

"You are on duty!" he exclaimed as he stood next to the switchboard where Private May Dyson was on duty. "Damn, here I thought I would just confirm you were free and ask if you wanted to go for a drink."

"Bucky," said May, taking her headset off. "I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you doing?" The sound of a ring interrupted them, and she put her headset on. "Number please." She repeated it to the caller. "Hold on and I'll connect you to the local exchange." She waited for it to be picked up then connected the two lines and took her headset off, looking up at the handsome Sergeant, glad to see he was getting back into circulation. "Now where were we?"

He sat on the edge of the desk, close enough for her to feel like all of his attention was on her. Lazily, he picked up her hand, stroking the fingers gently.

"Well, I was hoping to have a Christmas drink with you," he said. "What time are you off duty?"

"Not until morning," she said, slowly pulling her hand out of his. "Then I'm on leave. Some of us are going to London. You're on leave, aren't you? The Howling Commandos only got back the other day."

"I'd love to spend a few days in London with you but we're training for another mission all this coming week until the New Year," he said, trying to inject a level of disappointment into his voice. "Maybe we can arrange something for after that mission. Sorry, doll."

She pouted then smiled when Dum Dum appeared.

"Sarge, that intelligence came in on the next mission," he said, nodding at the young woman before placing his attention back on Bucky. "Private Dyson. Sergeant Howlett figured you'd want to go over it with him."

"Duty calls," said Bucky, picking her hand up again and kissing the knuckle. "Have a great time in London, May. Good hunting. Maybe you'll find a rich baron looking for a cute wife."

She laughed then picked up her headset, hoping to listen in on the rest of the conversation on the last call she connected. Recognizing it as a Cotswold exchange, she knew several officers liked to take their girlfriends to swanky little hotels there, out of reach of their jobs and their wives. Unfortunately, whoever placed the call had already disconnected and she pulled the plugs out. Maybe next time she wouldn't be interrupted.

It was several days later, after Grant returned, that he received an update from a captain in the 101st Airborne that they went looking for survivors near Bastogne in an area that had been held by the enemy. They found Lt. Sousa, with a severe leg injury that required surgery along with an injured Sgt. Stephens, shot several times. Both men were expected to live, although Sousa's injury was enough to ship him home. He would keep his leg.

January 1945

On New Year's Day they received word from the Resistance in Austria that a HYDRA train, known to be used in transporting Dr. Arnim Zola and equipment between bases had been seen speeding from a base in Austria towards the Balkans, presumably to pick up the doctor to return him. As they set up a zip line over the most accessible part of the route the Howling Commandos were airlifted to the closest drop point near that spot. Three of them would take the zip line down to the travelling train during a very narrow 10 second window when it was passing by. There wasn't time for any others to take the trip. Cap, Jones, and Falsworth were chosen for the mission. The rest of the squad, once the three were safely on the train, would be transported to a rendezvous point further along the line.

Cap went first, followed immediately by Jones. Falsworth grasped the handle on the pulley and just as he jumped lost his grip, causing him to fall at the precipice they were on, desperately hanging on to the rocky edge. Before anyone could say anything, Bucky leaped for the handle of the pulley before it moved any further away from them, rocketing down the zip line, landing on the train just before the end of the last car. As the others helped Falsworth climb back up to safety Morita turned the radio to an emergency frequency and sent a coded message that three of the Commandos had made it onto the train, Dancing Monkey, Black Beauty, and Blue Boxer. A message was received immediately by him asking for confirmation and he sent it, knowing that Bucky was never supposed to be on the train. They packed up the radio and hiked down to where the partisans had a truck to begin the journey towards a bridge where they would rendezvous with the hijacked train.

As Bucky landed on the last train car, he released the handle and stepped quickly onto the moving train. Catching up to the other two he knew that Steve would be angry, but he also knew there was no one else that could have reacted as quickly as he could. As Steve turned around and saw him, he yelled at his friend.

"Where's Falsworth?"

"Lost his grip," Bucky yelled back. "I just made it in time." Steve glared at him. "I know, I know but what else could I do? You need three for this."

"You stay with me," demanded Steve. "No going off on your own!"

Bucky shrugged, knowing what could happen but not wanting to think of it. As Gabe continued on top towards the front of the train Steve and Bucky got inside at the nearest door. They entered the dark interior of the steel walled car and began walking towards the cab of the train, both of them alert to the sounds of anyone approaching from from in front or behind them. A sound from behind made Bucky hesitate while Steve was still advancing. Suddenly, a barrier closed between them, separating them from each other. HYDRA soldiers appeared from the end of each car, opening fire on the two soldiers. Bucky took cover from the two firing on him while Steve advanced on the enemy soldier in his car, deflecting the blue pulses firing from the enemy's gun with his shield before knocking the man down. Using the HYDRA weapon to blow a hole in the end of his car he ran back to get the door open in order to help Bucky who was still taking fire from one of the enemy soldiers. Seeing that his friend was out of bullets Steve opened the door, tossed Bucky his pistol and jumped in, drawing the enemy into a position where Bucky could fire on him.

"That was close," said Bucky.

"You think?"

Steve patted his friend on the shoulder then began moving towards the opening again. Suddenly, the man that Steve had knocked down in the other car appeared in the doorway, charging his weapon up. Pushing Bucky aside, Steve took the force of the pulse on his shield, deflecting it into the side of the car where it blew a hole through the metal like it was paper. Bucky picked up the shield as Steve lay dazed on the other side of the car. Firing at the enemy soldier while holding the shield for protection, Bucky emptied the chamber then was hit by another blue pulse which knocked him out the hole in the side of the train.

"Bucky!" Steve screamed, then in a fury ran at the HYDRA soldier while throwing the shield at him, knocking him out.

Getting back to the hole he looked out, remembering what Steven Grant told him of how his Bucky held on to a handle on the panel that was still attached to the outside of the train. But when he looked Bucky wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. The handle was still on the side of the car, intact.

"FUCK!"

He screamed it over and over, blaming himself. Then he was filled with a fury that he had never felt before and picked up his shield. Advancing towards the front of the train he beat down any enemy soldier that appeared in his path, not caring if they lived or died. They were just obstacles in his way towards the cab, to where the man who had hurt his friend was. Zola would pay.

By the time he entered the cab, Gabe had the train's engineer and Dr. Zola under guard. Without hesitating Steve walked over and hit the diminutive doctor. Standing over him as Zola bled on the floor of the cab from a cut on his head, Steve was tempted to finish the job.

"Where's Sarge?" asked Gabe. "Cap? Where's Sarge?"

"Gone," was the reply. He looked at the engineer. "Stop the train at the next bridge crossing or so help me God, I will splatter your brains over the inside of this cab." Zola started to say something, and Steve picked the man up by his collar. "Shut your fucking mouth, you HYDRA worm."

Five minutes later the engineer slowed the train down then stopped it where the bridge passed over a road. They waited for a signal from the Commandos then ordered the engineer and Zola out of the cab. When they got to the truck, the others looked fearfully at their Captain.

"Send the signal that we have Zola and an engineer. Tell them Blue Boxer fell. It's up to the Patrol now."

At an American held airfield near Rome, Italy, Steven Grant waited at the communications hut for the next coded message. Even though he had ordered Bucky to stay off the train, making sure that Steve Rogers knew what could happen if his friend boarded, he had feared this day. The Ancient One had said that his early arrival would change things and he had worried that it meant Bucky would still fall, despite all of his efforts. Convincing General Phillips that it would be prudent to be on standby in Italy he and his squad had flown there as soon as the Howling Commandos were on their way to Austria. When it turned out that his fears were realized by the decoded message saying Blue Boxer fell, it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, just by what was written on that slip of paper. He stepped out to where Howlett was waiting in a Jeep.

"Airfield," he said tersely. "We have an air drop into a narrow chasm in Austria. Two days is all we have to get to him. If we don't find him in that time HYDRA will find him and they will take him to finish the job."

The Sergeant said nothing, just drove as quickly as he could to where their aircraft was. The rest of the squad was waiting for him, having spent the time loading supplies onto the aircraft. When the Jeep got close, they began entering the aircraft, not waiting for the order. The pilots, Murphy and Costello, had the engines started within seconds. As soon as the door was closed, they began taxiing to the runway and then took off for the planned four-hour flight, to be followed by a parachute drop into enemy held territory, then letting the aircraft crash as both pilots were jumping as well to boost their contingent.

During the flight little was said while Grant and Howlett pinpointed their drop target. An hour away from the drop everyone was told to gear up. Grant spared no detail as he told them where they were going and what they were doing. They could expect to fight their way in to where Sergeant Barnes fell and to fight their way out towards Italy, to an enemy airfield near Trieste where they would steal an airplane and fly to Rome. It would take four days if all went well, longer if it didn't. After he briefed them, Grant felt inside his combat gear for the small box he had in an inside pocket. It was the single vial of serum. Although he knew that Bucky would likely survive the fall, he also knew the HYDRA serum was imperfect. There was no telling if he actually would survive the journey to safety, especially now that this timeline had changed. The vial would buy him time until they could get him to Rome. When the pilots found the landmarks ahead where it was believed Bucky had fallen Grant tapped their shoulders. He took over the controls while they got their parachutes on. The order was given for the squad to drop, then Howlett came for him, helping him tie off the controls. Both men made their way to the back of the airplane and jumped out the back door into mountains. Minutes later, the aircraft was destroyed as it crashed into the rocky face of a mountain in the Alps.

Chapter Text

He woke with a start, aware of several things; he hurt everywhere, he was cold as hell, and the brightness of the snow was too much to bear.  Closing his eyes to deal with that Bucky breathed then opened his eyes again and looked up at the wall of mountain that surrounded him.  There was the sound of water rushing nearby but when he tried to turn his head to see where it was the pain made him cry out.

"Fuck!"

He tried to move his legs, but they didn't respond, even though he could feel them.  Then he tried to raise his right arm, managing only an inch or two before the pain was too much to deal with.  There was no response from his left arm at all, no feeling of any kind below his elbow.  Slowly, he turned his head to look at his left arm, far enough until he could bear the pain then continuing on trying after several torturous breaths to bring his arm into view.  When he saw the red stained snow, he stopped and put his head back.  It was bad, really bad.

Above him the snow swirled lazily, as the wind gusts blew the light snowfall around.  He tried to see the railway tracks but everything up there was blurry, and he gave up trying to estimate how far he fell.  Then he remembered being blown out the side of the train, and falling, while hitting rocky outcrops, hearing his bones crack, then break as he tried and failed to grasp anything he could hold on onto.  It could be worse.

"No, this is pretty bad," he thought to himself.  "You'll come for me, Steven, won't you?"

Eventually, he passed out then woke up when an explosion sound reverberated off of the mountains.  He could feel the vibrations of the echoes in his chest, but he had no way of determining what made the noise or where it originated from.  Taking stock of himself he tried to raise his head, then his arms but it still hurt like hell.  This time he was able to see his left arm, or what was left of it.  The bleeding had stopped but he could see the bone sticking out and stifled a sob that came out of his throat.  He'd really done it this time.  Aware of hot tears dripping down his face and freezing on his skin he talked to himself, trying to stop crying.  Eventually, he got control of his emotions and took still painful but deep breaths, then looked up at the sky.  It was dimmer down here in the shadows and colder.  But far above, where the peaks of the mountains were still visible, he could see the sun lighting up the snow caps of the Austrian Alps.   It was still day, and he was still alive.  If they were on their way for him all he had to do was stay that way.

It was night when he woke again and the quarter moon was high overhead, its glow still bright enough to make the snow around him gleam in the dark.  He was so cold and tried to clench his fist on his right hand, trying to gauge whether he still had feeling in his fingers.  It was numb and the movement of trying to make a fist was difficult as he couldn't really feel his fingers other than a sense of pressure as he clenched them.  Wiggling his toes was painful but at least that indicated he still had feeling there.  Then he looked to the side with his head, noting it wasn't as hard now, but was startled to see eyes watching him.  Blinking his own eyes several times he tried to focus on whether it was a person or an animal, but he couldn't tell.  All he could see was the eyes.  Then the eyes drew closer, and he reached with his numb hand for his pistol, hoping it was still in his holster, suddenly remembering that he had thrown it away as he had emptied it against the HYDRA soldiers on the train.

"Shit," he muttered.

As the eyes came closer, he saw they were attached to an animal, a wolf, and a flash of fear filled his belly.

"Steady," he thought.  "You can do it.  You can take him out.  Just stay calm and breathe."

As the wolf approached, he could see the moisture from its breath condensing in the frigid air as it slowly came closer.  A low growl emanated from its throat as it began its preparation to attack.  Never taking his eyes away from it he placed his right hand on his chest, preparing himself to take the creature by the neck and hope that he had enough strength left in him to crush the life out of it.  There would be only one chance and it had to be timed for exactly the moment the wolf attacked.  When it did finally make its move Bucky grasped it under the jaw, feeling the trachea right there under his clenched hand.  The wolf snarled and snapped at him, trying to get to his neck and tear it apart but he used all of his energy keeping it as far away from his throat as possible, while squeezing the animal's throat, willing himself to take its life.  When his fingers dug deep enough into the animal's flesh for him to actually feel the ridges of the trachea, it began to whine and struggle to get away, but Bucky didn't let go until it ceased its efforts and slumped.  Only then did he stop and allow the weight of the dead creature to fall on him.  As warm blood trickled out of where his fingers had torn into the wolf's throat, he let the heat of the liquid warm his fingers then his hand, tearing into its fur so that he could bury it in the still warm carcass of the once living predator.

As the feeling returned to his fingers and hand, so did the pain but he ignored it, and instead withdrew his hand and placed his fingers in his mouth, licking the warm blood from them.  At first, he gagged on the taste, but he stifled the instinct, knowing that if he could keep his body temperature warm it would increase his chances of survival.  He had no doubt the others were on their way, trusting that Grant was already in an aircraft, using his own memories of where his Bucky fell to parachute into the narrow chasm.  Whether they would get there before the enemy did was another matter, one that he wouldn't think about.  Returning his hand into the body of the wolf he let the blood pool on it then brought it back to his lips, licking the warm liquid until it was too cold to give him any benefit.  Then, with as much strength as he could muster, he dragged the body of the dead animal onto his own body, hoping the fur would add another layer of insulation that would protect him from the bitter cold.  By the time he felt he was covered he was also exhausted at the effort.  The thought occurred to him that he had done more damage to his right arm as he could feel the bones grinding against each other during the struggle with the wolf, and while moving the body.  Yet, somehow, he had managed to hold off the attack of a wolf with just one arm, a broken one at that.  For this time, he was thankful for the serum that gave him the strength.  But now he was so tired that it wasn't long before he slept once again.

"Bucky? Love?"

"What darlin'?" He could feel Vera's body pressed up against his in her bed, her hand tracing circles on his chest as they both caught their breath after the energetic lovemaking they had just engaged in.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No, you never hurt me, Bucky," she answered.

She was quiet and he shifted so that he was facing her, noticing by her breathing in the dark room that she was trying not to cry.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.  "You can tell me anything, you know."

"Do you love me?"

He breathed out noticeably, trying not to upset her.  "We talked about this Vera," he said gently.  "I like you; I really do but I don't love you.  This, what we have, is just fun."

"I know.  Just forget I said anything."

"Vera, talk to me.  Why did you ask me that?"

"I just ....  I heard another of my girlfriends got herself engaged to a Yank, a pilot," she said.  "They only knew each other a few weeks and they're getting married in a month."

She rolled away from Bucky, covering her face with her hands.  Gently, he pulled her back towards him, as he spooned behind her, covering her with his arms.  Kissing her on the back of her shoulder a few times made her relax slightly then he rested his chin on her soft skin.

"My job is dangerous," he explained.  "I can't even really tell you about it because it's classified.  I wish I did love you enough to ask you to marry me because you're an incredible girl, Vera.  But the chances of me not coming back are high and I wouldn't want you to go through that pain.  That would be cruel."

"What about after the war?" she asked.  "If you make it through, would you think differently about me?"

"Honestly, I don't know," he admitted.  "I'm being truthful here, because I think you deserve that.  Just like I was truthful that I see other women.  I never made that a secret."

"That's true," she sighed.  "I just worry that maybe the right bloke is out there for me and because I'm waiting on you, I'm missing out."

"Then you shouldn't wait on me, Vera," said Bucky.  "I like your company, but you know that if you do meet the right guy that I won't stand in your way.  He'll be a lucky man to get your love."  He could feel all the emotions going through her body at that moment and waited before he said his next words.  "Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes," she whispered.  "I think we should stop seeing each other."

"Alright."  He got up and dressed in the dark, then came around to the other side of the bed, kneeling down in front of her.  "I'm sorry.  I will miss you.  You are lovely."

"Just not enough to love," she answered bitterly, then rolled away from him.

He touched her shoulder then went to her bedroom door and silently opened it, stepping out onto the landing.  She shared a house with four other girls, and he didn't want to wake them, not wanting to add to Vera's woes.  Quietly, he opened the front door and stepped out into the cool May night.  Looking up at the window to Vera's bedroom he grimaced sadly then began the walk back to the base.

"Vera," he said out loud, opening his eyes.

It was morning, he thought, but he couldn't tell for sure because it was snowing, and the mountain peaks that were visible yesterday were now obscured.  He thought back to the dream he just had, where Vera told him she didn't want to see him anymore.  Two days later he was on his way to France for D-Day.  When he got back it was in the middle of HYDRAs infiltration of the base.  Hours later he learned that Vera was dead.  He never had a chance to find out how she was, or whether she was alright, and he wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself for that.  Why couldn't he have lied and said he could consider being more to her than just using her for a good time?  What was wrong with him that he was like this, unable to actually love someone the way they wanted?  A sob erupted from him, surprising him with how loud it sounded in the chasm where the falling snow seemed to make everything seem quiet.  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to will his mind away from thinking about Vera, but it was no good.  He had visions of her trying to attack the false MP with a knife, of him turning back and grasping her neck roughly, then ....

"I'm sorry," he whispered then he spoke it over and over again, louder and louder, until it became a scream of fury, hoping that somewhere she heard him and would forgive him.

His anger at the violence inflicted on Vera seared his mind and he howled in frustration when he realized that he hadn't even found out which of the false MPs they took prisoner had been the one who took her life.  No doubt the others had kept that from him, because he would have gone into the man's cell to make him pay for his crime.

"No, you wouldn't," said a voice, out of nowhere.  Bucky looked everywhere for the person who just said it, ready to give them a piece of his mind.  "You're a coward.  Too afraid to love.  Too wrapped up in your own pleasure to do right by that girl.  If you were a real man, you would have gone yourself and found out which of those monsters was the one.  Then you would have given him double, no triple the pain he gave Vera, killing him slowly so that his HYDRA brain would know that there are worse things than death."

"Stop it," said Bucky.  "Whoever you are, stop talking to me.  I'm not a coward.  I'm not a killer, not like that."

The laugh interrupted him. "Not a killer?  It's exactly what you are, exactly what the army made you.  All that extra sniper training they gave you, so you can just calmly line up your victims in your sights, pull the trigger and watch them fall, then move on to the next one." There was no voice for a bit; and the only sound was that of the heavy snow landing on the ground around him, reminding him of the beginning of a heavy rainstorm in the summer, when the first fat drops would hit the bone-dry pavement, which had baked under the hot sun. "This is your punishment.  It always was meant to be like this.  Your friends can't help you now.  Better to let go before the others find you."

"No," replied the wounded soldier.  "They're coming for me.  Steven Grant came back for me just so HYDRA wouldn't get me.  He'll come ... he has to come."

The seed of despair, now planted in Bucky's mind, sprouted, taking root in his thoughts, like a weed left unchecked.  The tendrils of anguish, that despite everything that had been done to keep him out of the HYDRA factory and the first rounds of serum treatment, then disobeying the direct order from a superior officer to stay off the trains, his failure to keep Vera safe, were all proof that he wasn't a good man.  A good man wouldn't have had this happen to him, would have died first before letting that little monster inject him with the serum, would have fought back more when they strapped him down on that table and placed that machine on his head.  A good man would have taken the scalpels they cut his skin with when they wanted to see how fast the cut would heal and ... wait, where did that memory come from?

"NO!" He screamed out loud.  "What did you do to me?"

More memories came pouring back into his mind; horrible, terrible memories of things the guards at the factory did to him, things they made him do, laughing and jeering at him while he desperately tried to stop their twisted games of torture.  The sound of the stun batons they used to beat him down into the floor rang in his ears, but he couldn't stop it, couldn't stop any of it as it overwhelmed him, drowning him until he had only one thought.

"Let me die.  Please God, just let me die.  End this."

~~~~~~~~

"Did you hear that?" asked Grant, to Howlett, who didn't answer.  "A scream."  He pulled his sleeve up, revealing his watch and checking the time.  "They can't be there already."

Bradley approached and spoke, as did Murphy and Costello.  "You heard that right?"

"He's close but it can't be the time when they found him," said Grant.  "It's too soon."

"That's the sound of a man who wants to die," said Bradley, looking out over the snow in the direction they were moving.  "He's given up."  Grant made eye contact with him.  "I made that sound when I was in solitary and realized I was never going to see daylight again."

"Hey!" They all looked back towards Raines and Rumlow, who were just catching up.  "Voice sounds behind us.  A mile away, maybe more, but it sounds like a full squad."

"Bradley, you're with me," said Grant.  "The rest of you cover us.  Do what you have to, but they don't get to Bucky first, understood?  Give us the collapsible stretcher and the splints.  Quick!"

Rumlow pulled off the backpack he wore that carried the portable stretcher, an invention of Howard Stark's after Grant described a future version to him, handing it to Bradley.  The splints, inside a canvas bag strapped to the stretcher, were made of corrugated cardboard, meant for quick stabilization and transport, enough to protect the patient from further injury.  The lightweight creased sheets, compared to similar splints made of wood were meant for use in difficult terrain as they were lighter to carry.  It was still going to be painful for Bucky, but it was what they had to work with.  Raines gave the medic's kit to Grant.  Leaving Howlett to organize the rear defence Grant and Bradley plowed through the deep snow, towards the spot they estimated Bucky had fallen.  Cursing the amount of snow that was obviously freshly fallen and the blowing snow that reduced visibility the two men searched continually ahead of them for any sign of an injured man.  It was some time before Bradley nudged Grant and pointed near the edge of a ridge that overlooked the river below.  An unnatural looking shape lay there.

"I think that's him," he said.  "I can just barely hear breath sounds coming from it."

Grant calmed himself to hear them then hurried towards the shape covered in snow, after confirming the sounds.  Brushing the mound off they were both surprised to see the frozen remains of a wolf, atop an unconscious and bloody Bucky.  For a moment Grant was furious, wanting to shake the young man for his recklessness, but he stilled his emotions and began rousing the young sergeant while Bradley carefully peeled away the carcass of the dead creature, which was difficult as the blood had frozen it to Bucky's clothes.

"Bucky," said Grant, placing his palms on the frostbitten cheeks of the injured man.  "Talk to me."  He looked back at Bradley.  "He's almost frozen."

Moans were the only answer he received from Bucky as he pulled his one glove off and put it on Bucky's stiff right hand, hoping there was enough residual heat to start warming him.  The dead wolf was finally pulled completely away, tossed aside by the corporal like it weighed nothing.  Opening the backpack, Bradley took out the stretcher and assembled it, making sure all of the fittings were tight.

"Is he frozen to the ground?" he asked Grant.  "We should get the splints on after we transfer him to the stretcher but if he's still frozen to the ground, we might have to use the bayonets to pry him off."

Behind them, they heard the sounds of rifle fire and they both glanced in the same direction.  Yes, they were in a hurry, but they also had to get this right the first time.  Pulling his bayonet off his rifle, Grant gingerly slid it under Bucky, trying to slide it into the snow so that he didn't snag his clothes.  Bradley did the same starting on the other side.  Both men worked their way down from the shoulders, with Grant grimacing at what was left of Bucky's left arm.  They continued on towards Bucky's feet, then Bradley aligned the stretcher next to his body.  On the count of three they lifted him onto it.  One leg was still stuck in the snow and bent awkwardly, causing a cry of pain from Bucky that roused him.  He began panicking, flailing with his right arm until Grant trapped it on Bucky's chest.

"Stop, it's us," he said calmly.  "We're here."

"Steve?" Bucky's voice rasped.  "Thirsty."

Bradley put his hand on his canteen, prepared to give some water to the injured soldier.  Grant nodded his permission.

"Just a little to wet his mouth," he said then looked back at the young soldier.  "I should court-martial you for disobeying a direct order."

Bucky greedily took what he was allowed from the canteen then focused on Grant.  "Sorry, Falsworth fell.  I was closest.  Fucked up."  He closed his eyes and for a moment didn't breathe then he gave a sudden breath.  "Let me go.  Not worth it.  They hurt me, Steve ... horrible, terrible things.  I didn't remember until ....  They broke me, I'm broken."

"You don't get to say that," said Grant, the anger rising in him again.  "God damn it."  His eyes filled with tears then he looked at Bucky, the anger visible on his face.  "Decide right now.  Do you want to live, or do you want to die?  I can end it for you, right now."  He placed his hand on Bucky's throat, prompting a reaction from Bradley but Grant looked at him in a way that said to back off.  "What's it going to be Buck?  You're here because of the choice you made but this time you get to choose what happens next.  I can end your suffering, or I can help you live.  If you live, you get another chance to fight HYDRA for what they did to you.  But it's all on you to deal with the pain if you choose to live.  You hear me?"

He began to squeeze Bucky's throat, crying as he did it, knowing that he didn't come back all this way for it to end like this.  At first Bucky was passive about it then as he realized that Grant was serious, he opened his eyes and raised his right hand, trying to push the older version of his best friend out of the way.

"Stop ... stop."  Weakly, he began hitting Grant in the face.  "Fuck, let go of me.  Let me live.  I'll live."

Dropping his head in relief, Grant let go while breathing heavily.  When he looked at Bucky's face, he was satisfied that this is what his friend wanted; he still had enough fight in him to live.  They made eye contact and although there was anger in Bucky's eyes it was better than seeing the defeat and despair he had earlier.

"We're going to splint you which means we'll have to set your breaks as best we can," said Grant.  "Chances are they'll have to break your bones again when we get to a hospital if they heal wrong.  You're frozen, and once you begin to thaw out it's going hurt like hell.  We'll give you what morphine we have but it might not be enough.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," mumbled Bucky.  "Just do it."

From a pocket in his trousers, Grant pulled out a metal case, taking out a syrette of morphine.  Knowing that Bucky's system would metabolize it quickly he and Bradley assembled the splints first, having them on hand so they could work faster.

"You ready?" He looked at Bucky, who nodded, gritting his teeth.  "Bradley?"  The corporal nodded.  "Alright, this is going to hurt."

As soon as he injected Bucky, they started splinting his legs, straightening them, while grimacing at the sound and feel of broken bones scraping against each other.  They slid the cardboard splints under his limbs and folded them up to cradle his legs, hoping it was enough to keep them immobile.  Bradley had pulled out numerous straps with buckles to fasten the splints in place and they quickly tightened them.  Even though it was still bitterly cold out they could see the sweat forming on Bucky's forehead as he tried not to cry out during the process, the effects of the morphine lasting only minutes.  When the young sergeant cried out in agony, Grant injected him with a second syrette of morphine, then Bradley splinted the right arm while the older man cut away the remains of Bucky's jacket on his left arm.  He winced again at the damage done to the arm and sprinkled sulfanilamide powder on the wound before applying some dressings to cover the stump, knowing that as soon as they got to a warmer location that the bleeding would start again.  To lessen the bleeding, he used one of the straps as a tourniquet over the dressing, buckling it in place as tightly as he could.

"Tie him to the stretcher," said Grant.  "We have to get out of here."

"Grant, he's not breathing," said Bradley, leaning over so his ear was at Bucky's mouth.  "We're too late."

"No, he survived worse in my timeline," said the agent.  He laid his head on Bucky's chest trying to hear his heartbeat.  It took a moment until he finally heard it, but it was slow, dangerously so and even he had trouble hearing Bucky breathe.  Reaching inside his jacket he touched the box that held the serum, and took it out, pulling out the vial, to Bradley's surprise.  "It's the only one but Dr. Erskine said to take it and use it if I had to.  They'll have more soon.  It will buy him time."  He tapped the young sergeant on the cheek again.  "Buck!  I have to give you serum.  Show me you heard that!"

Bucky moaned which Grant decided to take as a yes.  Placing the vial against Bucky's neck he pressed the injector on it and watched as the liquid slowly drained out of the container and into the young man's body.  Leaning over Bucky's face he watched closely for any signs of it working.  There was nothing for several long moments then his eyes opened in a panic.

"Burns," he whined.  "Fuck, it burns."

"I just injected serum into you," said Grant.  "Your heart rate was low, and your breathing was too shallow.  The pain will pass then it will start repairing your body."

"Fucking burns, Steve," mumbled Bucky.  "Fucking serum.  Some friend you are."

Grant looked up at Bradley with a grim grin.  "Well, anger is better than despair."  He stood up and whistled to the others, waving them over.  "Time to go."

As the others made their way through the deep snow Bradley picked up the medical kit and slid the strap over his shoulder crossways.  Murphy and Costello arrived first, each of them taking a handle of the stretcher.  Bradley took another and Grant took the final one.  With Howlett, Rose, Raines and Rumlow covering the rear they pushed forward towards where there should be a way down to the river.  Grant had memorized every geographical detail of the chasm, part of his obsession after the Snap, to truly understand how almost impossible it would have been for him to return to find Bucky then if he had known his friend survived the fall.  The guilt over his failure had lessened once he accepted that Bucky would have already been in the enemy's hands before the Howling Commandos could have launched a search and rescue mission.  As the group waded for several hours through the thigh-deep snow on their downward path, Grant felt a new guilt replace that long standing one.  Despite everything he did since coming back, Bucky still fell, and Grant didn't know if he would ever get over that.

"You know where you're going, right?" asked Murphy.

"Yeah, there's a narrowing of the river and it should be iced over enough for us to cross and go up the other side," replied Grant, shaken from his own thoughts.  "We follow that pass, then another and we should come out somewhere near Trieste."

Murphy looked at Costello, rolling his eyes somewhat.  A gun shot rang out and Murphy turned his head just in time but still felt the bullet whizzing past him.  Howlett raised his rifle and fired off a few shots in the direction the shot came from as the four men carrying the stretcher took cover behind a rocky outcropping.

"How did they get above us?" asked Costello, grasping his rifle as he looked up to the ridge above them.

Howlett stood there for some time, seeming to smell the air.  "This is a different patrol," he said.  "There was no easy way up to that ridge from this level so they must have come from a different direction.  I'm guessing the ones behind us radioed for help before they retreated."  He looked at Grant.  "Bradley and I could probably get up there and take care of them."

Before he was even asked Bradley took the medical kit off, pulled his rifle around and moved closer to Howlett.  With a nod of his head, Grant agreed to let the two men take care of it.  Raines, Rose, and Rumlow looked like they needed a break anyways and he advised everyone to have some of their rations while they could.  Taking the opportunity to check on Bucky, he found him awake with his eyes wide open.

"How are you doing?" he asked, bending over as if to adjust the straps on the stretcher.

"Hurts like hell, but the burning is less," replied the young sergeant, sounding a little better.  He breathed shakily a few times.  "Were you really going to end it for me?"

They made eye contact and Grant saw a lot of different things in Bucky's eyes, anger, pain, and fear, for starters.

"I was angry when I made that offer," he replied.  "Seemed like you had given up."

Bucky's mouth set in a firm line before he answered.  "I did give up.  Had a moment where I doubted, thought I wasn't worth the trouble."

"Well, that would have screwed me over good, wouldn't it?" said Grant facetiously.  "I come back from 2023 to 1943 to save you, then don't get that done because you've decided otherwise.  Trying to make me look like an idiot?"

"Fuck you," grinned Bucky.  The grin faded.  "I remembered that I couldn't stop them, Steve.  God, I tried but they used those electrical sticks on me until I was almost unconscious, put me in that machine, sent a charge through my brain over and over again until I didn't know what was up and what was down.  They cut me open with scalpels, just to see if my skin would heal, then how long it would take.  I would watch the cuts close up and heal with no scar marking the spot.  All I had was the memory of the pain I felt when they did it."

"I know."  Grant placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder and squeezed it.  "When they got the other Bucky back, they did far worse things, but it was all bad for both of you.  I didn't want to frighten you with everything I knew about what they did to him, because I really thought I could prevent it.  Instead, I failed, again."

"No." Bucky was emphatic in his declaration.  "Maybe some things were just meant to be.  You came for me and that means everything.  No matter what happens after this I'll be thankful that you were here."  He winced as he shifted slightly, making some of his bones grind against each other as he tried to hide how much it hurt.  "When I'm better, I want to be part of the fight.  They can't be allowed to do this to anyone.  HYDRA has to be destroyed, once and for all."

"You got it," said Grant.

They continued waiting then heard gunshots from above them and a couple of bodies landed near but not on them.  About thirty minutes later Howlett and Bradley appeared, looking like they had just taken a short walk.

"The other patrol called for help as the snow got too deep for them," said the sergeant.  "Radioed this unit to take over the hunt.  It will be a while before they realize we took the second unit out and send for reinforcements.  We should get going while we can."

"How many?" asked Grant.

Bradley and Howlett looked at each other.  "Ten," said the Corporal.  "Not a problem."

They resumed their downward trek towards the river, finding the iced over section actually had a small bridge then began making their way up a trail on the other side.  The path was noticeable, even though it was covered in fresh snow, making them all a little uneasy as it seemed to be well used, but they followed it upwards until it was almost dark, finding a space that was enclosed on three sides by rocks, forming an alcove that was out of the wind.  Raines and Rumlow had their pocket stoves with them and set them up, scooping up snow into the covers that doubled as cooking pots.  While one made coffee from their combined K Rations the other made some food, opening several tins of meat and combining it with water from melted snow and rice he produced from his kit.  It wasn't the best tasting, but it was warm and that made a difference.  Bucky managed a few spoonfuls then shook his head, not wanting any more.  He sipped some coffee but refused that after a short time.  Grant leaned over him, concerned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"My gut," moaned Bucky.  "Hurts."

That was worrisome as the serum should have begun fixing any internal injuries.  Suddenly, Bucky leaned his head to his side and vomited, bringing up some of what he had taken in by mouth.  Quickly, Bradley turned Bucky onto his side to make sure he didn't aspirate as he threw up more, then covered up the evidence with snow.  He made eye contact with Grant, worried at this turn of events.

"Bucky doesn't get anything by mouth," said the Special Agent, looking at everyone.  "The odd sip of water, that's it."

The others didn't say anything, but they understood that this was unexpected.  The serum should have stabilized the young sergeant but it either hadn't begun working yet or it wasn't working at all.  Grant thought through everything he knew about the original Bucky's survival, from the HYDRA files that had been found, wondering if he had missed something.  The only thing that was different was there had been no mention of a wolf carcass found with the original Bucky, so this Bucky had changed his timeline himself.  Kneeling down close to the injured man he tapped his cheek, calling to him to look at Grant.

"What?" Bucky's eyes were unfocused as he answered the older man.

"The wolf, who killed the wolf?"

"Me, it wanted to eat me, so I ate it first," slurred Bucky.  "Blood was warm, felt good."

He looked at Bradley.  "Says he ate the wolf's blood.  Do you think that's what's making him sick?"  The other man shrugged.  "Check the medic's kit.  See if there is syrup of ipecac or activated charcoal in it."

There was neither.  Grant searched the medic's kit for a thermometer and took Bucky's temperature, but it was only slightly elevated, at a temperature known to be normal for a super soldier.  If it had been a clear night, he would have taken the risk of moving on but with the heavy snow and cloud cover it was too dangerous.  They had to bivouac there for the night.  They divided into two shifts; Raines, Rumlow and Howlett would sleep first, with Rose, Murphy, Costello and Bradley sleeping next.  When he was asked when he would sleep Grant looked at all of them but didn't answer verbally.  They all understood that for this night sleep wasn't planned by him.

Chapter Text

It's cold out and the hole in his shoe is covered in ice from the snow that worked its way towards the warmth of his skinny foot.  The resulting accumulation of the frozen material feels like a rock as he runs away from two boys, Wally Webster and Vinnie D'Agostino.  He had a run-in with them before, in the summer.  That's how he met Bucky, as the older and bigger boy heard the sounds of Steve getting his ass kicked and joined the fray.  But this time, the two bullies caught him alone as he went to the grocers for his Ma, to buy some eggs, now lying broken in the gutter, forty cents wasted.  Bastards.  He manages to get away from them when Mr. Friedman yells at the three of them to stop and the two bigger boys hesitate, but he quickly loses his advantage.  They manage to catch up to Steve as the smaller boy heads down an alleyway.  He tries to climb the locked fence at the end, but the two bigger boys catch up to him and pull him down, shoving him against some garbage cans, knocking them over and spilling the stinking mess over the pavement.  A stray cat yowls and streaks away from where it had been gnawing on a dead rat.  He can feel the blood trickling over his face from a cut on his eyebrow but he's angry now and steels himself for what's to come.  Standing up, Steve cocks his fists and takes the stance that Bucky showed him after that first battle together.

"You owe me forty cents," he declares.  "Those eggs were for my ma."

"Sure, Rogers," says Vinnie.  "Just let me find some spare change in my pocket."

Both Vinnie and Wally laugh at his apparent wit then they close in menacingly on Steve.  Suddenly, one of them is knocked down from behind and Steve takes his opportunity to hit the one left standing, Vinnie.  He catches him on just the perfect spot on the boy's jaw, sending him down like a sack of potatoes, not moving from where he lays crumpled on the debris from the scattered garbage cans.  Meanwhile, Bucky is straddled across Wally's middle, whaling away at his face, punch after punch, bringing more blood out of the other boy's obvious broken nose.

"That'll teach you to gang up on a smaller kid," grunts Bucky, as he hits Wally at least a dozen times.  "Leave him alone, you hear me?"

Webster is covering his face with his arms now, crying his eyes out and calling for his ma.  Steve puts his hand on Bucky's arm and for a moment, the wild-eyed boy raises his left fist to him.  Then he sees that it's Steve, but Bucky still keeps his hand raised without hitting the smaller boy, the adrenaline coursing through his veins making him seem like some sort of mythical being caught in the middle of an epic battle.

At that moment, the older Steven who was dreaming this realized this is exactly how Bucky looked on the third helicarrier, when he kept hitting him over and over again.  That was when Steven told Bucky to finish it because he was with him until the end of the line.  That was when he fell into the water below, the stunned look on Bucky's face confirmation that he remembered.  That was the beginning of getting Bucky back before he deliberately left him behind in 2023.

With a start Grant awakened, noticing Bucky's eyes on him.

"You were dreaming," he said, quietly.

Rubbing his face, Grant blinked a few times then noticed that Bucky looked better.

"Yeah, I was dreaming of the time when Vinnie D'Agostino and Wally Webster broke the eggs I bought and chased me into the alley.  You came to my rescue.  That did happen, right?"

A smirk appeared on Bucky's face, visible in the brightening day, even though it was overcast.  "Yeah, I remember that.  I got a little carried away and was about to hit you when you touched my arm.  Funny, how that happened in both times."

"How are you feeling?" asked Grant, placing his cold hand on Bucky's forehead.

"Better," replied the younger man.  "Cold, and my body still hurts like hell, but my gut feels better."  He looked up at the sky.  "We should get going."

"Yeah, we should," said Steve.

Standing up, he went over to where Howlett was sitting, near the edge of the rock that was part of the enclosure.  Kneeling down beside him both men acknowledged each other.

"You let me sleep," said Grant.

"Figured you needed it."

Grant looked out over the chasm they came across the day before.  "Any sign of pursuit?"

"Nothing," replied the Canadian.  "We should get going before our luck runs out."

"Wake everyone and break out the rations we can eat on the way," ordered Grant.  "We leave in ten minutes."

As Howlett woke those who were sleeping, Grant went to relieve himself.  He returned to Bucky's side and the younger man looked at him, questioningly, obviously having heard what he was doing.  Grant glared at the younger man.

"Seriously?  How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Bucky grinned.  "Very carefully."

Grant looked up at the others, who were packing things up.

"Sergeant Barnes has to relieve himself," said Grant.  "Since I've known him the longest, I can take it out and aim it, but I'll need a couple of you to hold up the stretcher so he's more upright."  There were a couple of restrained coughs, then the laughter started and even Bucky grinned.  Grant shook his head and muttered.  "A bunch of 12-year-olds."

Howlett nodded at Bradley and the two of them grasped the stretcher then slowly raised it until Bucky said he couldn't take any more of the pain.  Grant quickly undid the buttons on the sergeant's pants, reached inside and pulled out Bucky's member, aiming it away from his body and the stretcher.

"Go ahead," he said to the young sergeant.  Then he looked at the others, still trying to keep straight faces. "If any of you say anything about this, I'll bust you all down to private and assign you to latrine duty."

"I'm already a private," said Rumlow, trying not to laugh.

The look of relief on Bucky's face was palpable, although he said he felt dizzy after being upright.  Before they started carrying him, Grant checked his dressings on his arm and made sure his legs were still set correctly.

"Do you think you need more morphine?"

Bucky shook his head, so Grant positioned himself at the one handle, while Bradley, Murphy and Costello took the others.  They moved out from the calm of the enclosure and into the wind which had picked up during the night.  Even though it was overcast the clouds were high enough that they could see where they had to go.

They had to travel along an open ridge for some time before connecting to the path that would take them back down into the valley of the next pass.  The wind ripped right through the thick fabric of their winter combat clothing, but no one complained or slowed down, recognizing they had to get out of this enemy held territory as soon as possible.  Partway down the mountain they came to another protected area and took 15 minutes to get some relief from the biting wind as well as to melt some snow for water and eat some rations.  Bucky took both this time, keeping it down, which was seen as a good sign.  The three regular soldiers, Rose, Raines and Rumlow offered to take a turn carrying the stretcher.  At first, Grant was going to turn them down then Bradley stood near him and in a voice that would only be audible to the other super soldiers said something that made him reconsider.

"They know they're not as strong as us, but they care about him," he said.  "He's always been fair with them.  Let them rise to the occasion."

At that moment Grant remembered the times the people without superpowers that were connected to the Avengers did, men like Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Scott Lang, or Phil Coulson, and women like Sharon Carter, Maria Hill, and Natasha Romanoff.  They were good at what they did and there were times he totally forgot they were normal but exceptional people whose equipment and skills made them appear larger than life.

"Alright," he said to the three.

"I'll take the fourth position," said Howlett, slinging his rifle.  He looked down at Bucky.  "You ready?"

"Lead on, Johnny Canuck," smiled Bucky.

The Canadian smirked and the four men took their positions, lifting Bucky and starting down the path towards the tree line.  For hours they maintained a steady pace even when it started to snow, never once giving any indication of tiring.  When the overcast sky grew darker, they began looking for a place to bivouac for the night.  After trudging along a path between two wooded areas they came out to a broad valley and noticed a wooden hut in the distance.  Calling a halt, Grant asked Bradley to accompany him to see if it was occupied.

The two men had no cover, so Howlett and Raines put themselves in position to return any fire aimed at Grant and Bradley.  Stealthily they approached the hut, noticing no recent footprints in the snow, and determining there did not seem to be any activity inside.  Using hand signals to get set up they both approached the door, seeing no lock on the outside.  Grant tested it, pressing the latch down and quickly pushing it open while stepping back to avoid being shot at from the dark depths of the rustic structure.  With a nod to Bradley, he entered, followed by the bigger man and they scanned the interior finding it empty.  There was no sign that anyone had been there in a long time.

"Go tell the others that it's safe," said Grant, as he knelt in front of the fireplace and began to build a fire.

By the time the others arrived he had it going; its presence welcomed by everyone as they entered the small structure.  There was a platform meant to be a bed that they placed Bucky on.  Everyone else staked out a spot on the floor or at the rough table that had two stools.  It was cramped, but it was out of the wind and quickly warming up.  By the light of the fireplace, they opened their K rations and distributed them, while Rose went out and filled their pots with snow to melt to make coffee.  Grant picked up the medic's kit to check on Bucky's left arm, but Bradley put his hand out for the satchel.

"I'll do it," he said.

He approached Bucky, kneeling down before him.  A lantern found by Grant was lit, then brought it closer to the bed so Bradley could better see what he was doing.  As he tentatively cut the dressing away from Bucky's stump, the Corporal watched the young Sergeant's face closely for any pain reaction.  One touch made Bucky jump and hiss with discomfort then he gave Bradley an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Isaiah," he grimaced as the stump came into view.  "How does it look?"

"Signs of healing already," replied the Corporal, then he leaned forward and sniffed it for infection, smiling at Bucky as it didn't smell gangrenous.  "If it gets too much as you warm up, I can give you some morphine.  At least, you'll be okay for a couple of minutes.  How's the other arm and the legs?"

Bucky flexed them and winced as he felt the bones moving.  "Still broken," he replied.  "Maybe the healing factor was slowed down in the cold."  He stiffened as he felt Bradley clean the stump with a warm wet piece of gauze.  "Shit, that hurts."  He withstood it with only the occasional sharp intake of breath betraying the agony that the process was causing him.  When Isaiah was done cleaning Bucky smiled at him, trying to joke about the situation.  "Good thing I'm right-handed."

"Guess you have to count whatever blessings you can get," stated the Corporal.  "I'm going to put sulfa on it, then rewrap it.  I won't touch the tourniquet ... don't want to risk the bleeding starting again."  He watched as Bucky looked away, biting his lip.  "You're alive, and you won't be turned into that assassin because we got to you first, Bucky.  You're going to be okay."

A humourless grunt was Bucky's response.  "What am I going to do?  I've always worked manual labour."

"Go to college," replied Bradley.  "GI Bill will pay for it and give you an allowance while you go.  Cap always said you were smart and a good student."

"Yeah, I guess."  He watched as the arm was re-bandaged then nodded at Bradley as he repacked the medic's kit.  "Thanks."

He looked up at the ceiling as Isaiah rose, but was quiet and withdrawn after, not taking part in any of the conversation.  Bradley made eye contact with Grant, shrugging slightly.  Nothing really had to be said because it was evident Bucky was already on his way to being affected by what happened, understandably so.  It still made Grant feel like he had failed; blaming himself for not doing more to stop what happened.  With a sniff he put his feelings aside.

"I'll take first watch," said Grant.  "Everyone else sleep."

"Wake me next," yawned Howlett, who was already stretched out on the floor.

A couple of others volunteered to take a shift.  Pulling a stool over to the window Grant looked outside, keeping his eyes peeled for any sort of activity.  Sometime later, when he began to feel his eyes drooping, he stood up, checked Bucky to make sure he was sleeping, then kneeled down to Howlett, squeezing his shoulder.  The Sergeant sat up right away and rubbed his face, then put some more wood on the fire, giving his spot over to Grant while he sat on the stool, looking out over the dark landscape, barely lit by the crescent moon, somewhere behind them.  The only sound was the crackle of the wood as it burned, and some light snoring from Rumlow.  The sergeant watched for several hours then felt a hand on his shoulder and Bradley's eyes on him.

"I'll sit a spell," said the big man.

"Thanks," murmured Howlett and he took the open spot on the floor, falling asleep in minutes.

Bradley watched until dawn broke on the other side of the mountain then stirred the embers of the fire, adding a single piece of wood so they could use the heat of that to boil water.  As he stepped outside to relieve himself then pack their cooking pots with snow, he was surprised to find the temperature was warmer than it was when they arrived.  There was a warm wind that smelled fresh, like spring.  Stepping inside he waited until the others started waking up before he commented on it.  Howlett smiled as he stepped outside for several minutes then came back inside.

"A chinook wind," he said.  "They're common in Alberta, where I'm from, but more in the south of the province than in the north.  They're air masses that drop their moisture on the other side of the mountain then the warm air rises and falls on the leeward side.  There's only one thing about it that concerns me.  We're on the north side of the mountain, still in Austria.  The winds here come from the Adriatic Sea which is to the south where the sun is on the other side of the mountain.  If we were in Italy, the sun would be on that side, and it would have snowed already."

Grant hurriedly stepped outside and pulled his compass out, trying to align the directions.  It pointed to the south as north, obviously the magnet in it not functioning properly.  He almost threw it away but instead closed it and placed it back into his pocket.  It had gone forward to the future with him after he crashed the Valkyrie in 1945, then back in time from 2023, and was too much a part of him to discard now.  Stepping inside to the others he ran his hand through his beard.

"My compass is malfunctioning," he said.  "Howlett's right.  We've been going deeper into Austria.  If we're where I hope we are we're not far from an airfield, but we'll have to steal a truck to get to it because it's near a village and there's no way we're getting through there without being seen."

He laid the map out on the table, showing where he thought they were, the location of the nearest roadway, the village that was their destination and the airfield near the village.  It was considerably further from the coast than they were expecting.  After getting that all straightened out, everyone ate and drank coffee or warm water, then went outside and relieved themselves.  Once again, they helped Bucky do what he had to, without the laughter this time as his face showed his state of mind.  He needed morphine after that even though the effects of it wore off within minutes.  Getting lost didn't help matters either as it continued his suffering, especially now that his body had thawed out a little.  His hands were badly swollen from being frozen; presumably his feet were as well but they hadn't looked yet as his boots hadn't been removed, not wanting to interfere with the splints on his legs.  Grant kneeled next to the young sergeant.

"How's your pain?" he asked.  Bucky didn't answer at first, but it was obvious he wasn't doing well as his jaw seemed clenched.  "Bucky...."

"What do you want me to say?"  He looked at Grant angrily.  "I'm in agony and the only reason I don't give in to it is because it won't make things better.  The morphine lasts for a couple of minutes, tops, and every step that's been taken with me on this stretcher feels like I've been hit by a sledgehammer."  He clenched his jaw again and closed his eyes as he dealt with a new wave of pain that had him breathing hard.  "I don't know how much more I can take of this."

"Look, I know I have no idea how painful it is," said Grant, in a low voice.  "But, if we can get down the mountain this morning and steal a truck, we can probably steal an airplane before nightfall.  With luck we can be in Rome by the morning.  You'll be in a hospital, and they'll be able to keep you sedated."

"No," declared Bucky.  "I don't want to be knocked out because it doesn't last, and they really don't know how much they can put in me before it gets too dangerous.  If you get me to Rome, you call Dr. Waslewski.  Get her to bring one of those cylinders and freeze me.  Then I won't feel any of it."

His mouth set in a grim line, but he was trembling, and Grant felt sick at seeing it.  This wasn't how this was supposed to go.  Bucky wasn't supposed to suffer.  Maybe he was.  You just changed how.  The thought hit him so quickly it was like a knife slicing into him before he felt its impact.  Without a word he ran outside to the side of the hut and threw up.  He heard the sound of someone beside him and glanced over without standing up, expecting to see Howlett's or Bradley's boots but it was a smaller pair and he stood up to face Corporal Rose.

"I don't feel very honourable right now," he said to the smaller man.

"Why not?" asked Rose.

"Bucky still fell, he's losing hope, and I don't know how to make him feel better," said Grant.

"You can't.  Do you realize the size of the task you took on?  You came back to change a man's fate, a fate you already witnessed after it happened in your own time.  The universe doesn't like it when someone tries to change it, and it fights back."

Now Grant just felt confused.  "I thought you said that us working together to do this was keeping things balanced and that what I was doing was honourable."

"Yes, that is true, and I meant it," said Rose.  "But you are also going up against fate, against destiny, against God, if you believe in him.  Your hope for this man, to come back and change what happened to him in your universe, is a noble fight.  It doesn't mean that it will go your way.  You're a super soldier, not God.  That which is worth fighting for must still be worth it, even when it seems like you are fighting the tide or have doubts about what you're doing.  Bucky is fighting his own fight, inside himself.  I suspect he has doubted himself for a long time, about whether he was ever truly a good man and that has upset his own balance, that is just prikaza.  All you can do for him is to be there for him to lean on and show him by example that you're not giving up; not on him, not on any of this.  He is not the same man you left behind; you coming back made time branch off and this is a new Bucky, very much like the other one but different as well and you need to accept the differences between the two men to help this one.  Stop comparing him to the other."

Grant leaned against the building.  "Shit, she warned me," he muttered.  He let out a frustrated breath.  "A sorceress helped me when I arrived.  This isn't the first time I've tried to change Bucky's fate, but this was the first time I changed how I did it.  I came back earlier than I did the other times, and changed my own fate first, then Dr. Erskine's.  She said it would have ripples that would likely change Bucky's timeline, but I had to focus on the bigger picture.  To save him, he still has to go through this; that's the price that has to be paid.  Because you're right, the fate he originally had isn't letting go of him without a fight."  Standing up tall Grant looked out over the valley for some time as Rose watched him. Then a new sense of determination seemed to fill him and he turned back to Rose, smiling in thanks for his presence.  "I can do this all day and for him, I'll do it as long as I have to.  Let's go home."

He strode back into the hut, pleased to see that everyone was ready to go.  The super soldiers picked up Bucky's stretcher and carried him outside.  Even his face lightened up a little at the warmth of the wind and freshness it brought.  This time Grant led the group, taking it upon himself to make sure they were headed in the right direction.  Even though they stopped briefly to give Bucky a small respite, they made it down the mountain by late afternoon.

Taking cover near a roadway they watched for some time as the German military traffic passed by.  It was already night when they saw a large, covered truck approaching their position. Seizing the opportunity, the super soldiers ran after it.  Two of them took care of the men in the cab while the other three took on the contingent of six men in the back, killing all of them in the process as they could not take the chance of being discovered.  Taking the uniforms from the enemy, those who could speak German put them on over their own clothes then posed as guards transporting prisoners into the village.  They drove through the village unchallenged then headed to the airfield, pulling over to a secure spot outside the perimeter where they wouldn't be seen.  Finding binoculars in the truck Costello and Murphy studied the different aircraft that were parked outside the hangars before deciding on a Junkers Ju 52, the standard aircraft used by paratroopers.  There were several being worked on at the airfield so they decided to choose the one that was refuelled first, indicating its readiness for flight.  They also studied the layout of the airfield as best they could in the dark, calculating which end of the runway they would have to taxi to in order to take off.

When day arose there was still no indication that any of the Junkers had been refuelled yet so they continued to watch. So far, no sentries had arrived to patrol the area where they were. The warmth from the mountain had extended into the valley so they didn't need a fire to keep warm and were able to eat their remaining rations cold. Late in the afternoon they were alerted to a fuel truck driving up to one of the Junkers aircraft and prepared to put their plan into motion. As soon as darkness fell the plan was to drive the truck through the perimeter to the aircraft, where Grant, Howlett and Bradley would go on the attack, taking out any guards and destroying the other aircraft.  Murphy and Costello were to head to the cockpit and start the aircraft while Rose, Raines and Rumlow would get Bucky safely on board, then defend the aircraft.

"As soon as Bucky is strapped in you head to the airstrip," ordered Grant.  "If we're not there, you still take off."

"You don't want us to wait?" asked Murphy.

"No, we'll catch up before the wheels lift and board through the jump door so leave it open," said Grant.  "Don't worry, we're fast runners, but if we don't make it, don't stop.  We'll be alright.  Getting Bucky out of here is the priority."

After waiting for the fuelling to be finished and the guards to change shifts, the truck was started up.  Instead of ramming it into the fence Howlett and Bradley pulled the barrier down, reasoning they would make less noise, giving them more time before the speeding truck was noticed as it headed towards the aircraft.  Holding on to the back of the truck, the other three super soldiers rode in most of the way before jumping off and attacking the guard posts and anti-aircraft artillery positions.  Rumlow, driving the truck as if it were a getaway vehicle, raced right up to the Junkers, screeching to a halt.  Opening the back door of the aircraft, Murphy and Costello went straight to the cockpit, beginning starting procedures while Rose and Raines hauled Bucky into the aircraft, apologizing for the jostling motions that made him cry out in pain as they placed him on a bench portion and strapped in him in. Rumlow stayed outside with a machine gun to hold off any attackers.  As he waited, he removed the chocks from in front of the aircraft's wheels, remembering to duck when the propellers started.   Raines yelled out the door for him to get in.  Jumping in, Rumlow looped his hand through a leather strap at the door as the aircraft began taxiing to the end of the runway, trying to spot their other three men.  He noticed more German soldiers streaming from the various outbuildings towards them, while firing, and yelled to the others inside.

"The place is crawling with Germans!  We gotta go!"

Suddenly, one of the hangars blew up, then the one next to it. Outlined against the flames he saw three figures running towards the airstrip well in front of the aircraft, recognizing them as Rogers, Howlett and Bradley.

"Take off!  They'll catch up before you lift off!"

The two pilots pushed the throttle forward and the aircraft picked up speed as Rumlow saw their three running faster than he had ever seen a man run before in an effort to intercept the aircraft before it lifted its bulk from the ground.  Holding out his hand he grabbed Bradley's outstretched palm, almost being pulled out himself as the big man hauled himself in.  Then Bradley turned around, taking Rumlow's place and tugged Howlett in.  Both men leaned out the open door, one grabbing Grant's outstretched hand, the other grabbing his clothes, pulling him in so forcefully he hit the other side of the aircraft, denting the fuselage from the inside.  The sounds of bullets hitting the fuselage was like the sound of heavy hail on a tin roof and they all hit the floor.

Rumlow yelled towards the front that they were all in, then struggled to slide the door covering back into place, with Howlett helping him get it locked.  Sliding down with his back against the fuselage he looked at the three men, who didn't even look winded then realized by the flicker of lights in the aircraft's windows from the flames on the ground that Grant was bleeding at the shoulder.  Scrambling up he pulled a medics kit off of the wall behind the cockpit and headed towards the back, trying to keep upright as the two pilots took the aircraft up in a steep ascent.  Almost falling forward on his face, he was supported by Bradley's outstretched arm, and nodded his thanks before kneeling before Grant.

"You're injured," he said.  "Take your jacket off."

With a nod, Grant unbuttoned it and accepted Bradley's help to get it off, followed by unbuttoning his shirt.  With a flashlight held on it by Howlett, Rumlow pulled Grant's shirt open, cleaned the wound, noticing the exit wound on his back, sprinkled sulfa powder on both sides, then applied dressings, wrapping them into place.

"You know it'll be healed in a few hours?" said Grant.

"Let me feel useful, will ya?" snapped the dark-haired man, fully aware that the super soldier would heal without his efforts but wanting to feel like he had done something more than just drive the truck and pull the chocks.

Grant put his hand on Rumlow's arm, making eye contact with him.  "You're useful, Ben," he said sincerely.  "I'm glad you're on the team.  You're a brave soldier and a good man.  All of you are and we're making a difference, believe that."

It was a defining moment for Rumlow, who had grown up in an orphanage, was in and out of trouble as a youth, then became involved with a criminal gang at 19, learning on the job to be a safecracker.  He learned all about what was needed to blow doors up just enough to do the job and was prepared to live that life as it seemed better than working odd jobs of manual labour that sucked the life out of a man, making him old before his time.  Then he met his wife, someone who hadn't been corrupted by the company he usually kept. With her encouraging him to break away from that life, he tried but it was hard as it really was the only life he knew.  His son's birth just days after Pearl Harbor sent him to the enlistment office, as it was a decent paying job and the life insurance, if he died, could go a long way to giving his wife and son a chance at a better life.

As Rumlow sat against the fuselage, looking at Steven Grant in the darkened interior of the stolen German aircraft, he saw a man who had lived a life as brutal as his, in its own way.  Born in Hell's Kitchen to a poor widowed mother, sickly from birth, he stood up for himself, even when life kept beating him down.  He was a good man because he believed it from the beginning.  That this man, who came back in time to fight a vicious enemy who was hellbent on hurting anyone in its way, and treating people as objects to be exploited, believed that he, Benjamin Rumlow, was just as good a man humbled him.  Feeling his eyes start to water he picked up the medic's kit and made his way up to where Bucky lay listlessly, still drained by the effort to get him on the aircraft.  Wordlessly, he began to check the younger man over, gently tending to the wounded soldier.  As the aircraft flew towards Italy in the wintry night, Rumlow began to believe.  It was chance that got him on the Patrol, but maybe, just maybe, he had found the place he belonged. 

Chapter Text

It was a three-hour flight from the airfield where they stole the German aircraft outside Villach, Austria to Rome, where they had flown from five days before.  As the Patrol flew towards their objective Raines immediately got on the radio trying to make contact with their people in Italy, unsure of the range of the radio unit on the Junkers aircraft.  Worried about being attacked by their own fighters as they flew out of German held airspace, it was a tense time as he repeated the code over and over again, requesting a fighter escort.  With less than an hour left before they expected to land, they hadn't heard anything, and began to wonder if their message had even been received.

"What do we do?" asked Costello, who stepped away from the cockpit to come back to the others.  "We can't defend ourselves if they come after us, but we didn't do all this just to be shot out of the sky."

"Is it possible the codes have changed?" asked Grant.

"They wouldn't do that, not when they know our plan involved stealing a German aircraft," replied Raines.  "The only way that would happen is if there was a security breach, and the codes were broken.  I think it's more likely the transmitting wire on top was damaged when we took fire before taking off."

"We got company!" yelled Murphy, sending Costello back to the cockpit.

Grant stood in the passageway behind them.  "Night fighters.  We're basically sitting ducks.  What machine guns we have are empty.  They mustn't have loaded them with ammo before we left."

They watched as two fighters approached them then flew right past on either side without firing.  Both turned around and came back, sidling up to fly on either side of them in formation.

"They're signalling to us," called out Howlett, who was looking out one of the gun ports.  "Morse code.  Verify identity, mission code."

Raines stepped forward, taking the flashlight from Howlett and flashed the Patrol's code name, then the code for their mission.  He also sent the success codes and asked for landing instructions.  It was a tense few moments as they watched the dark shadow of the fighter aircraft alongside them not respond for some time.  Then a light appeared, illuminating the pilot in the cockpit.  He gave them a thumbs up, then his cockpit light darkened, and his partner flashed them a message in Morse code that finally allowed them all to relax.

Welcome back, Phantom Patrol.  More escorts to come.  Follow us.

The mood inside the aircraft improved considerably and Grant went up to the cockpit, seeing one of the two fighter aircraft go in front of it, turning on red taillights that were visible in the dark.  As they got closer to their destination, and the skies began to lighten, more escorts came out and guided them to the airfield, veering off to allow the Junkers to land by itself.  An aircraft marshaller with large, oversized paddles signalled to the pilots to approach him and follow his instructions.  He guided them towards a hangar where an ambulance waited.  As they got closer, they noticed Dr. Waslewski was waiting, along with Steve Rogers and General Phillips.  Grant turned away from the cockpit and kneeled down to Bucky as the others crowded around the various windows and openings to the outside.

"We're safe," he said.  "Dr. Waslewski is already here.  I'm guessing she's anticipated what you need.  You're going to be alright, Buck.  Just have faith, okay?"

The wounded man nodded then gave out a shaky breath.  "I'll try.  Steve?  Thank you for finding me.  Don't tell them I gave up."

"You had a moment, that's all," replied Grant.  "You're alive and the serum will heal you.  We'll see you back here in no time to finish what we started."

The aircraft came to a stop and the jump door was opened.  The others left the aircraft, stopping to say some words to Bucky, who acknowledged them all while trying to keep it together.  Dr. Waslewski and Steve Rogers boarded.  She made eye contact with Grant, saying plenty in the look she gave him, then turned her attention to Bucky while Rogers stopped in front of his counterpart.

"What happened?  We expected you before sunset last night."

"Got lost," replied Grant.  "The compass stopped working and we ended up deeper in Austria instead of nearer the coast.  Had to go to a different airfield.  Zola?"

"He gave up the location of Schmidt's main base but it's different than where you said.  I guess things changed.  We'll have to send both teams in as it's a massive structure."  Rogers looked over at his friend.  "How bad?"

"Bad, he still lost his arm," said Grant.  "I gave him the vial of serum and although it made a difference it didn't start mending his bones until he got warm.  He's still in agony."  Leaning close he whispered in Rogers' ear, hoping Bucky was preoccupied with answering Eva's questions to him.  "He had to kill a wolf with his bare hands.  That wasn't in my timeline either.  I'll tell you more when we have a chance."

He left their reunion to them and exited the aircraft where the General was waiting.  The man gave him a grim look, which wasn't quite different from his happy one, but he seemed extra irritated.

"Special Agent Grant," he intoned.  "I'm glad to see you're in one piece.  You got lost, huh?"

"My compass malfunctioned," replied Grant, taking the blame for the delay.  "The serum didn't work the way we thought.  It gave him extra energy and healed the internal injuries, but his bones are still likely broken or not mending properly and he's in a lot of pain.  His left arm is gone.  I want to talk to Zola."

The General shook his head.  "Your people in Army CIC came for him."  Grant raised his eyebrows.  "My reaction as well but they had orders from Eisenhower that I couldn't ignore.  It seems that Operation Paperclip is in full force."

"Damn, you know that he'll make contact with HYDRA supporters already embedded in our military," said Grant.  "I made it clear to my superiors that he wasn't to be trusted."

"He played his cards well and convinced them he was, I guess," said Phillips.  "Regardless, you and Cap will be preparing to attack that base."  He looked at the Junkers aircraft.  "We'll be able to use this for some missions once we repair the bullet holes and upgrade the radio system.  Good thing we were expecting a stolen German airplane and realized that your signal wasn't getting through.  Had no shortage of volunteers wanting to go up and protect you."

Rogers appeared at the jump door opening and waved the ambulance attendants in to bring Bucky out.  The doctor exited before him and stood with Grant and Phillips as they carefully moved the injured man through the narrow opening and into the waiting ambulance.

"He's asked to be frozen in one of the cylinders for transport to England," she said, "but I don't want to wait for it to be delivered here.  The bones not setting properly has me concerned and I think we should get him to the base as soon as possible.  General, do we have a bigger, faster aircraft to transport him in?"

"Yes, that can be arranged," said Phillips.  "Do you think there's a problem with your serum?"

"No, I think the problem is with the serum he was given originally," she said.  "It was a copy of Erskine's original formula, as made from Schmidt's blood, and modified by Dr. Zola.  Whatever that man's body transformed it into has affected Sergeant Barnes' own body chemistry.  Even though this most recent version was developed with the intent of working with Dr. Zola's serum I believe the two formulas are incompatible and it has made his body slower to respond as his body is fighting itself.  Until I get him back to England and Dr. Erskine's lab we won't know for sure."  She looked at Grant.  "He said he killed a wolf and drank its blood to stay warm.  Did you happen to bring anything from the carcass?  It's possible it may have been diseased, and his body is fighting that as well."

"Sorry, wasn't exactly in a position to think of that," he replied.  "We took fire and wanted to get him out of there as soon as possible.  Eva, he will get better, right?"

She smiled, trying to reassure him.  "Neither I nor Abraham will give up," she said.  "With Barnes in a hospital setting and not having to fight for survival it may be enough for his body to start regenerating on its own."  She noticed the bullet hole in the shoulder of Grant's combat gear.  "I want to have a look at that."

"It's fine," he replied but she gave him a look that he recognized.  "I'll be there soon."

Leaving the three men there she got into the ambulance with Barnes as it headed for the base hospital.  She would at least start him on IV fluids and try to get some pain relief into him that way.  He would also be X-rayed to determine the full extent of his skeletal injuries and properly set the bones.  The other members of the patrol were already en route to the base for much needed showers, rest, and good food.  They would receive medical attention as well, if they required it but Sergeant Barnes was her priority.

A staff car was waiting for the General and he invited Rogers and Grant into it with him.  The latter took the opportunity to give a more detailed verbal report of all they encountered, receiving updates from them as well on Zola's interrogation.  Since the Howling Commandos were also in Italy it was decided that both teams would train there for the mission to destroy the main HYDRA facility there.  As they drove to the base General Phillips cleared his throat.

"My counterpart accompanied you on this mission in your time, didn't he, Grant?"

"Yes, sir, he did," replied the Special Agent.  "Are you pulling rank to get in on it as well?  Peggy Carter was also on it and was part of its success.  If you go, she goes."

"I agree," said the General.  "Now, what about Captain Rogers, here?  You never did come right out to say what happened to you on that mission, but I gather something did, because of how long you said you were missing in the ice.  In fact, you've said precious little about anything that happens after you attack Schmidt in his fortress."

Grant breathed out audibly, knowing the question would come up.  He had no intention of letting Steve freeze in the ice if he could help it but also knew that he was messing with another man's destiny and sooner or later, his luck would run out.

"With all due respect, sir, I would rather discuss that with Captain Rogers and only with him," said Grant.  "I think it important that he be in charge of his own destiny with as little interference as possible from you, me, or anyone else."

If General Phillips was capable of growling, the sound that came out of his throat would likely qualify as one.  He wasn't a man that accepted being kept in the dark.  The ride to the base continued under the watchful glare of the commanding officer but Grant kept his resolve firm.  He would share the details of what could happen but only to Steve, as he wasn't going to broadcast it.  Part of him still wondered if sharing Bucky's details with too many people had made what happened inevitable.  If Steve went down with the Valkyrie, then Grant would find him and dig him out by hand if he had to.  When they arrived at the base, an aide was waiting for General Phillips with an intelligence communique.   With another grunt directed at Grant, the General went into his office, leaving Rogers and Grant to walk to their quarters alone.

"You were quick to shut him down," observed Rogers.

"Yeah, I know, but it was necessary," replied Grant.  "This mission to destroy Schmidt's base?  It's the one that you'll go missing on.  You're going to have to handle him on your own and ditch the aircraft, but I'll know where you should be, and I'll find you."

The younger man stopped in his tracks, making Grant stop and turn back to him.

"So, I have to die," said Rogers.

"No, you don't die," answered the older man. "You'll freeze, as if you were in a cryostasis cylinder then we'll thaw you out after, as the serum will keep you alive.  The biggest difference from my time is that you'll only be frozen a short time and the doctor who knows how to thaw you out safely is Dr. Waslewski, who will be there for you."

"But she's looking after Bucky," said Rogers.  "I don't want to take her away from looking after him."

"You won't."  Grant looked his younger counterpart in the eye.  "Look, I want us to talk about this very soon as this mission will take place within a few weeks.  I'll tell you everything I remember from it and, to be honest, it could go different for you than it did for me.  You could defeat Schmidt before he takes off in his aircraft.  But if he does get airborne, you have to be the one to fight him.  It's part of Captain America's timeline and we have to keep the timeline the same as much as possible."

"Even though we've already changed it with Bucky?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy and contradictory, but we have to at least attempt to maintain it.  I shouldn't have ordered Bucky to stay off the train.  Maybe I should have locked him up in a cell and not let him go on the mission.  Maybe I should have been the third man on the train instead of Gabe and sent Bucky to the front of the train in his place."  Rogers looked at him with some alarm to which Grant reacted with a shrug.  "It was pointed out to me that the universe doesn't like it when someone tries to change how it is supposed to evolve.  You are meant to fight Red Skull at that base, and in the aircraft.  You are meant to crash the aircraft in the Arctic.  But I am meant to find you within days and bring you back instead of you being missing for 66 years like I was.  Can we come back to this soon, over some food and a good stiff drink?  Or do you want to keep poking holes in my plan?"

"You're a stubborn son of a bitch, aren't you?" asked Rogers, grinning.

"So are you," replied Grant, also grinning.  "We'll get this done, Steve.  I know we will, because I've done it already.  Now, I really want to go see if they've got Bucky set up right.  Then I want to see Eva and let her check out my shoulder, so she knows that I'll be okay."

"I'll come with you to make sure about Bucky," said Rogers.

The two men stopped at the hospital, finding most of the Patrol there, getting checked out mainly for frostbite.  Howlett had already been dismissed.  Bradley, Murphy and Costello were dismissed shortly after Rogers and Grant arrived, while Rose, Raines and Rumlow were still being examined by the medics, supervised by Lt. Hay.  Eva was in X-ray with Major Lambert and Bucky, as they were imaging his limbs before removing the cardboard splints.  She looked back at the two super soldiers as they entered the room where she and the Major were already looking at the developed X-rays of his arm and back.

"How does it look?" asked Grant.

"His spine is starting to heal," she said.  "So, we're going to get him into traction as soon as we can to make sure everything is where it should be.  The ribs were mostly cracked, rather than broken, so they'll heal properly.  The arm started to knit together but will have to be re-broken, and I suspect the legs will have to be as well.  Understandable considering how far you had to walk with him on a stretcher.  I want to do that under anaesthetic.  We'll use what we have available until his body begins to metabolize it then switch to another.  Hopefully, by the time we run out of options we'll have everything reset and casted."

"Is he in pain?" asked Rogers.

"Yes," replied Major Lambert.  "He's in agony but even morphine has no effect on him anymore.  How many syrettes did you give him?"

"4 or 5, at least," said Grant.  "They only lasted a few minutes.  He asked to be frozen for the flight back to England."

"We didn't bring a cylinder, but we will cool him down almost to the point of hypothermia to numb his nervous system," said Lambert.  "He's already suffered extensive frostbite damage and we have to give that every opportunity to heal or he could lose his fingers."   The man looked frustrated.  "We just don't know how his body will react.  We're also just going to clean up the wound on the severed arm but not do anything further to it as Dr. Erskine was of the opinion that the serum should regenerate the limb from the site of the damage."

A yell of agony drew their attention to Bucky as they positioned his legs for X-rays.  As soon as the exposure was done, he was moved back to a treatment room while the two doctors waited to see the X-rays.  Both of them made sounds of disappointment, realizing they would have to break the legs again then reset them and cast them.

"I'll get the OR set up," said Lambert.  "I'll break the news to Barnes, as well."

Rogers went with Lambert, wanting to be there for Bucky, leaving Grant and the doctor alone in the X-ray room.  At first, Eva tried to look stoic, then she shook her head and stepped close to Grant, as he wrapped his arms around her.  Allowing herself a few sobs, she quickly got herself back under control.

"He's suffered so much," she said in a low voice.  "The low temperatures definitely slowed down the healing factor and those cardboard splints didn't keep his legs or arm immobile enough."

"In my original timeline it took weeks, even longer, for all of his injuries to heal according to the files I read," said Grant.  "They were already experimenting on him, injecting him with all sorts of toxins in between serum injections.  It's hard to believe he survived at all."

She placed her hand on his shoulder, pulling the jacket away to look underneath at his injury.

"You didn't wear your bulletproof uniform," she noticed.  "Why not?"

"I don't know."  She gave him a look that said she didn't believe him.  "It gives me an advantage that the others didn't have.  Maybe, for this mission, I wanted to face the same dangers they did.  This injury didn't happen until the final day, when we stole the airplane."

They walked together towards the treatment room, where she prepared as he took his jacket and shirts off, exposing the bandaged-up shoulder.  While he undressed, she filled a basin with warm water and antiseptic soap, then brought several gauze pads over and a towel.  As he sat on the bed, she pulled on rubber gloves and removed the soiled bandage, discarding it in the waste bin.  Dipping the gauze into the water she began to clean it, as he watched her.  It was mostly healed, with the scab coming off after several swipes of the gauze, revealing the pink skin underneath.  Discarding the soiled portion, she wet a new piece and finished cleaning the front and back of his shoulder.  Then she took her gloves off and touched the area around his shoulder with her fingertips, trying to determine if there was any heat under the skin that indicated the possibility of infection.  With a small smile, she patted it, satisfied he had healed.  Before she pulled it away, Grant took her hand in his and kissed the palm.  The sound of the swinging door opening interrupted them, and he let it go.

"Major Lambert said the OR is ready for Sergeant Barnes," said Lt. Hay.  "The aides are prepping him first while you and I get scrubbed up."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Eva.  "I'll be right there."  She waited until the nurse left then looked at Grant.  "I have to go.  Then I'll likely stay up after and monitor Barnes overnight.  If his vitals are stable, I want to fly him out tomorrow morning."

He nodded, understanding that meant they wouldn't have any private time together.  Slipping off the bed, he towered over her, then bent down and kissed her.  With a nod and a smile, he gathered his clothing and headed towards the door, opening it to allow her out first.  Rogers was waiting in the hallway outside the OR preparation room.  As Eva walked inside, he looked at Grant, raising his eyebrows at his state of undress.

"She wanted to make sure my bullet wound healed," the older man explained.  "Come on.  I need a shower, some decent food, and a drink.  We'll have that talk."

The ordeal that Bucky Barnes endured while he laid broken in the snow in that Austrian mountain chasm was always going to be seared in his memories.  Not only did he have unimaginable pain that only lessened as his body froze in the frigid conditions; he also had to deal with a wild wolf, that may or may not have had rabies, according to the whispers he heard around him in that base hospital.  Until Steven Grant and the Phantom Patrol found him buried under the snow, he only had his own demons to keep him company; demons that included memories of hurting Vera, and the certainty that he was unworthy of living, because why else would the universe have subjected him to that much pain and suffering.  There were other whispers he heard while on that base, supposedly spoken out of earshot, but as audible to him as if the speakers were standing right beside him.

"I heard he fought Captain America on that train," said one of those gossipers, repeating what had been said to him.  "Tried to kill him when HYDRA ordered him to.  That's why the Commandos didn't go back for him.  The Phantoms only went looking so he can stand trial."

Almost as bad were the other whispers that spoke of his injuries.  "Poor SOB.  He'll never be the same again.  No left arm, just about every bone in his body broken.  I heard he went crazy out there.  Killed a wolf with his bare hands and drank its blood.  Who knows what that will do to a man?"

He tried to ignore it, figuring out that there were likely HYDRA plants on the base, just like Hoffman, feeding these rumours to people only too willing to pass them on.  Almost worse were the looks of pity, first from the X-ray technicians who tried so hard not to jostle him when they were positioning him on the hard table.  Each move they made left him gritting his teeth at the pain, before he would lose it and cry out in agony.  Then they would fall over themselves apologizing for subjecting him to the ordeal.

After the procedure to re-break his legs and arm to reset them in their proper position, thankfully done through general anaesthetic that lasted long enough for him to get through that, he was placed in a cubicle on the ward, the cloth partitions separating him from the view of others, except for those people who walked by the foot of his bed, slowing down to see the spectacle of a man who fell several hundred feet from a speeding train, and lived.  Nurses, doctors, orderlies, cleaners ... they all wanted a look at him, and he was sick of it.  When Lt. Hay came to check on him a short time after his arrival he looked into her eyes, fearing to see the look of pity there.

"What can I do for you, Sarge?" she asked, while she checked the tension of the traction supports for his spine.  "Cigarette?  Whiskey?"

Her eyes were warm as she gazed at him, making him feel better.  "How about a kiss?" he joked.

She grinned sadly, then unbuttoned the top of her nurse's uniform, showing a flash of skin, and pulled out her dog tags from inside, showing the engagement ring on it.

"Still engaged, sorry," she replied, tucking it back in, then re-buttoning the uniform and bending close to him.  "If I wasn't I would be first in line to kiss you."  She noticed how tired and sad he was and leaned closer.  "I wish I could take some of this pain for you, Bucky."

"Can you put a partition at the end of the bed?" he asked.  "I feel like a circus freak."

"Sure," she smiled.  "I can do that for you.  Once we get back to England you'll be in our unit's infirmary.  No more lookie-loos.  Anything else?"

"I can hear them gossiping about me," he murmured.  "They think I fought Cap on the train; that I tried to kill him."

"We're aware of it," she admitted.  "Trying to find who's spreading that garbage.  Once we do, they'll be undergoing interrogation.  Those of us who know you know the truth."

She placed her hand on his cheek and smiled kindly at him.  It wasn't until later, when she took her break and went outside into the night, away from the hospital that she cried for what had happened to Bucky, worried that he might never get over this.  It had been obvious to her that what happened to Vera had affected him; this setback could destroy one of the best men she knew.  Until he got physically better, SSR nurse, Lieutenant Joanna Hay, would continue to treat Sergeant Bucky Barnes exactly the same she always did, with a mixture of plain speaking, understanding, and a firm boundary that her love was meant for someone else.  Just because desperate measures had been taken to rescue him, then to treat his horrific injuries, didn't mean that the man inside needed to be treated with kid gloves.  In her opinion he needed to believe that he was still the same man he was before, and she would do all she could to help him feel that way.

Chapter Text

The addition of a partition to the end of Bucky's bed ended the steady stream of people wanting to see the young sergeant, making him feel less like he was on display.  After Lt. Hay went off duty, Dr. Waslewski and Major Lambert each took a shift monitoring Bucky's vitals and keeping anyone from bothering him during the night.  They also checked the swelling in his hand and feet caused by the frostbite he suffered.  It subsided overnight as the better environment in the hospital allowed the serum to successfully restore the healthy look and feel of his skin on his extremities.  By the morning both doctors were of the opinion that he could tolerate the flight back to England.  The major went looking for a source of ice, wanting to cool Bucky down to numb his nerves as a form of pain relief.  What he was able to find wasn't enough to last longer than an hour, so Bucky agreed to do without, claiming that the pain wasn't as bad as it was when he arrived.  Just before he was to be removed from the hospital the general stopped to see him, dismissing everyone so that the conversation was between just him and the sergeant.

"Sir," said Bucky.  "I'm sorry I can't salute."

"Don't be, son," said Phillips.  "I am in awe of you, Sergeant Barnes.  You have gone through something so horrific that I can't even begin to fathom it.  You will go back to England and once you have healed enough to walk, you'll go back home."

"Sir, no, I want to fight," protested the young man.  "HYDRA has to be stopped."

"On that we agree," said the general, "but a one-armed man, even one who killed a wolf while he was as incapacitated as you were, is still a liability."  He put his hand up, seeing Bucky was prepared to argue.  "I'm not saying you can't come back.  I have talked to Dr. Erskine, and he wishes to get you back to the lab in New York.  It is a better setup than the lab in England and there is no chance of being bombed by the Germans, at least by air.  They're sending out those V2 rockets now, and our base is a target.  The doctor is of the opinion that if you get more injections of his serum that your body will regenerate the lost arm.  If it does, you will be coming back.  If it doesn't, then I want you to be fitted for a new artificial arm that Howard Stark is working on.  He claims it will revolutionize the field of prosthetics."  He shrugged.  "I don't know if he's just talking out of his hat, but the man is a genius, and he knows we need you.  Don't forget that ... we do need you."

"Yes, sir," replied Bucky.  "I'll try to get back as soon as I can, with a new arm either way."

"Good.  Now there is one more thing I have to do."  He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a long flat box.  "It doesn't bring your arm back, or even come close to acknowledging the personal price you have paid with your injuries, but it's a start.  It is my honour to present you with a Purple Heart, in recognition of the injuries you received while in the performance of your duty."  He took it out of the case and fastened it to Bucky's hospital gown.  Then he stood up and saluted the sergeant.  "You do what you have to, Sergeant Barnes, and get back to the fight.  Until then, you take care of yourself."

Bucky's jaw trembled slightly as he nodded at the general.  When the officer left, the young sergeant turned his head and wept, feeling like he was letting everyone down.  As much as he hadn't wanted to fight a war when he was drafted, he also knew that he felt responsible for the well-being of the men in the Howling Commandos.  A part of him felt he was letting them down by leaving.  Lt. Hay arrived shortly after, and removed the Purple Heart, placing it back in the case and packing it with the few things he had.  As two orderlies arrived, they carefully disconnected him from the traction device and prepared him to be transferred to the ambulance for the trip to the airfield.

"You're coming back to England, aren't you?" he asked her.

"Damn right, I am," she replied.  "So is Dr. Waslewski and Major Lambert.  You'll have to put up with all three of us hovering over you on the flight back.  We have a special bed made up on the aircraft that will coddle you like a baby.  If you don't like it, then I'll gladly trade you places for it looks very comfortable."

She smiled at him then and he grinned back.

"Thanks Lieutenant," he said.  "I appreciate the effort."

Nodding at the two orderlies she watched as they carefully transferred him to a gurney then began wheeling him out of the hospital.  Outside, where the ambulance was waiting, they were surprised by the appearance of not just the Howling Commandos but the Phantom Patrol.  Every single one of them said something to Bucky before he was placed in the ambulance, with all of them hoping he would rejoin the fight as soon as he could.  When he got to Dum Dum, the big man grasped his right hand.

"You get back as soon as you can, Bucky," said Dugan.  "They've made me Sergeant in your place, and I don't know if I can fill your shoes."

"You have bigger feet than me," joked the younger man.  "Don't let Cap do anything stupid."

"Haven't been able to stop him before," replied the former circus strong man.  "Do me a favour when you get back to Brooklyn and check on my wife and kids."

"You got it," promised Bucky.

Bradley was next and he also gripped Bucky's right hand, squeezing it firmly.

"You'll be alright," said the Corporal.  "We'll save the hard fights for you."

Howlett came into view and the burly Canadian just grinned.  "It's been a revelation," he said.  "For a city boy you showed a lot of grit in surviving in the wilderness.  Surprised the shit out of me.  Maybe someday, we can sit over a bottle of whiskey and a couple of cigars, trading lies."

"I'd like that, Sarge," said Bucky.  He glanced at Grant, who was talking to Dr. Waslewski.  "Watch out for him.  I didn't trust him at first but he's loyal and he came through for me."

"There was no way he was leaving you there, you know that," answered Howlett.  "We'll see you back with the Commandos in no time at all."

Steve Rogers came up and gazed at his best friend.  "Well, it's not the end of the line but it looks like you're taking a different train for a while," he said.  "Don't do anything stupid."

"How can I when you're taking the stupid with you?" replied Bucky, using their old line.  "Seriously, take care, Steve.  They need you."

For a moment, Bucky thought he saw a shadow cross his friend's face and wondered if this mission coming up was the one where Steven Grant had originally gone missing.  Before he could say anything, Steve subtly shook his head, so Bucky let it go.  It was out of his hands now but if it did happen, he knew that Grant would find Steve.  The man had changed Bucky's future; it was certain he would change Steve's as well.  The final person to say goodbye to Bucky was Steven Grant.  He stood next to the gurney, not sure what to say.

"Give 'em hell," said Bucky, beating him to the punch.  "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I'm sure you will," replied Grant.  "Remember what you told me after Ma died."  Bucky looked at him, puzzled.  "I said I could manage on my own, but you said I didn't have to.  Neither do you.  Let people help you.  You're never alone, Buck."

It was a strange thing to say but Grant didn't give him a chance to respond, squeezing Bucky's hand quickly then stepping back as the orderlies loaded him into the ambulance.  Major Lambert, Dr. Waslewski and Lt. Hay all clambered in with him.  Reminding the driver to take it easy on the ride, the three medical people watched Bucky on the drive to make sure the pain he felt was manageable.  They were soon at the airfield, where he almost laughed out loud at the setup inside the C-47 aircraft that was meant to cushion the flight for him.  It was like being lowered into a fluffy cloud.  Oversized pillows on a large bed enveloped him, keeping him still without putting pressure on any part of his body.  There were two other patients on the flight, not as badly injured as him, but still on a padded stretcher.  Both doctors and the nurse watched over them as well on the 6 ½ hour flight to England, landing near London in the middle of the afternoon.  Within an hour of landing, they arrived back at the base, where Dr. Erskine greeted them with a single word spoken in a way that displayed his distress over Bucky's injuries.

"Sergeant."

"Doc, I'm a lot better than when I fell, and from when I arrived in Rome," stated Bucky.  "I'll be back out there in no time."

"I hope that is true," said the German doctor.  Then he looked Bucky in the eye.  "James, I feel that I failed you.  I was so certain the serum that Special Agent Grant gave you would do wonders.  No doubt it saved your life, but it was unable to work well in the cold, or to regenerate your missing arm.  I must do better."

"It's okay," replied Bucky, touched that Erskine blamed himself for the shortcomings of the serum.  "You'll figure it out and when you do, I'll be ready."

"Of course, you will," smiled the doctor.  "In the meantime, we will get you better and when we get back to New York, we will find a way to get you a new arm.  I promise you."

Over the next few weeks Bucky slowly improved.  His right arm healed enough to remove the cast after a few days although he was unable to lift anything substantial with it for another week after.  His spine and ribs also improved, making it possible for him to sit up in a wheelchair.  Lt. Hay took it upon herself to help Bucky regain his strength, working him through exercises he could do from a sitting position, including lifting weights and talking one of the soldiers on the base into mounting a speed bag onto the wall in their portion of the infirmary.  Set at a height that Bucky could reach she was pleased at the look on his face when he saw it.

"No reason you can't work this with your right arm," she suggested.  "If the serum regrows your left arm Dr. Erskine says it will match it with your right one, as it wants to maintain balance in your physique."

By the time he was able to stand, then walk on his legs, Bucky was certain that he would regain all that he lost from the fall.  In the three weeks he had been on the base in England, he had proven the full healing qualities of the serum worked in concert with the recipient's body and mindset.  His enthusiasm to get back to his unit had helped to almost transform him back to the man he had been before.  All that was left was to fine tune the serum to perform one more miracle; creating flesh and bone out of what didn't exist.  That would be done in New York.

Italy / Germany

After Bucky and the medical staff returned to England, the two SSR units, as well as a large contingent of the United States Army trained for the attack on Johann Schmidt's fortress in the Bavarian Alps of southern Germany.  With a layout provided by Arnim Zola, that closely matched the one Steven Grant remembered from his own time, the plan would see Rogers fighting his way in, then allowing himself to be taken prisoner.  Schmidt's ego would demand that Rogers be brought in front of him in his workroom, as he personally demonstrated his superiority to the American super soldier.  While Schmidt was distracted, the Phantom Patrol would break into the lower regions of the facility, which differentiated it from the one Grant remembered.  Suspecting that it contained another super soldier lab, they would free any prisoners there, then destroy the facility.  They were also to board the Valkyrie aircraft, render it unable to fly, removing Schmidt's main method of escape.  General Phillips would lead the army unit in to deal with the contingent of HYDRA soldiers and take control of the entire headquarters built into the mountain.  The Howling Commandos would rappel in through the windows of Schmidt's workroom, surprising the man and his guard complement.  If the plan worked, then Red Skull would meet his defeat there.  If he managed to get away and this timeline followed Grant's, that would set the stage for the final battle the Red Skull and Captain America.  Either way, the man who led HYDRA would be stopped.

Of course, as Special Agent Grant reminded Steve Rogers, the universe didn't like change and the reality of what happened to Bucky ensured that some things happened the way they did in his timeline.  Everything that Rogers did to get taken to Schmidt transpired the same way, as did the arrival of the Howling Commandos and the attack of the army unit.  But in the lower levels of the mountain the Phantom Patrol came up against something completely unexpected.  They found a super soldier lab, and a baker's dozen occupied cryostasis units, containing twelve men, and one woman.  The men, wearing HYDRA insignia clothing, had no visible documentation as to their identity or nationality.  The woman, estimated to be in her late 20s was blonde, beautiful, and also not identified.

"Get Grant," said Howlett, to Rose.  "Everyone else go through those filing cabinets and find out who these people are."

He looked at the woman, specifically, wondering if she was the one they had been looking for since the raid on the German lab.  There was a code on the front of her cylinder, Subjekt: W1743.  Glancing briefly at the other units he saw all the others had the prefix M after the word Subjekt.  Their number designations were all different, with the first two digits in the teens, and the second two digits either 43, 44, or 45, with a couple having another letter after, and A, a J, and an S for the three with the same code.  Considering that they were located in Germany the first letter designation could be the German equivalent for male and female.

"Raines!" He called over to the tall corporal.  "What is German for male and female?"

"Männlich and weiblich," replied Raines, coming towards him then looking at the face inside the cylinder.  "She's beautiful.  You think the M and W is referring to male and female?  Subjekt is German for subject.  The first part of the numbers is all in the teens.  There can't be that many of them, can there?"

Grant arrived with Rose and looked at the woman in the cylinder.

"You find the files yet?" he asked.

"No, but do you think she looks like Dr. Waslewski?" asked Howlett.  "Could it be her sister?"

Grant reached inside his jacket, to a pocket there and pulled out a small leather pocketbook.  Opening it up he took out a picture of two women, one of whom was Eva.  He held it up next to the face then looked at Howlett and Raines.  Both men nodded in agreement.

"She's 28, so the 17 probably refers to her birth year," said Grant.  "She went missing in 1943."

"All of these men are in their 20s and 30s, so the final two numbers probably refer to the year they became a subject for experimentation," replied Howlett.

"We just need to know if they are Nazi or not."  Grant looked towards a bunch of tall cabinets.  "Find those files.  I want to know before we take them with us or not."

No elaboration was needed.  If the men in the cylinders were Nazis, they would be left behind, buried along with the remains of the base when the explosives were set off.  If they were PoWs then they would be rescued, returned to England and undergo the unfreezing process.  As Howlett and Raines left to search the cabinets for files with the same subject designations Grant looked at the woman who was inside the cylinder.  Who knows what was done to her but he could imagine with her fair looks it had been assumed she was Aryan in heritage.

"Found them!" yelled Raines, in front of a large cabinet with a broken lock.  He pulled out the box marked W1743.  "Anya Waslewski, nationality Polish, occupation, nurse, conscripted into German army in 1941, stationed at Schwarzebitte until November 1943."  He scanned over her file, written in German.  "She wasn't experimented on except for the cryofreezing.  She was to be used for ... breeding.  They fucking assigned her to be the first brood mare for these dozen men."  He read more and his lip curled as he read the file.  "Animals, fucking animals.  That's all they were to them.  The men would compete for the privilege of breeding with her.  A competition and the victor would be allowed to have a child with her."

He looked like he was ready to punch something in his absolute disgust.  Grant squeezed Raines shoulder, acknowledging the anger.

"Look at one of the men's files," he suggested.  "Tell us if they were PoWs or Nazis."

With a nod he pulled out the box marked M1544 and began to read through it.

"Werner Bauer, nationality German, occupation, SS captain, enlisted in the army in 1934, stationed at Dachau."  He looked up at Grant who shook his head.  Putting the file back he shoved the box away and opened another.  "Heinz Fritz, nationality German, occupation, SS lieutenant, stationed at Auschwitz.  No, he doesn't get to live."

Raines pulled every box down and read that every single one of them was in the SS and had been stationed at one of the concentration camps, all of them officers.  There was a 14th box and he pulled that down to the floor, then read the first file before looking up at Grant.

"They were going to send them to Argentina," he said.  "They were setting up a breeding colony, to make an army of super soldiers because they were certain the children would inherit the physical abilities of the father.  Even if they lost the war in Europe, they would rebuild in secret elsewhere.  There's already a place for them.  They were supposed to ship out tomorrow to join their brothers already there.  Even though Anya was Polish they rationalized that her features proved her heritage.  They also kept her because of her expertise in helping to resuscitate people from the freezing process."  He read some more.  "There are other labs, buried within several mountain ranges, not just in Europe.  They knew Dr. Waslewski was in England, and it refers to the attempt to kidnap her after D-Day.  She was supposed to be taken to Argentina to help bring their people out of freezing and to instruct their scientists in the freezing process.  That means the ones there might still be frozen.  If we can get to them before they wake up ...."

"One fight at a time," Grant reminded him.  "We have some people we can assign to go there and keep an eye on them.  They'll be dealt with, I promise you.  In the meantime, bring her file box, bring this file box, destroy the others and anything else you find here.  Burn it all.  I'm going up to the hangar level to sabotage the Valkyrie then we'll get Anya out of here and rig the place to blow."

While he left Raines, Rose and Rumlow behind to destroy the lab, he and the others, Bradley, Murphy, Costello and Howlett, ran up the stairs to the hangar level, hearing the sounds of fighting getting louder the closer they came.  They even got in on the action, taking on several HYDRA soldiers in the stair well, then tossing them down the well-hole, not even watching as they fell to their deaths.  Once upon a time Grant felt something for those men, but after all the depravity he witnessed during his first time around fighting HYDRA, as well as this time, he knew there was no saving them.  All of the research he did on the known members of that organization revealed very few who were there by force or as double agents.  Eva and Anya were forced into it during his timeline, with Eva staying to protect Bucky as best she could, both sisters ultimately paying for it with their lives.  The other handful of people would be part of missions to come, where they would be rescued then recruited into SHIELD to continue the fight against HYDRA's infiltration of that organization.  HYDRA had to be defeated properly this time and they needed many capable hands to do it, not just his, Steve's or Bucky's.

When they burst out of the stairwell into the hangar Grant was troubled to see the American army unit were already there, trying to take on the HYDRA soldiers.  They were pinned down by the blue-pulsing weapons that systematically were being used to destroy their cover.  If they weren't able to get past those soldiers there was no way they were getting on the aircraft to sabotage it.

Before he could order the others to try and flank the HYDRA force, he saw Red Skull running out onto the surface of the hangar, followed by six of his bomb drone pilots.  They boarded the Valkyrie, although several of the pilots fell as they were shot.  Immediately the aircraft began taxiing and Grant started running after it, followed by his men, desperate to take their own shots on the aircraft as it pulled away from them.

"Is that Rogers?" asked Howlett, pointing to a man further down trying to intercept the aircraft but even he was having trouble keeping up as the throttle was applied, increasing the take-off speed.

It was surreal to Grant to watch the General and Peggy Carter race towards the aircraft in Schmidt's roadster, picking Rogers up on the way.  Even as the Special Agent and his men raced towards the opening signalling the end of the runway, they could all see Captain America make his leap onto the aircraft's wheel, then disappear into the belly of the plane, and watch it fly into the sky.  The roadster, sliding dangerously towards the edge of the runway, turned sideways then backwards.

"Keep going!" Grant yelled to the others.  "We may have to rescue those two."

Fortunately, the car stopped, its back end hanging dangerously off the edge.  The five of them reached it within moments, and pulled it back onto the flat surface, where the General looked carefully at Grant from where he sat behind the driver's wheel.

"Tell me you were able to sabotage the aircraft," he drawled.

"We didn't get to it," answered Grant.  "We were delayed.  Rogers is on his own.  We did find something in the lower levels that Zola conveniently left out.  A super soldier lab, 12 men and a woman in cryostasis cylinders, set to be transported to Argentina to a base there.  There are more labs.  The woman is Dr. Waslewski's sister."

"The men?" asked Phillips.

"All Nazis, SS officers who were part of the concentration camp system," replied Grant.  He looked back at the long tunnel they just came out of.  "What are your plans for the aircraft in there?"

"I was going to take them," said the officer.  "What are your plans for the 12 men?"

"I was going to leave them here and blow the whole place to kingdom come," replied Grant.  He looked at his watch.  "You better get to the radio room.  Rogers will be able to talk to you soon."  He looked at Peggy.  "Are you okay?"  She nodded.  "Go, talk to him, be the voice he needs to hear when he takes it down.  We'll find him, I promise you."

Several vehicles came up driven by the Howling Commandos.  Grant broke the news that he wasn't able to get on board the Valkyrie first to sabotage it.  Without saying anything more they all knew it meant that Rogers would be on his own and would likely sacrifice himself to take the aircraft down.  As they all headed back into the structure, Grant sat in the front of the roadster with the General.  It was obvious he was angry with himself.

"We should have taken the hangar first," he finally said.  "I could have done more."

"I seem to have heard from someone that the universe doesn't like being tampered with," stated the General, his eyes forward.  "You did what you could to change things but even I know that if I jerk this steering wheel too hard that I can lose control and crash this beast.  You changed Dr. Waslewski's future, and now you've changed her sister's.  Sergeant Barnes will not become the man he became in your timeline.  You've alerted us about the wolf in sheep's clothing that is Dr. Zola, and about the HYDRA supporters currently in the American military and government.  Now we know the location of more labs and bases.  I would say you've done more than anyone in this fight, Steven.  You've made a believer out of me and that's damn near impossible.  Rogers will be alright.  I believe that and we will prevail."

Grant nodded in acknowledgement.  It was still a bitter pill to swallow, even though he thought he had prepared himself for the inevitability of Steve still ending up in the ice.  At least with Eva and Anya safe, they would be able to get him through the thawing process.  Another thought came to him just before they pulled up to the entry into the radio room.  He stepped out of the roadster and looked back at the long runway.

This was new ground.  He was alive and now in charge of two special service units dedicated to the fight against HYDRA, that included five super soldiers and a mutant soldier that they didn't have when he went down in 1945.  Dr. Erskine was still alive, and that, more than anything, filled Grant with hope that perhaps this time they would get it done.  HYDRA would cease to exist in this timeline.  It's how it had to be.

Chapter Text

It had been almost two weeks since Bucky returned to New York on a hospital ship with Dr. Erskine, but just a day since he learned from the doctor that Steve went down with the Valkyrie. The news, which was being kept from the public, would only be released once he was found and on his way to New York, as the search was already on for him, a search being conducted by Howard Stark. Even though Grant gave him the coordinates to the glacier in the heart of Greenland where he ditched the aircraft, the area wasn't accessible by ship. Instead, they had to employ the local residents to transport them to the site, a trip of several days in brutal weather. Then there would be several more days needed to safely extract Steve's frozen body and transport it back to the coast where Stark's ship waited. The plan was to keep him frozen until his return to New York, where Dr. Waslewski and her rescued sister, Eva were already en route, along with Lt. Hay and Peggy Carter. Dr. Waslewski would make sure that Steve was thawed out safely, just like she did to the four pilots they rescued from Schwarzebitte, and her sister, overseeing his care in New York. Major Lambert was staying in England, in the event they came across any other PoWs who had been forced to take the serum, attending to their needs.

When Bucky was sent on the hospital ship after two weeks recovery in England, he knew the mission was still pending. He and Dr. Erskine arrived in New York two days before the mission date only to face an information blackout imposed on both of them. It was only yesterday that the truth was finally shared and neither man appreciated being kept out of the loop, making their displeasure known to the colonel in charge at SSR headquarters. A knock on the door of the Barnes household bathroom startled Bucky as he relived the anger he felt at the self-important officer.

"Do you need help?" asked his mother through the closed door, making the young man shake his head, irritated at the question.

"I'm not helpless, Ma," he answered. "I'm just missing an arm, not the ability to shave."

"Don't you take that tone with me," she responded. "I'm just offering, that's all."

Bucky let out a frustrated breath, feeling guilty. Since he got back his mother had hovered over him as if he was an invalid. She meant well but it was suffocating him. Opening the door, he looked at the woman who cried for an hour when he returned, thankful her son was alive after his horrific fall, but heartbroken that he wasn't whole anymore.

"I'm sorry," he told her, sincerely. "The doctors say I have to do for myself as much as I can and that includes shaving with one hand. You have to let me do it. If I need help with anything more, I'll ask for it."

She pursed her lips and nodded at him, heading down the stairs to the kitchen. It was obvious she was upset at him. His dad came out of the bedroom and placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

"She's trying, she really is," he said. "It will take her time to adjust to your new situation."

"I'm still adjusting myself," said Bucky. "The latest serum sample isn't ready to test yet, and Stark is out searching for Steve so he can't work on his new artificial arm." He stopped; aware he had just let classified information slip. His dad searched Bucky's face, so the younger man pulled his father into the bathroom. "Steve crashed in Greenland somewhere with an aircraft full of bombs meant for cities on this side of the Atlantic. He's alive, but likely frozen in the wreckage. It hasn't been made public yet until they're on their way back with him. Stark is in charge of the search party. I just found out yesterday. You can't tell anyone, not even Ma or Rebecca."

"The serum is keeping him alive, like it did you?"

Bucky nodded, as he had told his father everything about HYDRA experimenting on him, and the new abilities he had, as well as falling off the train and staying alive in the freezing cold of the mountain chasm. He even told him about Steven Grant, who he really was and how he came back to prevent Bucky's fate from that timeline. His father had been understandably upset about that outcome. The biggest surprise to Bucky, after telling his father about killing the wolf, then giving up and wanting to die rather than live a broken life, had been how his father cried for what Bucky went through. Having gone through the Great War himself, and still prone to bouts of depression from it, George Barnes had understood the trust his son had in him to confide all of the turmoil he went through while he waited for rescue. It had brought the two men together in a way that hadn't seemed possible before the war.

"Well, he'll come through, I'm sure of it," said the elder Barnes. "Steve could have died many times as a child and young man, but he pulled through with that great heart of his. He'll pull through this." He looked at his son's chin, then grinned. "You missed a spot."

Bucky smiled back at his dad, then looked in the mirror, noticing the small patch of stubble that was there. If there was one thing he still didn't like about the serum, it was how fast it made his hair and beard grow. Before the war he could go for several days before this much stubble appeared on his face. Now it was an everyday occurrence. He had a haircut just before he left England almost two weeks ago and it looked like he would need another before the end of the week to keep it military length. As his dad went on downstairs Bucky shaved the last bit off then rinsed his face and worked the stopper out on the aftershave bottle with his right hand, pouring a little of the liquid into a spare soap dish. Using his fingers, he dipped into it and patted it over his face and neck, before turning on the tap and rinsing the dish.

Returning to his room he got dressed, slipping on the tie that was already done up, then tightening it up with one hand. He finished with his jacket then tightened the outer belt, using the tricks that another amputee, a British veteran who worked on the base, had shown him. They had even sneaked off the base together for drinks the night before he left, where the man told him all sorts of things about living with one arm, including managing the world of women. Whether Bucky would use them was another matter as he already noticed how the neighbours and other acquaintances looked at him. Many of the women he dated before the war had stopped by to say hello and it seemed they could barely wait to get out of the house, after the conversation faltered.

"Thanks, Ma," he said, as she gestured to his plate of breakfast on the table. "Looks good."

His father and Rebecca joined him, digging into their food.

"I spoke to Mr. Goldstein," said his dad, after a time. "He said there's a two-bedroom furnished flat available in his building across the street. Thought you might be interested in it. You and Steve could live there when he gets back, since the war is looking like it's winding down. It would give you both some more freedom as young men."

"Why should he pay for his own place when he can live at home with us?" snapped his mother, her voice sounding peevish. She turned to look at him. "You don't want to live at home?"

"Ma, I'm almost 28 and should have my own place," said Bucky. "Besides, how am I going to entertain the ladies if I don't have my own place?"

Rebecca smirked, earning a pretend glare from Bucky, but she didn't stop. "If Bucky moves, can I have his room? It's bigger than mine."

"He's not moving," said Winnie. "George, stop giving him ideas."

Bucky smacked his fork down on the table, suddenly angry. "Will you ever let me be a man?" he asked his mother. Her face trembled as he took his frustration out on her. He knew he had gone too far but if he didn't get it out now, it would come out in a worse way, and he never wanted her to see that. "It's bad enough that most of the women I used to go out with before the war look at me now and see that I'm missing an arm. I don't want their pity and I don't want your pity, either. If they see I can't even live on my own without help what woman will want me? For God's sake, let me try to look after myself without you babying me."

He stood up, grabbed his cap and headed out the door, feeling his face burn from the humiliation of having his mother treat him like a boy. By the time he made it to the subway stop he felt almost sick with shame at blowing up at his mother like that, but it seemed like he couldn't stop himself from treating her that way. On the train he sat in the corner, away from people, as he found it hard to filter out their conversations now that he could hear so much better. It seemed like here in the city, he could hear more than what he heard on the English base. Every day his heightened senses allowed him to hear people discuss how sad it was that such a fine young man lost his arm in the war. A couple of times he had met an acquaintance on the train, and they all danced around the obvious, having seen the reports of his fall and injuries on the newsreels, reports that sanitized the extent of his suffering. In many ways, he wished one of them would have the courage to just ask how he was, except he was afraid he would bite their head off for what he saw as fake concern.

By the time he got to the SSR headquarters in the city, he was determined to telephone his mother and apologize for his behaviour. Perhaps he could get her some flowers to help smooth over his outburst. After he checked in with the MPs desk, he headed down to the basement, where Dr. Erskine's lab was. It was part of his assignment to undergo a daily check-in process where they would assess his partial limb, trying to determine if there was any sign of regrowth. So far, there had been nothing, although all of his other injuries had healed, except for the injury inflicted on his pride.

"James," exclaimed the doctor, initially pleased at seeing him, then becoming concerned when he saw the stress Bucky was obviously showing. "Come in, sit. Tell me, what is it that has you bothered this morning?"

He entered the office and sat in the chair, grateful when Dr. Erskine closed the door and sat across from him. The older man's concern was genuine, making it easier to talk to him.

"I yelled at my mother, more than once," said Bucky. "She keeps trying to do everything for me, even when I say I have to do things myself. My dad brought up me getting my own place and it was like she didn't think I could manage living on my own or even with a roommate, like Steve. I love her but it feels like she wants to keep me dependent on her."

Dr. Erskine nodded his head. "Mothers can be that way," he said. "When I was much younger my own mother tried to set me up with the daughter of our local banker. She was certain I would see that Esther would be a suitable wife, even with the way she laughed like a braying donkey. I am not certain the real object of Esther's affections, the son of the butcher, would have let my mother have her way."

"What did you do?" asked Bucky.

"Helped them elope and drove them to the train station so they could get to the coast, where a ship to America was leaving from," he smiled. "I believe they live in New Jersey, have six children and are more than happy with each other." Bucky chuckled. "Now, what else happened?"

"I'm having trouble getting used to my senses," he admitted. "I can hear people talking about me in the neighbourhood and on the train. They notice the arm is gone and even though I'm still wearing the uniform and coming in every day it seems like they don't believe I'll be able to function." He looked down at where his cap sat on his knee. "Most of the women I dated before the war, those that are still single, don't treat me the same as they did before. I'm not sure I'm that man anymore."

"Of course, you're not that man," said Erskine, gently. "Despite the changes in your body you have also changed. You underwent a traumatic experience, and it will leave its mark on you. What's important is how you deal with it. Have you spoken to your own father about his experiences with the First World War?"

"A little," replied Bucky. "He still has issues but not as much as when I was younger. He drank a lot then to deal with it, but that's not going to be possible with me, is it?"

"No, you will be unable to lessen the thoughts with alcohol which is for the better as it isn't a good way to deal with your demons," admitted Erskine. "Do you have nightmares?" Bucky nodded. "Memories of things that happened on the battlefield?" He nodded again. "Do you remember your fall and the wait for rescue?"

"Yeah." Bucky's voice was quiet but still loaded with a sense of the despair he sometimes felt. "Will it ever get better?"

"I don't know," said Erskine, just as quietly. "My understanding is that in the First World War those feelings were considered a mental defect, a fault of the person who was suffering, and it is a form of suffering. Your father must be an incredible man to be able to offer you comfort, having gone through it himself."

Bucky smiled slightly. "Yeah, I was angry at him when I was younger, but when I got drafted, he talked to me a little about what he went through and once I experienced war for myself, I began to understand how it affected him. Even in the time I've been back it's been better with him. I can talk to him about anything, just like I can talk to you."

"That's good," said the doctor. "Talking is good. Keep talking to him and to me. I'm here to help you, James. Believe that." He swallowed. "Which is why I am going to be truthful to you. The serum amplifies what is in the man. A good man will become better, even great, with the serum. While the serum you received was not a pure form, it still amplified your physical abilities, but it didn't destroy the good things that were in you, loyalty, the need to protect those you love, and a desire to be of help. Those qualities also helped you survive the ordeal you suffered."

"But?" Bucky looked at him with a little bit of fear in his eyes.

"I suspect that the HYDRA serum is in conflict with my serum," said Erskine. "Although they were similar in nature, they are just different enough to think the other serum is an intruder and they are fighting for control of the host, you. Although you look and feel relatively well, your blood work shows that your body is fighting something and that is taking away the resources needed to regrow your arm. It may also be fuelling and perhaps amplifying the doubts you feel about yourself."

Bucky looked at his arm then at the doctor again, wondering if that meant he was still destined to become the Winter Soldier of Steven Grant's timeline. It must have shown on his face because Erskine put his hands forward and grasped Bucky's right hand, patting it in an attempt to be comforting.

"It just means that you may require the same treatment that Steven had; simultaneous injections of the pure serum, followed by exposure to the Vita-Rays, to stimulate your body to regrow your arm. For it to work, you have to believe in yourself, and right now you are doubting whether you will ever regain that which you lost. There is no magic formula that will make you believe in yourself. One day you aren't ready, the next day you are, and then you will be confident enough to undergo this final trial. I won't give it to you until you are ready."

Bucky felt a sting of disappointment at that pronouncement, thinking that he might never feel that way, and then what would he do? The disappointment must have been evident because Dr. Erskine stepped back to his desk and pulled out a bottle of whisky, pouring a little out for himself and for Bucky. He handed him the glass.

"This is my promise to you, James. No one has to know that you aren't ready to take that step. If I am asked what the delay is, I will say it is because the serum isn't ready, which is true right now, or that the equipment requires more adjustments to your body, which can only be done when Howard Stark returns, or even that I am still unsure of its chance of success. While I am as sure as I was with Steven that it will work, there is a chance that my own enthusiasm is misguided. Regenerating a limb might be beyond the capabilities of the serum."

Bucky sipped his whisky, appreciating the taste as it warmed his throat. Then he looked at the kind face of Dr. Abraham Erskine and smiled at him. He was a good man, who had been honest with Bucky right from the first moment they met. That he was being brutally honest right now wasn't lost on him. Erskine wanted it to work but the best chance of it working was for Bucky to be in the best state of mind and right now, he wasn't. He took a deep breath.

"Alright, I'll work on improving my attitude," he promised. "Can I ask you something? Did you have family?"

He saw a flutter of pain pass over the doctor's face. "Ja, I had a family," he said softly. "Schmidt kept them prisoner to force me to work for him. Said that once the serum was successful, they would be let go." He sipped his drink and looked at his glass. "He lied. When the serum reacted the way it did on him, he had them killed, even though I told him it wasn't ready. Then he ordered me to get back to the drawing board."

Quietly, he sipped more of his whisky, his face betraying the misery he still felt over the loss of his family.

"You must miss them," said Bucky. "Before the war I didn't know there was such evil in the world, but you saw it first-hand just with Schmidt. We saw it more in Schwarzbitte and Auschwitz, definitely in that factory where I was first a prisoner in Austria. Would you have given him the serum if it was ready?"

"No." Erskine shook his head. "I only wanted to make something that enhanced the natural abilities of any man or woman. It was never meant to create a race of super beings that could be exploited to conquer the world. That is when I knew I could never provide him with a serum for he wanted it to create more soldiers in his own image. I was fortunate to be rescued when I was, but I had to leave behind most of my work, resources that Zola used to formulate his serum. I kept the most important parts up here." He tapped his head. "But it wasn't enough to stop him, and you have suffered because of it. The serum was never meant to be used by a madman."

"The man they were going to give it to instead of Steve," began Bucky. "Would he ...?"

Erskine put his hand on Bucky's arm and shook his head. He drained his glass and stood up. Bucky finished his glass, leaving it on Dr. Erskine's desk.

"As long as I'm alive, I will make sure that the serum doesn't go to any Tom, Dick, or Harry," said the doctor. "Those other men who were given a form of it have proven their worth as good men, as have you. I know it was given to you against your will, but you are a good man, James. No matter if you get the full treatment or not. Nothing will change that."

"I'm alive and I'm not a prisoner in HYDRA's lab right now, being experimented on and tortured," said Bucky. "Your serum still saved me, better than the serum Zola gave me. I have a way to go before I'm ready to take the full treatment but when I am you have my word that I will do all I can to destroy HYDRA, permanently. I'll also help you make sure that the use of the serum is only to those who are worthy."

He left the doctor and checked in with the nurse who was charged with taking his readings and measurements. An older woman, she was kind enough, but Bucky missed Lt. Hay and her no-nonsense treatment of him. She would be in New York soon enough and a part of him looked forward to her arrival; to all of the women's arrivals actually. He was happy for Dr. Waslewski that the mission had located and rescued her sister. Both of them were going to be focused on Steve's recovery when he finally arrived in New York. That left him wondering why Peggy Carter was being sent back. The General must have ordered her directly, as he couldn't see her voluntarily leaving the fight, unless .... He smiled then. She must really love Steve to be here, waiting for him, instead of being there without him.

After completing his check-in, Bucky stepped out of the SSR office, going for lunch then to a florist and purchasing a bouquet of flowers for his mother. As he walked back to the office, he stopped to buy a newspaper, disturbed by the headline that had attracted his attention.

POSSIBLE TRAITORS IN OUR MIDST

It took reading only a few sentences before he realized that the article was about himself, and the four pilots who had received the German version of the super soldier serum. The writer of the article claimed an exclusive source had told him that the Howling Commandos had been duped into allowing a certain sergeant and two lieutenants, pilots, all men who had been part of the enemy's super soldier project, into their unit. The same source said two other unnamed lieutenants were part of a more secret unit fighting against HYDRA, hinting that all of their loyalties were suspect. Knowing that they referred to himself, Lieutenants Grady, O'Neill, Murphy and Costello, Bucky fumed as he continued reading the article. It ended with a teaser for more exclusive information about another forthcoming article concerning a top secret allied program to relocate the greatest scientific minds captured from the German and HYDRA enemy and bringing them to the United States to apply their scientific knowledge to the American war effort. That teaser ended with the hint that there were sure to be spies included in the number of scientists, specifically female spies, similar to Mata Hari, of the First World War fame. It didn't take much for Bucky to realize they were likely referring to Dr. Waslewski and her sister. In a huff he looked up, only then seeing the face of one of the MPs who sometimes manned the check-in station at the office, wearing a civilian suit, watching him. The man turned away when Bucky noticed him.

"What the hell?" he muttered, approaching closer.

By the time he got to where the man was, he had disappeared. For several minutes, he looked around at the various people walking on the sidewalk, checking out doorways and columns to see if the man reappeared but he didn't. When he entered the SSR building, he signed the register as he checked in, then looked at one of the MPs, Chatham, a man he had known from Brooklyn.

"What's up Bucky?" he asked. "You look irritated at something." Bucky showed him the newspaper article, watching as the man's lip curled. "You think they're referring to you?"

"I'm the only sergeant who was forced to take super soldier serum by the enemy," stated Bucky. "How long have we known each other, Mickey? Grade school, right? Man to man, Brooklyn boy to Brooklyn boy, are you guys under orders to watch me?"

Corporal Chatham lowered his voice, leaning close to Bucky. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Private Richards was tailing me out there," replied Bucky, "and not in uniform, either. This shit was flying around about me right from when I was first rescued from that HYDRA factory in Austria. The General himself cleared me of any suspicion and the guy who was spreading it was revealed to be a HYDRA plant. I almost died out there, Mickey, even with the serum. I've been home a couple of weeks and it seems the rumours are starting again."

"Yeah, someone from Army CIC said you were to be watched," admitted Chatham, still speaking in a lower register. "Not sure who but I'll see what I can find out. I wouldn't do it, but Richards is enough of a brown noser that he agreed to tail you. The fact you made him shows how bad he is at the job. Look, the rest of us know you're on the level, Bucky. Hell, to survive out there like you did, regardless of the serum, means you're a hell of a guy. Someone has it in for you, that's all I know."

He gave Bucky an understanding smile, then stepped back to his position, giving all appearances of being the military policeman he was supposed to be. Picking up the newspaper, Bucky returned to the lab, dropping the newspaper in front of Dr. Erskine. As he read the headline and accompanying article, his own face darkened and he looked up at Bucky, before putting a finger on his lips. Writing something out on a piece of paper he showed it to the sergeant, who nodded at the message, then Erskine lit a match, burning it.

"Thank you for bringing me the newspaper, Sergeant," he said in a normal voice. "I don't have need of you anymore today. I assume you want to take those flowers home for your mother. You should get them into water as soon as possible. Why don't you go on home, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Doc," replied Bucky, playing along.

He left the building, heading towards the subway, keeping his senses alert to the presence of anyone following him. As he boarded the first subway car for the trip to Brooklyn, he noticed the suit of Richards, the sleeve of it visible as he waited behind a post in the station. Just as the other man boarded the car behind Bucky's he stepped off, a second before all the train car doors shut and the train began moving. Standing on the platform, he smirked at Richards as his car moved past, adding a cheeky nod to the man. Heading back up to the street he took a taxi to another address, the one Dr. Erskine wrote down on a piece of paper and showed him, along with a name, before burning it. The address, a residential tower, was in the heart of Manhattan. The doorman there looked at Bucky, expectantly.

"Who are you visiting in the building, sir?" he asked politely.

"The resident in the penthouse," replied Bucky. "A Mr. Jarvis?"

"Mr. Jarvis is Mr. Stark's butler," replied the doorman. "Mr. Stark is not in residence at the moment."

"Well, this is where I was told to come," countered the sergeant. "Could you please check with Mr. Jarvis?"

Stepping inside, the doorman allowed Bucky to accompany him to a desk where he picked up the receiver from a wall phone and dialled a number.

"Jarvis, there is a gentleman here, a sergeant in the United States Army who says ... very well, I will send him up." He smiled at Bucky. "He's expecting you. Take the elevator to the 20th floor. Mr. Stark's penthouse is 20A."

It was all very cloak and dagger to Bucky, but something told him that it was all related to the rumours that were going around about him. When the elevator opened to the penthouse floor, he was surprised to see a door opposite the elevator already opened, with a man waiting for him.

"Sergeant Barnes? Please come in," said the man, noticing the flowers. "I'm Edwin Jarvis, Mr. Stark's butler. Were you followed?"

"No, I lost the guy on the subway," he replied. "He won't be able to get off until he crosses the East River. What's going on?"

Jarvis closed the door behind Bucky and led him into the large and very expensive looking penthouse. The windows alone gave a view of Manhattan that almost took his breath away. Then several people who were sitting with their backs to him, near the window, stood up and turned towards Bucky.

"Grant? Murphy, Costello? When did you get here?"

"Late last night," replied Grant. "The General sent us here on one of those HYDRA jets from Red Skull's home base. It was easy for these two to learn to pilot and it was a very quick flight. You saw the newspaper article. I'm afraid it won't be the last one. You're being targeted. We think Dr. Zola wants you back."

"But I thought he was taken by Army CIC?" said Bucky.

"So did we," said Grant. He shook his head in a mixture of anger and disgust. "Whoever took him was a HYDRA plant and no one knows where he is. We suspect they know Erskine is alive and that he's working on preparing you for the full serum treatment. They're trying to stop it because if you go through with it, you won't be able to be turned. When we're done with all the enemy bases, you'll be the only known survivor of the HYDRA serum and they're not giving you up easily."

Bucky was staggered by the news. His first thought was of his family, and he looked at Grant anxiously.

"My parents, Rebecca ... are they in danger?" he asked. "I was followed by Richards wearing a civilian suit. Chatham said I was being targeted."

"Don't worry, they're not in danger," said Grant. "Richards is actually working for us." He shrugged. "He's kind of a red herring for HYDRA to follow and is purposefully being visible in the hopes they think he's one of them. We're hoping we can smoke out the HYDRA supporters in New York. Not even Chatham knows that. He and several others are under orders that no one gets into the SSR that doesn't belong there, although we're sure there are some already there."

The phone rang and Jarvis answered it, then came out to the living room area. "Dr. Erskine is on his way up. I'll make coffee for you all. Would you like Mr. Stark to be involved in the meeting?"

"He's in Greenland, isn't he?" asked Bucky, even more confused at what was going on.

"He's on his way back with Steve," said Grant. "We've been giving out false intelligence on the search for him. We weren't going to announce he was found for another week. They should be docking overnight but this newspaper article appearing in today's papers is forcing our hand. We may have to make the announcement earlier."

"Steve ... he's, okay?" Bucky couldn't help but feel some fear for his friend.

"He's still frozen but he'll be fine," smiled Grant. "It's why we didn't tell either of you the truth about Steve's arrival or the ladies, for that matter. They're also arriving tonight, and Eva and Anya will take care of him, as will Lt. Hay. In a couple of days, he'll be walking and talking. As for Stark, he's got quite the radio setup here and on his ship. Contact him please, Jarvis. He should be informed of the updates."

It seemed that in the time since Bucky returned home all sorts of things had been happening in the background, things he hadn't noticed because he had been preoccupied with his own issues. The thought that HYDRA was still going to try and take him was sobering, as he thought that once he was found in the mountains that his future was set. Then he remembered something he heard when he was still in the hut in Austria, a moment when Grant seemed to lose hope and went outside, after Bucky snapped at him, as his own mind was clouded by pain and his own misery.

Corporal Rose, that strange Romani soldier, had followed Grant outside. Bucky never meant to listen to them, but his senses, even with the pain he was suffering from, were so heightened that he couldn't help but hear the two men talk.

"The universe doesn't like it when someone tries to change it, and it fights back."

Rose had said that to Grant. At the time Bucky wasn't sure what was meant by that or by part of Grant's response.

"To save him, he still has to go through this; that's the price that has to be paid. Because you're right, the fate he originally had isn't letting go of him without a fight."

Steven Grant was fighting against something bigger than a person, or an organization, or a country. He was fighting against Bucky's fate in his original timeline. It was further proof of this man being the Steve he grew up with, the little guy who always stood up to those bigger than himself, because it was the right thing to do. Everything in Bucky's life had come easily to him, friendship, school, women. He never really had to learn to stand up to adversity, although he never backed down from a fight when he had to. Steve had to fight for everything from the moment he was born and right now, he was fighting for Bucky. He came back from 2023 just for this fight. Even though it made Bucky care about Steven Grant as much as he cared about Steve Rogers, he still had that one dark thought, worrying itself at the back of his mind. Was he even worth all of this?

Chapter Text

The first thing Dr. Erskine did when he arrived at Howard Stark's penthouse was to apologize to Bucky for not letting him know in advance about the misinformation campaign on Steve's recovery, nor about the rumours about him that were coming. The younger man accepted the apology but by the way he held his jaw tightly and the flicker of a muscle on the side of his cheek, the doctor knew he had likely undone some or all of the trust he had built with the young sergeant. All through the radio meeting with Howard Stark, and with the addition of General Phillips using a secure telephone line connected to a speaker, Bucky glowered. It was only after the meeting ended and Bucky went out onto the terrace to get some fresh air did he finally get an official explanation from one of two men who was behind it all.

A glass of scotch was placed on a table beside Bucky where he was leaning against the terrace railing, looking out over the view of Manhattan that had so impressed him upon his arrival at the penthouse. He looked up from the hand holding it to see Steven Grant.

"Don't be angry at Dr. Erskine," he said bluntly. "It was my decision not to fill you in. General Phillips concurred."

"Why?" Bucky didn't touch the glass. "After all we went through in Austria, you think I'm a security risk?"

"No, not at all," replied Grant, emphatically. "Are you going to drink that? It's 30-year-old scotch and meant as a peace offering."

"Haven't decided," answered Bucky, looking back over the skyline. "So, once again. Why was I kept in the dark?"

"For your own protection. I know it's not much of an answer. We wanted you to focus on getting better, not worrying about the search for Steve."

"He's my friend," answered Bucky. "I worry about him often. You knew this would happen."

"So did he," said Grant. "He was prepared for it and Howard was as close as he could be to the site. Besides, I was a bit worried about you."

"Me," smirked Bucky. "I'm fine."

"Buck, something I never really understood in my timeline after you were a prisoner in the Austrian factory was that the experience changed you. It messed with your head, affected your confidence, made you more reckless."

Bucky snorted. "Says the pot calling the kettle black. I just followed Steve, because he was still the guy sticking his nose into the thick of the fight and I still felt protective enough over him to try and keep him out of trouble. Tell me something, Grant. Why did you really come back in time? The me in your time wouldn't be affected by what you're doing now, right? I've read enough science fiction to know that you can't change the past to change your present because when you do that starts a new timeline. The old one still goes on, just without you in it. So, we're in a new timeline, while your friend Bucky in 2023, still has a metal arm, still was the HYDRA assassin trying to forget what he once was, and he's living in a new century without his supposed best friend by his side. The Steve I grew up with wouldn't have left me on my own."

Bucky watched the face of the older version of Steve. His fair skin couldn't hide the colour that covered it in a pink glow. He didn't answer and Bucky started to turn away, not willing to listen anymore.

"Guilt," said Grant suddenly. "That and I didn't fit in. I tried, God knows I tried, but I felt out of place there. I felt lost there like I didn't belong. I asked you to come back with me, but your arm would have set you apart even more here than it did there." He turned his back on the view, leaning back against the terrace wall. "I always blamed myself for what happened to you because I didn't try to find your body. Perhaps if I had I would have found you first and kept you out of their hands."

"Bullshit," replied Bucky. "What are you not telling me?"

"That's the truth, Buck. I swear." He looked away again and Bucky grabbed him by the collar.

"There's more. What the hell are you keeping from me?"

"I lost you again!" Grant pulled away. "We ... the people I worked with ... the Avengers, kind of a Howling Commandos unit but made up of extraordinary men, women and a god, were up against an extraterrestrial force. We lost and their leader literally snapped his fingers to make half the population disappear. You dissolved in front of me, Buck. After all I went through to get you out of HYDRA, to find someone who could fix you, and then you were gone in seconds. Five more years of guilt from losing not just you, but other friends, and half the population of Earth. People were angry at me and the others who survived, even though we fought as hard as we could ... it wasn't enough. I gave up until we got another chance to bring everyone back. Except, fate had other plans and we had to fight that extraterrestrial guy again. Even though we won this time, we lost some good people in the process and I was done. I couldn't stay there anymore. It just became too hard, and I wanted simple. At least, I thought I did."

"But it wasn't simple, was it?" asked Bucky, quietly. "The universe doesn't like it when someone tries to change it, and it fights back. Must be a thing of the serum that I can remember the exact words of conversations I wasn't meant to hear."

"You heard us talking?"

"Yeah, I heard. I was in too much pain to really understand what Rose was saying at the time but in the last few days I've wondered why I feel the way I do, why I'm not fine. Other guys lose a limb, and they get back up on their feet and go on with life but I'm still struggling. You grew up struggling with your health issues so when you got this new body it was like everything was suddenly easy for you. I grew up not having to struggle much and the first time I experience a setback I can't get past it, no matter how much you or Steve, or any of the others try to help. So, either I'm not really that good of a person, or fate is trying to restore what you've changed." He shrugged, grimacing a little. "Or maybe a combination of the two. Then to find out that I'm being left out of the loop on things that affect me, because the guy I thought had my back is trying to protect me ... how else am I supposed to feel?"

Grant sighed audibly, turning back to look over the view.

"In the future they call it PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder," he stated. "I have it, so did you then and now. It's all part of how a soldier, or anyone really who has experienced a traumatic situation, deals with it. Everyone is different but it all comes from the same place. Some people drink to handle it, like your dad did. Others get angry and strike out and push people away. Others talk about it, stop hiding behind the walls they put up and eventually find a way to live with it. In the 21st century I dealt with it by myself, hitting a punching bag over and over until I broke it. I think I went through 20 bags in the first week after I woke up in 2011. Then I was convinced to join the Avengers and that kept it at bay, until those five years after we lost. I was in my own head a lot and I thought if I came back here, took up with Peggy, have the life I thought I always wanted that I would feel better. Except it was an endless loop because it seemed that I let the Steve that froze in the ice in 1945, stay there until he was found in 2011, and he kept going back, never trying to change anything, so the timeline never changed, until I learned something. I found out that on the last return here before this one, we succeeded in having someone near you while you were in HYDRA. It was Eva, as she was part of the team that transitioned you in and out of cryosleep. She was there because HYDRA killed her sister, Anya, for being kind to you. I guess Eva was a SHIELD agent, the successor to the SSR, but because it was already infiltrated by HYDRA, she never really had a chance to get you out. She was betrayed, they ordered you to kill her, and you did, not willingly, but quickly so that she wouldn't suffer."

Bucky's horrified look stopped Grant for a moment, but he shook his head, not showing any blame for what that Bucky had to do.

"You decided this time to change everything?" asked the younger man.

"It started with keeping Dr. Erskine alive, but I needed Howard Stark's help to do it, so I had to tell him what your future self did to his parents to get him to cooperate. I was going to try and get Peggy back, but when I saw her, I realized I didn't love her the way I did then. Plus, I'm a lot older than her now, not just in calendar years, but in how I look at things. She and Steve deserved to have each other the way it should have been. Then it seemed to snowball from there. Bradley, Eva, Anya, Sousa, even Rumlow are all people who were affected by HYDRA or by the serum in one way or another. Rose is helping because the future Bucky who escaped from HYDRA helped a Roma community against some Russian mobsters and his clairvoyant aunt told him he had to help me. Raines was a lucky find; an American who could speak Polish, German, and Russian, and he joined the British Army before the Americans got involved in the war. He was also at the same factory and saw firsthand what HYDRA did to people. The four pilots that were in cryosleep weren't in my timeline so part of me believes we found them because they were needed. Howlett was present in my timeline, but I didn't know about him as he was part of another group, the X-Men, a team made up of mutants. I figured with his background and war experience he would agree to be involved. He was a tough one to convince but he's the right man although I'm going to miss him when we lose him."

"What happens to him?" asked Bucky.

"He'll be killed," said Grant. "Not sure when or how, but I'll have to leave him because it takes time for his body to regenerate, and he won't remember who he is for some time. I'll leave his file with him, so he has a starting point. Hopefully, he can stay away from a certain person and change his own future a bit to something he has more control over."

"That's a lot of responsibility for a guy who came back to a simpler life," commented Bucky wryly.

Grant smirked. "Tell me about it. You're still my priority, Buck, but I have to keep HYDRA out of SHIELD. I have to end them before the year is out. If they get a deeper foothold I don't know if I can stop them. Even though we stopped them in 2014 they did so much damage to the world in the interim, and their remnants kept on doing damage for some time. I never wanted to kill anyone when I first got the serum, but HYDRA ... they won't go away if they're just defeated. They'll lick their wounds, and hide in the darkness, growing like a toxic fungus until they burst out again."

"How did you find out about Eva and the others?" asked Bucky. "I mean, you have all this future information, but you have paper files as well. I saw the one with Sousa's name on it, on your desk and you just said you have Howlett's files. Were you able to bring it all back with you?"

"In a way," replied Grant. "Information in the future is stored electronically. A device about the size of my thumb can hold thousands of pages of information when it's been reduced to its most basic state. I mean thoughts exist, right? But we don't see them ... we just have them in our head, thousands of them, ready to recall. I don't know how else to explain it. I gave the device to an organization that is so secret I can't really tell you more, but they have the ability of turning that information back into paper files. They gave me some more information as well, in the future. That's how I found out about Howlett. HYDRA documented almost every single thing they ever did to you and to everyone else, including Eva and Anya. I guess it was because of their Nazi origins because they did the same. It's how the Nazis were prosecuted for their war crimes after the war because it was all there. They thought they were documenting their greatness, but they were actually keeping the evidence that would convict them."

He stopped for a moment, unsure whether to continue but Bucky stood firm.

"Keep going," he said. "You've told me this much. You might as well tell me everything."

"The future you, the one I left behind still managed to have an effect on some people while you were on the run. A man who helped you ... another Grant, Grant Allman, was a veteran who wasn't doing so well. You gave him a list of HYDRA safe houses, places with money, and information. He used the money to get himself squared away and help other vets. The information he found ... it was all about what HYDRA did to you and he sought me out. Shared it with me during the Blip, those five years when you were gone. It gave me a purpose and I learned it all, not just the few things I had learned before then ... I learned about all of it."

He reached for the glass that Bucky still hadn't touched and picked it up, taking a good-sized swallow of it to Bucky's amusement. As he watched how Steve's face remained grim, he understood the drink was needed to steady himself.

"It was bad, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I read how they sliced your skin open in the factory in Austria and watched it close up and heal," he said, not looking at Bucky, but feeling his body tense up at the moment he said it. "What the guards did to you there ... Zola knew what they made you do. That was the beginning of it and when they got you back, it was worse. Everything they did was to break you and destroy everything that was Bucky so they could control the being that was left to do their bidding. There was one thing they didn't know or realize but Eva did." This time he did look at Bucky. "Everything they did to your mind and your brain was repaired by the serum. She realized that putting you into cryosleep would give your body more time to fix the damage. Your memories would come back, your free will would return, and although you wouldn't be the same Bucky because of what you went through you wouldn't be their killer either because it went against everything that was the real you, Buck. You might have been their Winter Soldier for a time, but you were never their man; Bucky Barnes was always there, always fighting to get out."

"So, that's when you decided to come back?"

Steve smirked, shook his head, and took another swallow of the scotch.

"No, I didn't decide that until after I went to see Rebecca." He straightened up. "I had reconnected with her a few times, but apparently, she didn't tell me everything. Grant told me some things, which led to the Roma leader giving me access to more files and admitting they kept tabs on her. Because she was your sister, she was like family to them. She finally trusted me enough to show me something. Someday, I'll show you a copy of it. At some point, in that previous past I was in before this one, I wrote and mailed a letter to Rebecca. I told her that you survived as a prisoner of HYDRA, and that we tried to get you out but failed. I didn't sign it, but I didn't have to because she recognized my writing and showed it to me after I asked her about it."

"Jesus, you couldn't make this stuff up if you tried," said Bucky, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I had to come back and hopefully, this time get it right and stop the time loop from repeating." Steve finished the scotch and looked at the empty glass before putting it back on the table. "That was good stuff. You should have taken it. I'll have to make a brief visit to the future original timeline, to set something in motion then, but other than that I'm locked into this one. Maybe, just maybe, we all get the life we deserve."

He looked at Bucky, who was not quite smiling, but wasn't angry or disappointed either. Maybe, he was meant to tell Bucky everything. Certainly, they had known everything about each other as they grew up. For the first time since he got back, Grant felt a little lighter, as if he didn't have such a big burden to carry anymore. Bucky looked up at the sun, then out over the city, before settling his gaze at Grant again. This time he smiled.

"So, we all get the girl? Steve with Peggy, you with Eva, and me with whoever. I guess you don't know whose heart I win."

"No, we're in uncharted territory now, at least for personal relationships," said Grant. "I know the world's history to come. Not sure how I'm supposed to proceed on that because a lot of bad stuff goes down. Although, if we stop HYDRA for real this time, there will likely be things that won't happen because they weren't there making it happen." He put his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Don't shut anyone out of your life. You never know."

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think the right woman will be anyone I know. They all look at me with pity and I don't need that. Do me a favour. If you meet someone that I might like, point her in my direction."

"Deal," smiled Grant. "Don't be angry at Dr. Erskine. He wanted to tell you about Steve and the rumours right from the moment he knew but we overruled him, thinking it was more important that you focus on recovering."

As Bucky nodded his head and looked out over Manhattan again, he had another thought. "My parents, in your timeline. What happened to them?"

"They thought you died and a part of them died with you. Your dad died in the 60s and your mom died in 1991, shortly after receiving a posthumous Medal of Honour awarded to you. One of the men there at the presentation was your HYDRA handler. He offered his condolences to your mother on your sacrifice. A colleague of mine killed him in 2014 when we finally realized HYDRA still existed, and it was a righteous kill, well deserved for the pain he brought to people's lives."

"When we find Dr. Zola, he's mine," said Bucky, his face hardening for an instant. "I never wanted to be a killer, but the army made me into a sniper, and I did my duty. If he's as dangerous as you say, then you need someone who can pull the trigger when it's necessary."

The dark look in Bucky's eyes at that moment was all too familiar to Grant but he nodded his head in agreement. Zola couldn't live and now that he was out there, setting up his network again, only one thing would stop him. Grant pulled away from the view, intending to return to the apartment but Bucky stopped him.

"Since we're being all truthful with each other I wanted you to know that my dad knows about everything I went through. I told him about the serum, about what happened before and after you found me. He knows you're a future Steve that came back to stop what happened to your Bucky from happening to me. I even told him about this Steve, crashing into the ice and surviving because of the serum. I had to tell someone, and it's helped us. I know he went through hell in the First World War and now he knows I've been through the same. I think he would like to see you, so, if you're around later maybe stop by for dinner or a visit before you go back."

A warm smile wasn't what Bucky was expecting to hear after telling Grant he had spilled some secrets to his father but it's what the older Steve gave him, along with a squeeze on his right arm.

"It's okay," he replied. "George is the only father I ever knew. If telling him brought you two closer, then it was the right decision. How about your ma?"

"I was pretty angry with her this morning as she's been treating me like a snot-nosed kid who can't take care of himself," replied Bucky. "I think I'll get those flowers home and hug her extra hard. I'm still moving out. Dad said there's a two-bedroom furnished flat across from the house up for rent. If Steve and Peggy are going to be here for a while, we can share the place."

"I think that's a good idea," agreed Grant. "I won't make any promises, but I'll try to get over there. If I don't, I'll see you tomorrow at the SSR. Oh, and Bucky, we're trying to find the "source" of the HYDRA lies but until we do, you're going to have to try your best to ignore the rumours. I'm sorry."

The two men returned to the apartment and Bucky picked up his flowers, leaving. On the subway ride back to Brooklyn, he thought of what he should say to his mother. Not only did he have to apologize to her, but he would also have to prepare his family for the propaganda that would insinuate he was a traitor, a HYDRA stooge. All he could do was stand tall and keep trying to believe that all of this would soon be behind him.

When he did arrive, and opened the door to the house, his mother was bustling around in the kitchen, just beginning to prepare dinner. Rebecca wasn't home from school yet. His father would still be at work for another couple of hours.

"Ma? I'm home." The sounds in the kitchen ceased and he entered it, seeing his mother bent over the counter. "I'm sorry I lost my temper with you this morning. There's no excuse good enough to explain why I was so angry. I brought you some flowers."

He stood behind her, holding the flowers, waiting for something from her. Slowly she turned around, looked at the bouquet and began to cry. Dropping them on the table he wrapped his right arm around her and hugged her as hard as he could.

"I'm sorry that I didn't understand that I made you feel inadequate," she whimpered. "I hate seeing you in pain and you're hurting Bucky, you're hurting bad. I saw Mr. Goldstein and told him you and Steve would take the flat. You're right that you have to be able to look after yourself. At least you'll be close by, and you can always come over for dinner."

"He probably won't be alone," said Bucky. "He's got a sweetheart, a British woman, who's part of the SSR. She's supposed to be in New York by morning. Something tells me they'll be getting engaged pretty quick. The best part is that she loved him before he became Captain America, when he was still a little guy."

"I always knew there was someone for him," she said, "just like...." She hesitated, then continued when Bucky smiled at her. "Just like there's someone for you. These girls you used to date think you're broken. You just got your world shaken a bit. You'll be back to yourself in no time."

He smiled at her, hugging her again, and left her to put the flowers in a vase while he changed into some casual clothes. During dinner, he told his mother and Rebecca the truth about him having the serum and how it saved his life. Then he told them about Steven Grant, the man who came back in time to find him in the mountains, determined not to let HYDRA get him again. That brought up the possibility of him growing back his arm, if he had the full treatment that Steve Rogers did. His mother seemed frightened by it but agreed that it was his decision and promised to support him in any way. Just before he told them the final piece of news the doorbell rang, and his father got up to answer it. When he came back into the dining room, he brought Steven Grant with him and for a moment, Bucky thought his mother would faint, even as she stayed sitting in her chair.

"Mrs. Barnes," he said, kneeling in front of her. "I haven't seen you in 80 years. You look amazing. You all do."

"You're Steve but from the future?" she asked.

He nodded. "I go by the name Steven Grant now because Steve Rogers is still Captain America. I was still that until I left, and a friend took over the responsibility. I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep Bucky from getting hurt but at least we were able to rescue him and keep him from further harm."

"I was about to tell them about the newspaper article," said Bucky.

"I heard about it at work," said his dad, shaking his head angrily. "I've a good mind to file a libel suit against that reporter."

"That's why they didn't use a name," said Grant. "If they say it's Bucky then it is libel. By saying it's rumoured that someone with the Howling Commandos is a plant they can get away with it, especially since they have a new sergeant with Bucky being back here. You might still have a case. I can ask the lawyers at SSR about it, because Bucky is still assigned to them. We'll find out who's feeding the lies and arrest them. I promise."

"Steven, have you had dinner?" Mrs. Barnes looked at him. "I have more than enough. I want to know more about this article and about you."

"Thank you, if it's not too much trouble," he replied.

She went out to the kitchen for another place setting and returned, while Mr. Barnes pulled an extra chair over to the table. As he began to serve himself, he told them about the new set of rumours and how they were being used to focus negative attention on Bucky. He also assured them that the SSR didn't look at Bucky that way at all.

It was an enjoyable reunion with this couple, and the younger Rebecca, who had her whole life in front of her; not at the end of her life when Grant last saw her. There was no doubt that being with them was the right thing. Perhaps, part of Bucky's healing needed them to be informed of what happened in the future that Grant was trying to prevent. When George Barnes went out for his nightly smoke, he and Bucky joined him, although Grant declined the cigarette that was offered to him. Bucky brought up PTSD, and asked Steven to explain it to his father. Knowing that in earlier times it was seen as a character flaw and not an injury, Grant told him everything that had been learned by the 21st century about it. The older man listened solemnly, puffing on his pipe then looked carefully at the kitchen window where Winnie was bustling about, cleaning up after their meal.

"I still said and did terrible things, to her and to my children," murmured George. "This post traumatic thing doesn't change that."

"No, it doesn't," agreed Grant. "But understanding that it's from something that overwhelmed you and has left a permanent mark on you, can help you heal from it. Even now, all these years since then, you can still learn to handle it better. Bucky said talking to you about his own experiences has helped him. Talking to him, or me, and other veterans can help as well. I know that for a fact."

The older Barnes smiled at Steve. "Maybe that's something you can do for people once all this HYDRA business is taken care of," he suggested. "Heavens knows this war has gone on long enough that there will be other men who need to hear that. Are there other wars to come or do we finally get it right?"

With a shake of Grant's head as his answer, there was nothing more to say and the three men sat quietly for a time until George finished his pipe and tapped out the remnants of his tobacco into a pail of sand. He hugged Bucky, put his hand out to Grant, then pulled him in for a hug.

"Thank you for coming back to save Bucky," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Your mother would have been so proud of you. I'm proud of you, son."

With several pats to George's back, Grant accepted it, trying not to cry himself. They returned inside and he took his jacket off the hook, before wishing Winnie and Rebecca a good night. Bucky walked him out the front door where they stood for several moments. Then Bucky sat on the top step while Steve stood on the sidewalk with one foot on the bottom step. He chuckled when he realized it was how they always said good night to each other when they were younger. Bucky looked at him, questioningly.

"It's been so long since I was here, standing in front of your house, saying good night to you, after dinner with your family and you always sat on the top step while I stood on the sidewalk with my foot on the bottom step," explained Grant. "Some things don't change."

"I guess they don't," replied Bucky. "Can I ask you something?" Grant nodded. "This extraterrestrial that you and your future team fought, that's someone from another world, right? Does coming back here change how that fight goes? Does he still come?"

"I don't know," he answered, truthfully. "Didn't think of it. We'll be old then. But with Erskine alive, perhaps we have an army of super soldiers to fight him, if he does return."

"Then let's make sure that if we do have an army of super soldiers that they're good men, and women." Bucky smiled, after adding that extra bit. "No bullies, no one looking for glory or fame. If we're going to have the serum, let's make sure the people getting it are there to protect not to conquer."

Even in the dark, Grant could feel the determination behind Bucky's words. It was true that with Erskine alive, the serum wouldn't be lost like it was before. But it would be harder to keep it safe from abuse. With a look between them, he knew they had reached an understanding, and it would be something they would come back to when the time was right. With a goodnight said between them Grant started towards his flat.

~~~~~~~

The following morning, Grant stood at the heavy wooden door of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum debating whether he wanted to knock on the door. Originally, he wanted to ask the Ancient One about the future of the serum but then he wondered if he should also get her to help with Bucky. It was still clear that Bucky was having difficulties even though he felt some good steps had been taken the previous day. His own talk with Dr. Erskine after Bucky left the penthouse confirmed that he had his own concerns. Bucky's physical healing was almost complete, except for the loss of his left arm. The emotional and mental toll was a different matter. Unless they could find a way to change that, Bucky wouldn't be able to undergo the full serum treatment. He had asked Dr. Erskine about the progress of Howard's prosthetic arms.

"Horrible things," said the doctor. "I saw his inventions at Stark Expo, and they were things of beauty, full of promise. His prosthetics are pieces of metal that look like they belong on a mechanical being. They would draw immediate attention, none of it beneficial to the man wearing it."

Grant was deeply disappointed by Stark's efforts in that regards, wondering if it was a bias based on his wealth, that a working-class man just needed something basic to keep working, rather than something that was aesthetically pleasing. Putting the thought out of his mind he raised his hand to lift the door knocker, surprised when the door opened before he even touched the metal piece.

"Come in," said the young woman acolyte who opened it. "The Ancient One is expecting you."

She led him into what seemed to be a study, except there were no books or anything of value. After making sure he was seated the young woman arrived with a tray that carried a tea pot and two cups. When he turned his head the other way the Supreme Sorcerer was standing at that side of him.

"You have two concerns to discuss with me," said the Ancient One, getting directly to the point, while sitting quickly and serenely in the chair across from him. "The first one isn't something I can answer at this time. The second one is obvious. You care about the struggle your friend James Barnes is experiencing.

"Despite everything, he was still captured by HYDRA, still fell and lost his arm," said Grant. "I know you said I had changed things by arriving early but so far everything that happened to him before has happened to him again, except for the second HYDRA part. He's lost much of his confidence. He lives but he's not happy. If he's not happy he won't be able to undergo the same procedure I did, as it won't take, or it might even make him worse."

"You want that more than anything for him," she stated, watching him carefully. "To see him happy was always your ultimate goal."

"Without all of the pain and suffering first, preferably," grimaced the man. "I feel like I failed him, again, and this time there's no chance to redo it. He won't be the Winter Soldier, but he won't be Bucky anymore, not the Bucky I knew."

She nodded and picked up her tea, sipping it cautiously, then gazed at him with her inscrutable face. "That was inevitable, just as you are no longer the Steven Rogers you once were. If I told you there was a way to restore his confidence and provide a means to ensure his future happiness, would you accept my instructions without question?"

He looked sharply at her. "Yes, for him, I would. What do I have to do?"

She smiled and handed him a slip of paper that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He read it, noticing two dates and two addresses on it. He didn't speak but did look at her expectantly, for an explanation.

"Be at the first address on the first date and time," she said. "When you get there, you will know what to do. Take your team with you as there will be a need for their help. Since Steve Rogers will be here in New York for the second date, tell him to make sure your friend Bucky goes with him to the second address on the second date." She smiled. "It's a dance and nature will take its course then."

He started to ask a question, then remembered what she said, smiled and nodded his head. He had just been given a lifeline for Bucky. The ageless woman stood then, and he realized his audience with her was over. But with that slip of paper in his hand, he felt better, just like he did after telling Bucky everything. That must have been how it was supposed to go, how it was supposed to happen. It was a completely different timeline now, that much was certain.

Chapter Text

Two Days Later

It was crowded in the SSR hospital room as Anya Waslewski took the IV out of Steve Rogers' arm.  She noticed the young sergeant, Barnes, and the other man, Steven Grant, the man her sister loved, watching her as she did it.  The two men, along with the others, had waited patiently over the last two days while she and her sister brought the young man out of his hypothermic state.  Her sister and Dr. Erskine were also there in the room, Eva with her hand on the young man's wrist, checking his heart rate.  Next to the bed, on a chair, was the woman who loved the young captain, Peggy, who had become her friend on the boat ride over from England.  Together with her sister, and Lt. Hay, the three women had supported her on the trip, helping her get over her captivity at the German base.  It was still difficult for Anya to believe that she was actually in America now, safe from the Nazis and more importantly, safe from HYDRA.  

"It should only take minutes now," stated Eva, confidently.  "His internal temperature is normal; his heart rate and breathing are within normal ranges.  We noticed his eyes moving beneath his closed eyelids, so his brain function is becoming normal as that rapid eye movement seems to be part of the sleep function."

"Did it normally take this long?" asked Grant.  "The other four didn't seem to take this long."

"The Nazis wanted it to be hurried up, as did HYDRA according to Anya so the freezing process was geared to that awakening," stated the doctor.  "But slower is safer for the body and the mind plus his freezing happened naturally, in a cold outdoor environment, not a controlled cylinder, so the potential for tissue damage was greater."

Steve's eyes fluttered open and Peggy placed herself in his vision.

"Steve?  Wake up, darling, you're safe," she said warmly to him.

He looked at her, frowning for an instant, then he recognized her, and his smile lit up the room.

"It worked?" he asked, his voice raspy.  He raised his hand, then dropped it as it felt too heavy to support.

"It's going to take a few minutes to get your bearings, a little longer for your strength," said Eva.  "Give yourself the time.  We have lots of it."

He turned to look at her, then saw Dr. Erskine.  "Where am I?"

"New York, Steven," said the older man, gesturing to the others.  "With friends."

Turning his head the other way, he saw Bucky and Grant, who both waved at him.  

"The bombs?"

"You crash landed the aircraft in the Arctic and none of them went off," said Grant, coming forward to stand at the foot of the bed, dressed in his Major's uniform.  "You weren't quite where I was found but close enough.  Howard got you back here as quickly as he could.  He would have been here, but he went back out to find the Tesseract."

Turning again to look at the others Steve noticed Anya.  "Who are you?"

"Anya Waslewski, Eva's sister," she smiled.  "I was in Schmidt's HYDRA base, in a cryosleep cylinder, hours away from being sent to Argentina.  I've been looking after you with my sister since you got here."

"You're, okay?  They didn't make you into a super soldier?" 

"Yes, thank you, I am," she replied, trying to look cheerful for him.  "No, they had other plans for me.  I'll leave you with your friends now."

"No, you don't have to leave.  If you were their prisoner, you were there when we attacked the base."

She put her hand on his, smiling sadly.  "I was, and I'm still recovering somewhat from the experience.  Excuse me."

He nodded then, not quite understanding, as she put her hand over her mouth and left.  Dr. Waslewski went with her leaving the others behind.  Steve looked at Peggy.

"What did they do to her?"

She glanced at Grant who nodded.

"She was to be a breeder for them," she said, gently.  "She may already be pregnant by one of the men that was in another cylinder.  Twelve men who were hand-picked by Schmidt fought each other for the right to father a child.  They were Nazis who were willing to follow him as part of the new order.  The winner ...."  She looked away briefly, leaving him to form his own conclusion.  "They had already been transformed then frozen for transport to Argentina where they would set up a colony there."

Steve's face hardened and he looked at Grant.  "Tell me you didn't save those men."

"We didn't," he said.  "We made sure they will never get out of those cylinders alive, and they're buried deep where no one will find them.  When I go back to Europe it will be to find others just like them."

"Then I'll go with you," said Steve, trying to get up.

"No," Grant shook his head.  "We'll talk but you still need to recover.  That's an order."

"But you need me," he argued.  

"We do, but we need you completely healthy and I have an assignment for you here.  We'll talk, I promise."

Steve looked to Bucky who shrugged with a smile.  "The Major gave you an order, Captain.  The good news is that once you're declared fit to leave your hospital bed you have a place to live ... me, you, and Peggy."

"Not with your parents," said Steve.

"No, across the street from them.  A two-bedroom flat.  Peggy already had a look and is happy with it.  She'll move in today, then once you're out of here, I'll move in as well."

Steve settled back, then looked at Peggy again.  "Alright, but the moment I'm fit for duty I'm on the first transport back."

"That goes without saying," said Grant.  "We'll leave you and Peggy to catch up."

They left the couple alone, returning to the main part of the hospital unit.  Dr. Waslewski and her sister were nowhere to be seen.  Grant and the others still felt angered at what happened to Anya at the base.  After she had been unfrozen in England, she was almost in a state of shock, unable to speak of what happened to her there.  Howlett, who had found her in her cylinder, and Raines, who translated her file, had both been furious at what had been planned for her.  Raines, especially, visited her every day in England after she was revived, speaking Polish to her in an effort to draw her out, but neither man knew the plan outlined in her file had already been implemented.  It was during the trip over in the hospital ship with her sister, Peggy and Lt. Hay that she finally confided in them; telling them of being forced to watch the brutal gang fight between the dozen super soldiers, then being shut into a room with the blood covered victor.  His treatment of her had been as depraved as one could imagine.  Grant, once he found out, insisted on her seeing a sympathetic woman psychologist for counselling while she insisted that she be allowed to work with her sister.  To her, it was part of feeling normal but one could only hope that someday she would feel safe again. 

Later that afternoon, after Bucky and Peggy went back to Brooklyn on the train, Grant entered Steve's room, pleased to see him sitting up and looking more like himself.  He pulled the chair up to the bed and leaned on his knees before clearing his throat.

"It's as bad as that?" joked Steve.

"No, just on completely new territory now so I'll get right to the point," he replied.  "I want you to stay and help Bucky.  He's getting better but once more of the rumours about here hit the public here it's going to affect him, and his emotions might take a dive.  You know he can't get the full serum treatment if his head isn't right.  That's not your only job.  You, Peggy, and Bucky are going to work with Private Richards and Corporal Chatham to identify any HYDRA supporters still in this building.  We can't expect to weed them out elsewhere unless we clean our own house first.   Sousa is in Washington doing the same.  He's already assembled his own team and will identify anyone in the upper command positions that are compromised."

"Okay, how long?"

Grant shrugged, then he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and looked at it before handing it to Steve, who saw a date and a place.

"On that day is a dance in Queens, at that address.  You and Peggy have to go to it, and you have to convince Bucky to go with you.  I can't give you any reasons or details why you have to go, except that it's important for Bucky to be there."

"Last day of March," said Steve.  "So, I'll be here until at least then."

"Looks like it."  Grant stood up then had a thought.  "You and Peggy could always get married while you're here.  If you fill out the form, I'll get the General to approve it.  I'm leaving tomorrow and it should be filed by next week or the week after."  Steve seemed shocked at the suggestion.  "Or you can ask her first and then fill out the form.  Don't wait to do what you know is right.  You two were meant for each other and should make the commitment."

"I'll talk to her about it," said Steve, then he looked at the older man, puzzled.  "Thanks."

Grant left him, then went to the lab, where Eva, Dr. Erskine and Anya were looking over the notes of Steve Rogers' reawakening process.  They all looked up to him, then Eva looked at the clock.  

"I guess we should be going," she said, smiling, before looking at her sister.  "You're sure that you're okay to stand up with me?"

"To marry the man that you love?  I wouldn't miss it even if I was on my deathbed.  Just let me change out of this nurse's uniform."

Dr. Erskine took his lab coat off and hung it up on a coat rack that held his jacket.  Eva came over to straighten his tie then she smiled at him as he threaded his arms through the jacket sleeves.  

"You're a good friend, Abraham," she said.  "You'll watch over Anya tonight?"

"I will," he said.  "I'll take good care of her.  She will always be with friends."

Eva went to Grant next, touching his tie and collar but not finding anything to fix on it.  He smiled at her so softly, his blue eyes bright as he gazed at her face.

"You're sure you don't mind me keeping my name?" she asked.  "There is only me and Anya left of the Waslewski's now."

"It's not uncommon in the future for a professional woman to keep her name," he said softly.  "With all the research you and Abraham plan to publish together it deserves to be in your name.  I'm so proud of you.  You know that, right?"

"You've said it often, Stefan," she answered, using the Polish version of his name.  "Having you here this past week has made the decision to marry you very easy.  You are a very liberated man."

"Only took 12 years of living in the future to make me that way," he joked, then he looked in the direction where Anya went.  "I wish it was better for her."

"It will be better, now that she's here," said Eva.  "If she is carrying a super soldier child it will be her decision whether to go ahead with the pregnancy or not.  Abraham and I have already worked it out between us.  If she isn't then perhaps her healing can progress better.  Either way, she won't be alone."

He nodded.  "Raines asked if he could write to her.  I think he likes her."

"He is a good man.  I will try to get an answer from her before you leave tomorrow."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Anya, wearing civilian clothes.  Allowing the two women to leave ahead of them, they all waved goodnight to Lt. Hay who had arrived later in the day to work overnight.  She wished them good luck, having been made aware of and sworn to secrecy over what was going to happen between Dr. Waslewski and Special Agent Steven Grant.  With her own marriage coming up over the summer, she was excited for the couple.

Outside, it was cooler out in the late February afternoon than it had been a couple of days before.  The driver assigned to take both doctors home beeped his horn at them as he pulled into the empty space in front of the building.  Dr. Erskine sat in the front while the others sat in the back.  

"City Clerk's Office in Brooklyn," said Grant.  "Then you'll take Miss Waslewski and Dr. Erskine back to Queens."

Even though it didn't take long to get there both Grant and Eva worried about being late for their assigned time.  It was all unnecessary as they arrived with plenty of time to spare and waited with several other servicemen and their fiancées.  Just before their time came, Bucky rushed in, looking a little rushed, carrying two small bouquets of flowers.  He was followed by Peggy Carter.

"Sorry, we're late," he said.  "Couldn't find the camera, then we had to wait for the bouquets.  Can you believe they didn't have them ready?"  He looked Grant up and down, nodding his head in approval.  "I tried to give Peggy the slip but she's too good of a spy to fool.  She figured out something was up as soon as you arrived at the office wearing a full-dress uniform."

Grant blushed, then faced the woman he had loved back when he was younger.

"I won't ask you to keep this from Steve, but no one else should know," he said.  "It's safer for Eva and Anya.  Once we start looking for Zola, it's going to be even more dangerous."

"We'll keep it to ourselves," she said.  "I'm planning to come back with Steve.  It's my fight, too."

"I wouldn't dream of keeping you out of it," he smiled.

Their names were called, and Steven turned his attention to Eva, offering her his arm.  With a shared smile they followed the clerk into the office, accompanied by Dr. Erskine, Anya, Bucky and Peggy.  Ten minutes later, it was done, and the man born Steven Grant Rogers, in July 1917, frozen in the ice in 1945, who woke up in 2011, fought as an Avenger for 12 more years before returning to 1943, married a woman who had originally been just a name on a HYDRA file.  Dr. Eva Zofia Waslewski never expected to find someone who wasn't threatened by her knowledge and drive.  All of her adult life, most of the men who were interested in her made it clear they expected her to give up medicine and science, to accept the limited role of wife, mother, and keeper of the household.  Steven Grant came from the future to save her life, then won her heart with his honesty in their dealings, and belief in her accomplishments.  Although they would only get one night together before he flew back to England, she knew his work had to take priority for a time.  She believed in him just as strongly.

England - One week later

The Phantom Patrol were spread out on both sides of a country lane in the middle of blackout conditions.  It was unseasonably warm for the end of February.  Daffodils had been popping up everywhere, a sure sign of spring, even though it was several weeks before the equinox signalled the official start of that season.  Still, it was early in the morning, they were all in combat gear and blackened faces, supposedly training for a covert approach to a building that was standing in for their target on their next mission.  Except, any vehicle driving by would easily see them at the side of the road, as there were no ditches to hide in.  

"Grant?" asked Howlett, as their commanding officer held his hand up, stopping them briefly as they approached a crossroads.  "Why are we out here at 1:30 in the morning?"

"You know there are some things I'm not at liberty to share," replied the intelligence agent.  "But if you're asked by anyone else it's nighttime training; something we have to do before we head into Russian occupied territory."

He gave the signal to cross the open road, then slowed up as they walked along the darkened lane when they got to a high stone wall.  Grant and Howlett heard it first, their heads snapping up to the sounds of a woman's cries and the laughter of men, several men.  

"What the hell?" muttered the sergeant.  "Did you know about this?"

"Can't say," said Grant, then he looked back at the others.  "I'm going forward, you follow and take them all into custody.  Howlett, make sure they're all charged.  I'll meet you back at the base later."

They watched as Grant advanced first, stealthily creeping along the large stone wall that opened into a parking area outside what appeared to be a private club in the country.  He saw the men, visible in the faint glow coming from the windows of the club, who hadn't bothered to fully black out their exterior.  There were six of them, two on the ground, holding a woman down while one of them, still standing, had started unbuttoning his pants.  The other three watched, doing nothing to help her.

"Stop struggling and take it," sneered the man who was standing.  "There's no one coming to your rescue out here, Junie."

"Wrong!" yelled Grant, leaping at the man and pushing him to the ground while he grasped the two men holding the woman down.

He pulled them off of her, throwing them at least twenty feet away.  The other three scattered but his men spread into the yard and quickly took them into custody.  Grant stood over the first man, looking at him with murder in his eyes.  

"What'd you do that for?" fumed the man, doing his pants back up.  "She's been asking for it.  Strutting around like she's too good for any of us.  Just a WAC, a slut like all the rest."

Grant reached down and lifted the man up by his collar, pulling him close to his face.  "You have no right to treat any woman in that way.  I accuse you of attempted rape, assault of a fellow soldier, and conspiracy to commit a crime."  He looked to Howlett, shoving the man towards him.  "Take them."

He turned back to the woman who lay sobbing, curled up into herself, her uniform torn, and her stockings ruined.  As he kneeled towards her, she cried out and tried to get away from him, pushing herself away while she looked for somewhere to escape.

"Shh."  His voice was soft as he put his hand out towards her.  "It's alright.  I'm a friend.  My name is Steven and I'm to here to help.  I won't hurt you."

She looked fearfully at him, but his tone must have assured her as she allowed him to lift her up in his arms.  Once he sure she was secure he carried her out of the parking enclosure and back out into the lane.  Without waiting for his team, he began the walk back to the base.  Her soft voice broke through his concentration at getting her to safety, when she spoke to him.

"Where are you taking me?" 

"To the base hospital," he replied, looking ahead into the dark.  "My men will make sure those men who attacked you are charged.  I'll stay with you at the hospital until I'm sure you're okay.  What's your name?"

"Corporal Norton," she answered, her voice quavering.  "I'm a mechanic in the motor pool.  I wasn't supposed to be on duty then Colonel Eastman requested a car and driver.  I was the only one available as the other drivers were already there at that club."

"I'm glad I got there before they could go further," stated Grant.  "Had they tried anything like this before?"  She began to cry again, burying her face into his chest, and he held her a little tighter, taking that as a yes.  "Don't worry, Corporal.  It'll be alright.  I promise."

Ten minutes later he approached the base gate where the MPs were on guard.

"My ID is in my chest pocket," he said to the MP in front of him.  "She was attacked by several members of the motor pool.  My team is bringing them in, and I will file full charges against them.  Inform General Phillips and make sure they're all put into custody for court martial."

The MP reached into Grant's chest pocket, saw who he was and nodded, placing the card back inside its spot.  Ordering the gate to be raised he went inside his hut and called General Phillips' quarters, telling him what just happened.  Shortly after Grant arrived at the hospital unit with the young woman corporal, the General came in, looking like he had dressed hastily.  He looked with concern at the young woman as Grant stayed with her at the reception desk then walked with him while they wheeled her to an examination room.

"We were on a night training session," said Grant, keeping his voice low.  "I heard her screams then the laughter of men.  They had her down on the ground, two of them holding her down while one was getting ready to take her.  The others were watching, doing nothing."

"The others?" 

"Drivers from the motor pool, all of them," said Grant.  "They've been planning this, I'm guessing.  She was on duty but shouldn't have been.  It's my understanding women personnel who are not nurses are not to be on duty at night, especially alone.  Nor are they to be used as drivers at night, correct?" 

"You're right," confirmed the General.  "Who ordered the vehicle?"

"Colonel Eastman," said Grant.  "With your permission I would like to go back and bring him in.  He was at that club in the country."  He turned his eyes to the General.  "You know the one I'm talking about."

Phillips raised his eyebrows thinking it would be more than just bringing the Colonel in, but he nodded his permission.  Then he looked towards the cubicle where the woman was being attended to by a nurse.  They noticed him looking and the nurse pulled a privacy barrier over.

"She's a beautiful woman," he noted, then at Grant's glare shook his head.  "I'm not saying she asked for it.  Far from it, as no woman deserves that treatment.  You should ask around as to whether others have assumed things about her or if other women in that detail have experienced similar situations.  They've had several women transfer out recently, although none of them indicated there was any impropriety."  He shook his head.  "What's the world coming to that a woman soldier, just doing her job and her duty can't do it without some lowlife trying to take advantage of her.  We'll get swift justice for her, I promise you."

The nurse came out, carrying the woman's uniform in her arms.  "She's asking for the man who carried her in."

Grant nodded at the General and entered the cubicle.  In the light from the bedside lamp he could see how delicate she appeared, especially now that she was wearing a hospital gown.  She smiled gratefully at him, but he could see she was still shaken.

"They've taken my clothes as evidence of the assault.  My roommate, Corporal Steinman, should be able to bring me more clothes in the morning.  They want me to stay here tonight for observation.  What's your last name?"

"Grant," he replied.  "Special Agent Steven Grant.  I'm with Army CIC.  My team and I were on a night training session.  That club, you're aware it is a bordello?"

Her eyes opened wide.  "No, I was just told to drive the Colonel there and wait for him.  I would have said no if I had known.  I should have stayed in the car, but it was so warm that I had to get some air."  She frowned.  "Those men you stopped, they've always been after me, even when we're on duty, always making crude remarks, wanting me to go out with them.  I'm engaged and I wouldn't do that to my fiancé."

"Is he in the service?" asked Steven.

"No, he's 4F, flat feet and asthma."  She showed Grant her engagement ring on the same chain as her dog tags, then started to cry.  "He'll say he told me so when hears about this.  He didn't want me to join the army."

"You don't have to tell him if you don't want to," said Steven, sympathetically.  "I do hope you'll testify against these other men.  If they've tried it with you, they've tried it with others."

"I'm sure they have," replied Corporal Norton.  "We started out with six women mechanics and now there's just me and Ruthie.  The others got reassigned to other jobs elsewhere.  One had to go home."  A tear trickled down her cheek.  "I should have transferred when I had the chance."

The nurse appeared with a pill and a glass of water.  "The doctor wants you to take this to help you sleep," she said kindly.  She looked at Grant knowingly, then smiled at the woman.  "You're safe here, Corporal.  We'll take good care of you."

She took the pill, drinking some of the water to wash it down then looked at Grant as she laid her head back on the pillow.  "My friends call me Gladdie," she said.  "It's a nickname as my full name is June Gladys Norton.  I recognized your Brooklyn accent.  I'm from the Bronx."

He smiled at her, pulling up a chair.  "I was born in Hell's Kitchen, but my Ma moved us to Brooklyn when I was a kid.  Lived there ever since.  How long were you a mechanic in the Army?"

"I was a mechanic before the war," she said.  "My grandpa taught me.  Then when they started up the WACs, I figured it was a way to serve.  My fiancé wasn't happy about it, but I wanted to do something meaningful before I got married and settled down."  She frowned.  "I can't help how I look.  When I was growing up boys said I was too big and tall.  Then when I joined the army, it was like men and even some women assumed I was something I wasn't."

"I don't think that," said Steven.  "I know guys who would treat you with respect.  Tell me what you do for fun in the Bronx."

"Other than work on cars and motorcycles?  I like to read, and dance except I'm not very good because most guys don't want to dance with a tall girl.  I listen to music and I'm a good cook."  She yawned.  "My brothers taught me how to play basketball and baseball.  I love the Yankees."  She smiled sleepily at him.  "Sorry, you're probably a Dodgers fan."

"Yeah, but I won't hold that against you," smiled Grant.  He watched as she closed her eyes, realizing she was asleep then he spoke softly.  "Bucky will treat you right.  I think you're the one he's always been looking for."

He turned off the bedside lamp and stopped at the nurse's desk.  "Corporal Norton is sleeping.  Take care of her and make sure she gets back to her quarters safely in the morning."

"I heard you're pursuing charges against her attackers," stated the nurse.  "A couple of the doctors here were ordered to brush it under the carpet but she's not the first woman to be attacked by some of those men in the motor pool.  One private had to go home when she ended up in the family way, poor kid.  She was only 19 years old."

"Who is the officer responsible for the motor pool?" he asked.  

"Colonel Eastman is the CO," she replied.  "Captain Green is immediately below him.  The captain is alright, but he's been overruled several times when he's tried to bring charges against some of those men.  They think because they're based at HQ that they're invincible."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Grant.  "I won't stand down on this, and now that the General knows neither will he."

When he got out of the medical building, he saw Howlett waiting for him in a Jeep.  He smirked as he sat next to the Canadian sergeant, who had an unlit cigar in his mouth.

"We're going back?" asked Howlett.

"I am," replied Grant.  "You get those other men into the stockade?"

"Yeah, some of them resisted.  They may have acquired some injuries on the hike back.  Corporal Bradley sends his apologies."

"I'll make sure to put that in my report," smirked Grant.  "Head back to the club.  I have to inform a Colonel about a failure in command.  He likely won't take it well."

Howlett started up the Jeep and the two men were at the bordello a few minutes later.  While the Sergeant waited at the door, Grant entered and flashed his ID, sizing up the woman in front of him.

"What's your pleasure, Special Agent?" asked the madam, smiling sweetly.  "Blonde, brunette, redhead?"

"Colonel Eastman," he stated.  "Now."

"Well, that would be against house policy to confirm that an officer is on the premises," said the woman, not so friendly anymore.

"Then I'll call the MPs and have your "club" closed," said Grant.  "I'll make sure you're arrested for being the madam of a house of prostitution.  It is officially illegal in England, isn't it?"

"Now listen here, Yank," said the madam, her full accent coming out in force.  "We have a lot of high-ranking officers who have a membership here."

"None of them will lift a finger to help you if they're rounded up by the MPs," said Grant.  "So, tell me where Eastman is, and you can continue to offer your services to your other members.  I just want him."

Grumbling, she told him and led him up to the room.  They could hear the obvious sounds of a couple in the throes of passion emanating from the room and Grant shook his head in disgust.  What a man and a woman did behind closed doors was their business, but Corporal Norton's presence outside had been a result of Eastman breaching regulations and his duty to the people under his command.  It had been well over an hour since Grant took her to the base hospital and it appeared the Colonel hadn't made any effort to see to her welfare.  Trying the door handle and finding it locked he looked at the madam for a key, but she shook her head.  With one kick he broke the door down and amidst the cries of the woman in the bed strode over to Eastman and dragged him out.

"Colonel Eastman?  I'm putting you under arrest for the following charges under the Uniform Code of Military Justice," he announced to the naked man.  "You are charged with Soliciting of the commission of an offence, Endangering an enlisted soldier, Misprision of a serious offence, and Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman."

"What's the meaning of this?" asked Eastman, reaching for his clothing.  "You have no right."

"You realize that while you were in here your woman driver was attacked by the other members of the motor pool who were out in the parking area of this "club,"and that it was determined that this isn't the first time a woman soldier under your command has been subjected to an assault of a sexual nature?"

"I can't be responsible for the conduct of everyone under my command," sputtered the Colonel as he tried to pull his pants on.

"Actually, you are when it seems to be an offence that happens more than once," answered Grant.  "Plus, Corporal Norton, as a woman, should never have been asked to transport you or wait for you at night.  It is against all military regulations involving the use of women drivers.  For that alone, you're looking at a court martial, Colonel.  Now, get dressed."

After waiting for what seemed like too long, Grant grabbed the Colonel by his collar and began dragging him out of the room.  The Colonel took a swing at him which Grant easily sidestepped.  Kicking the Colonel in the ass he got him down the stairs and out the door where Howlett stepped forward to help.  Putting his hand up to stop the Sergeant, Grant picked up the Colonel by the collar and his belt then forcibly placed him in the back seat of the Jeep.

"I'll see you up on charges," fumed the Colonel.

"Fine, you do that," replied Grant.  "Now shut up and stay in the Jeep."

By the time they arrived at the base gate the MPs were ready to take custody of the Colonel.  They read out the list of charges sworn against him by General Phillips; the same charges that Grant recited in the bordello.  As he watched the Colonel being taken away Howlett stood behind Grant.

"Are the charges going to stick?" he asked.

"They'll stick," replied Grant.  "I'm guessing General Phillips checked into the other assaults that happened against several other women drivers."

"What's so important about this woman?" asked Howlett, then he raised his hands when Grant glared at him.  "Hey, if the Colonel did what those charges said then he deserves to get what's coming to him, but you seem to take it seriously about the Corporal.  Why?"

Grant exhaled a loud breath.  "Bucky's not doing so well.  I failed him, failed to prevent him falling from that train."

"He disobeyed orders," said Howlett, puzzled at the change in subject.  "He wasn't supposed to go on the train, but he did."

"Yeah," grimaced Grant.  "He's got a protective streak in him that runs deep, and he wasn't going to let Captain Rogers get on it without backup after Falsworth slipped.  I should have realized that and confined him to base but I didn't.  I took him at his word that he wouldn't go on the train.  I was so angry with him when we found him in that ravine."

"That's why you offered to end it for him."  Grant looked at Howlett in surprise.  "Yeah, my hearing is as good as yours.  My sense of sight and smell are probably better.  I could smell the blood from quite a way out.  When you offered to end his suffering you meant it, didn't you?"

"At that moment, yeah," replied Grant.  "I wanted to know if he would fight to live, and he chose to fight.  But since he healed, he's been depressed.  Dr. Erskine thinks if he gets the full treatment that Steve and I both got that it would trigger his regenerative powers into restoring his lost arm.  The only problem is with his depression the risk of him transforming into something worse is higher."

"Okay, but what does the Corporal have to do with that?" A look of realization came over his face.  "You think he'll fall for her, and she'll restore his confidence?"

"I asked for help from a source that can peek into the future," said Grant.  "I got advance notice to be at that place at that time and date.  We prevented the rape, and it appears that at some point she returns to New York where she meets Bucky and makes him happy.  Happy is better for him and better for the transformation.  From what I've seen of her, Bucky can make her happy as well.  I'm sure of it."

"Were you always that romantic at heart?" smirked Howlett.

Grant chuckled.  "I have my moments.  Let's get back to our quarters.  It's still a couple of months before the surrender happens, but we need to be in and out of Russian occupied territory before it's declared.  I want to support her during the court martial if it's soon enough."

Three days later, the court martial of six men in the motor pool was held.  After testimony from Special Agent Steven Grant, Sergeant James Howlett, the medical staff on duty, and Corporal June Norton, the prosecuting officer presented evidence of other assaults against women mechanics, including one which resulted in an unwanted pregnancy.  Evidence was given by Captain Marlin Green that he attempted to bring up charges against several men, but was overruled by Colonel Eastman who instead ordered the women be given transfers to other postings.  After presenting the prosecution's case the accused men were given the opportunity to defend themselves.  Their only defence, that Corporal Norton could have left the club herself, was quickly discounted by the tribunal, the three superior officers who would rule on the case.  As a corporal, she had to obey the order to drive the Colonel, and once there, stay at her post until the Colonel gave her leave.  All the men were found guilty, sentenced to military prison for one year, dishonourably discharged on their release, with no further benefits being extended to them for the duration of their confinement.

On the following day, Colonel Eastman faced his own tribunal.  Just before the prosecution presented their case, the lawyer advocate for the Colonel, stood to advise the court that Eastman was prepared to plead guilty, lose his commission, his benefits, his pension, accept a separation from the service under Other than Honourable Conditions, and no imprisonment.  In return he would apologize in writing to all the women affected by his omission of duty to protect their interests adequately.  After a short recess, where General Phillips, one of the three superior officers on the tribunal, spoke in person to Corporal Norton, and Special Agent Grant, the plea was accepted, and Colonel Eastman lost all standing in the United States Army.

In the week after the assault, Grant made sure that Gladdie was never alone.  He asked the sympathetic nurse, and her roommate to spend time with her, letting her talk.  With the time approaching for him to leave on his mission he came to visit the young corporal one more time, meeting her outside the motor pool, where she was in her work coveralls, a smudge of grease on her cheek, but looking much better than she had during the court martial.  

"Special Agent Grant," she smiled, when she saw him.  "Sorry, I must look a mess."

"You look fine," he said.  "I'm headed out tomorrow, but General Phillips has offered to send you home, if you want.  There's a courier aircraft going out, and he's willing to designate you as a courier, to take some things to the SSR building in New York."

"What about the motor pool?" she asked.  "They need me."

"A base further north is being relocated here, and they're combining the two complements.  They'll have more than enough mechanics.  We just thought you might want to get back to that fiancé of yours and get your life on track."

He was astute enough to see the shadow flicker across her face at the mention of her fiancé but didn't change his own face, knowing she was going back for other reasons.  The shadow changed into something wistful, and once more he knew without a doubt that Bucky would fall hard for her.  His protective instincts would be in full force with Gladdie, and not in a bad way.  

"Alright," she replied.  "Home sounds good.  Thank you for being there that night and for standing by me at the court martials."

"You're welcome," he said.  He offered her his hand.  "I hope we meet again.  My wife ...."  He hesitated for a second, as this was the first time, he ever referred to Eva as his wife to anyone over here, other than the General.  "I'll put a letter to my wife in the package.  She works there and will get it when you deliver it."

"I'd be happy to," said Gladdie.  "Good luck on your mission."  She covered her mouth with her hand, an embarrassed smile on her face.  "Oops, loose lips."

"I won't put you on report," he smiled kindly.  "Goodbye, Corporal."

Chapter Text

March 31, 1945. Brooklyn / Queens

When Steve came out of his bedroom, dressed in his uniform for the dance he wasn't happy to see Bucky sitting on the sofa in the flat they shared, still in his civvies. Part of the reason they were allowed to live in a regular place while both were on medical leave was to get Bucky used to being in public again, with his physical disability on display, especially since the planted rumours of him began circulating again. Their appearance together was crucial to counter those rumours, propaganda that had been planted in the newspapers by HYDRA supporters. The other Steven told him that Bucky had to be encouraged to accept the changes in him, even with one arm. Sitting at home alone, reading, instead of reclaiming his social nature wasn't healthy.

"You're not dressed," stated Steve.

"I'm not going," replied the dark-haired man. "People stare at the arm. They stare at me. I can hear them whisper about being HYDRA's spy."

"We all know you're not," said his blond friend. "We found the person responsible and publicly charged them with espionage. Now you have to show your loyalty by having a public presence with Peggy and me. If you're with us, they'll know we trust you. They'll trust you by association, but you have to be visible. If you just hide, they'll say you're hiding for a reason."

"They won't be wrong."

"Bucky, just come with me and Peggy," said Steve, slightly exasperated at how easy it was for Bucky to slip back into his self-deprecation. "I hate to see you moping around. Maybe you'll meet a nice girl."

"Who would want to be seen with me?" he asked. "I'm not the man I was before. The lack of an arm is visible proof of that."

"Bullshit," replied the blond, bringing raised eyebrows from his brunet friend. "You won't be the only veteran there missing a limb. Hell, you remember Teddy Miller. He lost an arm and an eye. Went to a dance, met a girl, and they're getting married next week. If that farm boy can do it, so can you."

"Fine," sighed Bucky. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Several times on the train to Queens, Bucky almost turned around and went back home but the thought of his parents seeing him return to the flat across the way, and looking at him as if he was damaged goods was almost as bad, even though they didn't do that in reality. When they arrived at the dance hall, Bucky paid his admission and checked his hat, then went straight to the bar, ordering a double whiskey. Steve and Peggy were already on the dance floor, and he smiled grimly at the prospect of Steve being the one to outdo him in the women department, especially since they just got officially engaged and were planning to get married this coming week. Downing his drink, he ordered another and this time turned around so he could see who else was there.

As he scanned the couples dancing on the floor, he shook his head at the number of guys with two left feet before the war now dancing with a beautiful girl. He recognized several girls he had dated before he shipped out but when they saw him watching, their eyes flickered to the remains of his left arm. All he saw in their eyes was pity and he looked elsewhere. Just as he was about to down the rest of his second drink he saw her, a taller voluptuous blonde in a blue and green dress, on the other side of the dance floor, leaning against the wall with her own drink, watching the dancers with a sense of longing on her face. He had never seen her before, although there was something familiar about her, so he kept watching her, liking how she had her pale blonde hair up in a, what did they call it? A French roll: something he thought was elegant looking. She hadn't seen him yet as she was watching the dancers. Then suddenly, her head turned, their eyes locked and he raised his glass to her, sipping from his glass. She smiled slightly then drank from hers. He turned to the bartender.

"The tall blonde against the wall," he said, pointing her out. "What's she drinking?"

"Gin and tonic," said the bartender.

"Pour a double for me," said Bucky, pulling fifty cents out of his pocket, before downing the rest of his drink.

Carrying the drink in his right hand he threaded his way around the edge of the dance floor to where she was standing. She saw him coming and stood upright, finishing her drink, then placing the empty glass on a nearby table. As he got closer Bucky liked what he saw, just the right number of curves with a great pair of legs. There was something else about her as well, something soft and vulnerable that tempered his initial purely physical attraction to her.

"You looked like you needed a refill," he said, offering her the glass, trying to speak loud enough over the din of the music.

"I don't normally accept drinks from a stranger," she said, looking him in the eye.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," he answered, barely heard over the sound of the band, "but my friends call me Bucky. I'm from Brooklyn."

That slight smile appeared on her face again. "June Norton," she said. "From the Bronx. My friends call me Gladdie."

"Can I offer you a drink, Gladdie?" asked Bucky, extending his hand with the glass.

She noticed then he only had one arm before accepting the glass and sipping from it, looking at him without expression.

"Thanks. May I ask what happened?" she asked, looking at where his left arm used to be.

He looked at it then back at her, seeing no pity in her eyes. She was direct, something he liked. She definitely didn't pussyfoot around.

"Fell off a train during a mission," he said. "Lost the arm in the fall, got badly banged up in the process but I survived and they brought me home. I'm part of an experimental project for a new arm and hand that works like a real one."

"Really? Sounds exciting," she replied. "How do you manage without it?"

"Well, I'm right-handed so I can still do the important stuff," smiled Bucky, leaning a little to closer to her, making her blush a little in response. When she pulled away from him, he wondered if he had overstepped a boundary. "What did you do during the war, Gladdie?"

She sipped her drink again looking directly at him to determine if he was on the level. He was definitely easy on the eyes and his style of flirting was easy to respond to, much less blatant than some of the crude comments she had been subjected to in the army, when she was stationed in England.

"I was a corporal in the Women's Army Corp, worked as a mechanic. I got back three weeks ago." He smiled, seemingly impressed. "Can you still dance?"

"The slow ones," he replied, remembering that longing look on her face as she watched the other couples dancing, "as long as you don't mind being close to make up for the lack of an arm. I think I'll pass on the fast ones, for a while anyways."

She looked out longingly at the dance floor again. "I'm better at the slow ones," she admitted. "Less chance of stepping on your feet." Frowning slightly, she looked away for a moment.

"Doll? You don't look like the type with two left feet."

"I don't know." She seemed a little distressed. "I don't get asked to dance much."

"Well, Gladdie from the Bronx, would you dance with me?" Fortune favours the bold. "I'll make sure you enjoy it."

She swallowed, nodded and asked another girl to watch her drink. Bucky offered her his right hand, leading her to the quieter spot in the centre of the dance floor. Placing his right hand on her back he waited for her to put her left hand on his right shoulder.

"I have a stump," he said bluntly. "If you're okay with touching it over my jacket it you can place your right hand there. I'll move it forward or back when I lead, and we'll figure it out from there."

The current song ended, and the band began playing The Man I Love. Slowly, Bucky began swaying, watching Gladdie's face as they danced, then he began to lead her. Keeping it slow they were able to move to the music and he found himself taking in the scent of her perfume. Recognizing it as Shocking he smiled then lowered his head until his mouth was near her ear.

"You're the most beautiful woman in here," he said. "I noticed you very quickly."

"You're the only one who did," she replied. "I'm usually too tall for most men or too ...."

"You're not too tall," interrupted Bucky. "You're perfect. The guys in the Bronx must be idiots to leave a beautiful woman like you sitting against the wall."

She stiffened a little then pressed her lips together, looking away as if she wanted to hide her face from him. Bucky stopped, using his right hand to raise her chin up so they were looking at each other in the eye. He was surprised to see that she was almost crying.

"Don't cry, pretty girl," he said gently, then reached inside his jacket for a handkerchief. "You'll smudge your makeup."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked, as she applied the edges of his handkerchief to her eyes. "Guys that look like you usually like the cuter little girls, the ones with perfect noses and size 6 feet."

"Maybe before the war," he answered quietly, oblivious to the others around them. "But I wasn't always like that and definitely not anymore. I can see what's really beautiful, and she's dancing with me."

He took her in his arm again and they moved to the music, not saying anything but both of them very much aware of the other. Even over the sound of the music Bucky could hear her heart racing, thankful for the ability the serum had given him. She really was lovely, and he wished he had met her before the war because she was definitely someone to come home to. When the music ended, she turned to go back to her spot, but Bucky reached out and touched her hand, linking their fingers together.

"Don't run away," he said. "Come and meet my friends."

For a moment he saw a flash of something in her eyes, of panic perhaps, and wondered who had hurt her enough to prompt that response.

"It's my best friend and his fiancée," he assured her. "You'll be surprised when you meet them, I'm sure. Please."

They returned to get her drink and he led her by the hand to where Steve and Peggy had a table. Steve stood up and waved at them, making Gladdie stop and look at Bucky with delayed recognition.

"Steve Rogers? Captain America is your best friend?" she asked. Her face dropped. "I didn't recognize you or your name. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, squeezing her hand a little. "It's kind of nice not being recognized. Please, let me introduce you to them."

He pulled a chair out for Gladdie and presented her to Steve and Peggy. Right away Steve asked if Bucky wanted another drink, then he asked Gladdie and Peggy. Assuring him she was okay, Gladdie sat back and looked from Bucky to Peggy as Steve went to the bar.

"You're really Peggy Carter, SSR agent?" she asked of the dark-haired woman. "Wow. All the women mechanics in my unit were such fans of yours, going on the missions with the men, fighting the Nazis and HYDRA. You're a legend already."

"Just did my duty," said Peggy. "You were a mechanic? Army?"

Gladdie nodded. "Just got back three weeks ago. This is the first dance I've been at since I got back, but my friend left me standing on my own when she saw a fella she used to date before the war. He had a bunch of medals on his chest and suddenly she was gone off with him. I haven't seen her since we got here."

"Well, the real heroes don't wear their medals in public," said Peggy. "They'll save it for when they're old men at their army reunions. I'm impressed you were a mechanic. Do you think you'll keep it up?"

"I'd like to," said Gladdie. "My parents wanted me to go to secretarial school, then get married and start a family, but I always liked fixing things. My grandpa taught me a lot and then the Army trained me as well. My fiancé ...." She stopped and her mouth set itself in a grim line.

"I'm sorry, did he not come home?" asked Peggy, trying to word it gracefully, as Bucky reached out for her hand.

"No, he didn't even go over," said Gladdie. "He asked me to marry him before I went to England, then was angry at me when I stayed in the corps. We had talked of opening a garage together before. When I got back, he was married to someone else."

"I already don't like him," said Bucky, looking up as Steve returned with their drinks, distributing the glasses out. The other three looked at their drinks for a minute then Bucky raised his. "Here's to beautiful women mechanics who served their country. May their worthless ex-fiancés rot in hell."

He downed his glass, then panicked when Gladdie stood up, grabbed her purse, and bolted out of the hall. Bucky swore and followed her outside, finding her with her forehead on her hand pressed against a light pole, her eyes closed, struggling not to cry.

"Gladdie?" he murmured, as he approached her. "I'm sorry. I say stupid things sometimes. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She shook her head then pulled herself away from the cool metal meeting his gaze. "You didn't," she replied. "Bert did all that. He didn't even tell me he was seeing someone while we were writing each other. Found out the day after I got back when I saw him with his wife, pushing a baby carriage. My parents never said a word but they knew.  He had the nerve to show up a day later to ask for the ring. I threw it in his face, and he dropped it. Fell down the steps into the sewer grate in front of my parent's brownstone."

Bucky smirked. "Good for you," he said, then he lightly placed his hand on her arm. "Like I said, the guys in the Bronx are idiots. Come back into the dance. Steve and Peggy won't think anything less of you."

She looked back at the entrance and sighed, then shook her head. "No, I'm not in the mood anymore. But you go ahead. It was awfully nice meeting you, and Steve, and Peggy. You're the real heroes."

"I'm not in the mood anymore either," he replied, then took her hand, squeezing it lightly. "Come just inside the door with me, so I can tell them I'm seeing you home, then I'll get my cap and take you anywhere you want to go."

He was so unbelievably handsome, standing there waiting for her answer. Gladdie noticed other women coming out for a breath of fresh air, doing a second take when they realized who he was, but he was still focused on her, waiting for her response. All of his attention was on her, as if his life depended on it. Nodding her head yes wasn't good enough apparently as he still stood there, waiting for her to speak.

"Alright," she answered, grasping his hand firmly. "I'll come in with you, say goodbye to the others, and you can pick up your cap."

"That's my girl," he whispered as he pulled her closer.

Together they went inside where Steve stood up when they arrived at the table.

"Gladdie and I are going to leave," said Bucky. "Neither one of us is up to dancing right now."

"We can come with you," offered Steve.

Bucky smiled and grasped Gladdie's hand tighter. "Thanks, but I think we're going to go someplace quiet and get to know each other better before I take her home. I'll see you at home, okay?"

"Okay, Buck," said Steve, patting his friend on the shoulder, then shaking her hand. "Gladdie, it was awfully nice meeting you. Buck will make sure you get home okay. He's trustworthy."

"The pleasure was mine, Steve, Peggy," she said. "My folks won't believe I actually met you."

"I'm sure we'll see you again, soon," said Peggy, offering her hand.

They picked up Bucky's cap and stepped out into the warm evening air as he placed it on his head. Taking her hand Bucky began to walk, not going anywhere in particular but not wanting to let this opportunity go. About ten minutes later they came across a diner that was open until midnight.

"I'm kind of hungry," said Bucky. "Fancy a bite to eat?"

"Okay," replied Gladdie, as he opened the door for her and followed her to a booth away from the other patrons.

He hung his cap up on the hook beside the booth then sat across from her. The waitress came around with menus and a coffee pot, filling both their cups full. Gladdie put some sugar and cream in hers while Bucky sipped his black. They both looked over the menu before he decided on the meat loaf special, while she ordered a slice of apple pie with ice cream. While they sat Bucky reached across the table for her hand, examining it in the artificial light. He noticed the short cut nails, and the small calluses on her palm and fingertips from using the tools of her trade.

"I like your hand," he said. "It's honest; the hand of someone used to hard work."

"My parents hated that I became a mechanic," she replied quietly. "They told people I was a secretary, a more honourable profession for a woman, in their opinion."

"They're wrong," he replied. "Mechanics kept the war going. Not in the sense of the fighting but without people like you there would be no supplies dropped off to the troops, no medical evacuations, no road transport. Hell, I wouldn't have made it."

She pulled her hand out of his and laid it in her lap, looking over to the kitchen in the hope that the food would arrive, and he would stop looking at her. As if he could read her mind Bucky leaned back, giving her some space.

"You live with Steve?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're both on medical leave and our doctors are here in New York," he said. She smiled politely but he could tell she was still a little on edge. "You seem to be uncomfortable with me, or is it with men in general? I'm a good listener if you want to talk about it."

"You're alright," she said, "but I never had any boyfriends until Bert. I was always the big girl, too tall for my age, too shy to make many friends. Someone like you never looked at someone like me."

An almost serene smile crossed Bucky's face as he thought about hearing this same comment from another tall girl, when he was in Camp McCoy during basic training. They had become friends first then finally shared an incredible weekend together just before he shipped out. He had debated about going to see her when he returned, but the last letter he sent was returned as Moved, No forwarding address.

"Tell me about your grandfather." Perhaps changing the topic would help. "You said he taught you about cars."

A smile crossed Gladdie's face and her green eyes lit up as she told him about her grandfather, Robert Norton, a man who loved all things mechanical after the first cars came out. He taught himself everything there was about the new way of getting around and eventually began selling them in the Bronx. From there he opened a garage and after his sons went on to work elsewhere and with no grandsons he offered his knowledge to his three granddaughters, although she was the one who stayed with it the longest.

"He always said a woman could do a man's work, if she picked the right work," said Gladdie. "It was time with him that meant a lot to me as I was a disappointment to my parents. When they formed the Women's Army Corps, I saw the advertisement asked for mechanics and figured it would be my chance to go somewhere, do something important. He encouraged me to do it and I really liked the work."

"Could you work for your grandfather?" asked Bucky.

She shook her head. "He died last year, and my parents sold the garage. I asked about working there but the new owner practically laughed in my face. He said I should be getting married and having babies."

There was silence after that, and Bucky realized with a bit of a sinking feeling that it wasn't the work that affected her but likely the people she had issues with. He could only guess that she had probably fended off some aggressive soldiers during her stint, considering how attractive she was. Sometimes he really wondered how men thought it was okay to treat women like dirt, but he had also read enough to know it was something that had happened since biblical times and was ingrained in many cultures and households, even his own on occasion. He himself hadn't been immune to taking women for granted at times, thinking of Vera at that moment.

"Where were you stationed?" he asked.

"I had basic in New Jersey, was made a corporal quite soon because I already had mechanical knowledge. Then in early 1943 I was shipped to England, posted to Camp Griffiss in Middlesex."

"Headquarters." His smile was genuine. "I'm impressed. We were based nearby. I'm surprised we never ran into each other."

"It was alright most of the time," she said, looking at the kitchen again, wondering when the food would come. "Because I was engaged, I didn't go to any of the dances or anything like that."

"Did you ever get to be a driver or were you just working on the vehicles?" he asked.

"I was a driver a few times, but I couldn't do it again," she said tersely. "After that I just worked on the cars, trucks, and occasionally motorcycles."

Bucky let out a quick breath at the tenseness in her voice and the words "after that," speculating that something may have happened while she was a driver. The waitress appeared, bringing their food out and topped up their coffees shortly after. They both ate for a few minutes before Bucky resumed the conversation.

"May I ask why your nickname is Gladdie? You said your name was June, but your nickname doesn't really come from it. Is it short for gladiola or glad-hearted?"

"My middle name, Gladys," she replied, happy for the change of subject. "I'm surprised I told you as I don't usually like people calling me that unless they know me."

"Would you rather I not call you that?" he asked. "My nickname is from my middle name but the only people who call me James are those who don't know me."

"No, you can call me Gladdie," she blushed. "I like hearing it from you."

Another bite of the pie made it to her mouth, and he ate some of his meatloaf, using his fork to cut into it. The serum made him hungry almost all of the time. At first, after he was rescued by Steve in the factory, he was ashamed of people knowing he was always hungry, worried they might think the HYDRA serum made him that way as Steve never really said he felt hungry all the time. But the other Steven, Steven Grant, who eventually rescued him after the fall while Steve continued on the train, came to talk to him in the camp after they returned back from Austria. He knew that Bucky didn't tell the medics everything about what was done to him, proof of who he really was, Bucky supposed, still not quite believing at that time that Grant was Steve Rogers from the future. Regardless, Grant told him all super soldiers were hungry as their metabolism needed the extra food. There was more he told him, things that he couldn't change but had to accept as being part of his life from then on. He shook his head, getting the thoughts out of his head and realized Gladdie was looking at him strangely.

"I'm sorry, you said something else?"

"You seemed to be far away. Are you alright?"

"I'm good," he replied, with a little nod of his head. "What do you know about me? I know there's rumours but I'm just curious what you've heard."

"Well, I've heard that you and Steve have known each other since you were kids." She looked him in the eyes. "He rescued you and a bunch of the others in the 107th from that HYDRA factory in Austria." For a moment, she paused, wondering if she should say something else then changed her mind. "Then you joined the Howling Commandos and you fell from that train in January, and another unit found you still alive but without your arm. You're still on medical leave but the Commandos want you back to finish the job against HYDRA. Steve is still on medical leave as well, after they found him near the wreckage of that plane crash. It was lucky you both survived such terrible accidents. You seem to have recovered well; all things considered."

"You were going to say something else." He spoke in a low voice, pretty sure of what she almost said. "It's okay, you can say it."

For a moment, Gladdie wished she wasn't there, wasn't sitting across from this incredibly handsome man who survived a several hundred-foot drop in the Austrian mountains, a miracle as described by the newspapers; she wished she wasn't trying to word her answer in a way that wouldn't offend him. But he did ask so maybe he liked it when someone was direct with him.

"There was a rumour that HYDRA made you into their super soldier." She kept her voice low, and her eyes focused on him. "You were allowed to be rescued by the allies so that you could infiltrate the Commandos and sabotage them from the inside. They said you fell from the train after fighting with Captain America. I didn't believe it, not for a second, and especially once I saw you with him tonight. You're friends, good friends and it showed."

"Thank you for being honest with me." It was proof the rumours were still floating around. "I can't tell you what really happened as it's still classified but the rumours of being a HYDRA spy aren't true. I can assure you of that."

They continued eating silently for a while then they both started speaking at the same time. Bucky deferred to her.

"What did you do before the war?"

"I quit school when I was 16, and worked on the docks," he began. "It was the Depression, and the money was good. I got into boxing and would have turned pro, but the mob have too much influence in it. Steve talked me into going into art school with him. I was in the technical program, learning technical drawing, that sort of thing. Then Pearl Harbour happened, and I was drafted a month later. Now, one arm down, I'm not sure what I can do, although there's a chance I can get back in with the Howling Commandos looking for the last remnants of HYDRA."

"Is it dependent on that new arm project?" she asked. Bucky nodded. "You don't seem excited about the prospect."

"Just not a big fan of doctors or medical procedures," he stated tersely.

They were silent again. "What were you going to say before we interrupted each other?"

He really didn't want to talk any more, about any of it. Impulsively, he decided to find out if coming to the dance had been a waste of time and the need to know if there had been anything, any spark between them, took priority.

"Are you free tomorrow, during the day? Would you come out with me?"

"You want to see me again?" He smiled and nodded. "Will you pick me up or shall we meet?"

"Either way I have to take the train," he said apologetically. "Can't drive and change gears with one arm."

"That's okay," she said, grinning. "Nothing wrong with the train."

They finished eating and Bucky paid the check, then stepped aside to allow Gladdie to leave the diner ahead of him, before offering her his right arm as they walked. It was completely dark out now, still warm although a slight breeze had sprung up, enough to keep the humidity at bay. They walked along the sidewalk towards the station that still had a train running west to Manhattan. When they got to the station entrance, Gladdie turned to Bucky, standing on the first step as he still stood on the sidewalk, looking up to her.

"You don't have to take me all the way home, I'm okay from here," she said, gently.

Her own insecurities had made it hard for her to believe he was investing all this time and attention on her. She could give him an easy excuse to end it, right here, right now. The glow of the streetlight lit up her hair from behind, making her look like an angel to Bucky. That look of longing was on her face again, and he had a vision of waking up next to her every morning.

"That's not how this works," he replied firmly. "I promised to get you home safely. That's to the door, sweetheart."

"Are all of the Brooklyn boys gentlemen like you?"

"Nah, me and Steve are the best they have to offer," he grinned, making his face seem even more handsome.

He bought their train tickets and waited on the elevated station platform with her. The train would take them to Manhattan where they would transfer to a train for the Bronx. Gladdie told him her parent's home was a ten-minute walk from the station there. For the next while they sat side by side on the train, being bumped together occasionally when the car took a sharp turn. When they got off to transfer the station was crowded.

"Theatre crowd," said Gladdie. "With Broadway fully back up and running it will be like this from now on."

After getting bumped a few too many times Bucky put his arm around her, keeping her close, noticing she startled easily. She didn't pull away from him either, which he liked and there were moments when she stood close enough to him that he could almost bury his face in her hair. Her perfume was still noticeable to him, but he liked it and thought it suited her. This train was quite full, and Bucky had to stand, hanging on to the loop while Gladdie sat in front of him, taking a seat after a man got off at the first stop.  

He could hear almost every conversation going on in the car but at least it sounded happy, as the theatre goers went over their experience. Focusing on Gladdie kept his mind away from the other conversations and for once, he didn't feel overwhelmed at the background hub of voices.

"We're the next stop," Gladdie informed him after the car pulled away from the third stop in and Bucky prepared to offer her his hand to stand.

Finally, they were out of the car, out of the station and on the street in the dark. As they got closer, he realized he didn't want the evening to end. Even though Gladdie was quiet and somewhat introverted he found her serenity helped him stay calm. He had never been on a date like this, even though they weren't technically on a date, but he liked being with her, liked being seen with her. On the street where she lived, Gladdie slowed her pace, making Bucky realize she might be trying to make this last longer as well. Seeing a place in the shadows under a tree on the boulevard he pulled her gently to the tree and gazed at her in the dark. Even there her face glowed, and he thought again of how beautiful she was.

"So, can we meet tomorrow?" he asked. "At the station where we transferred would be a good meeting place."

"Okay," she agreed. "What time?"

"Is 11:30 okay?" he asked. "We can go for a walk in Central Park then have some lunch."

"I'll be there," replied Gladdie. "We should exchange numbers, just in case there's a problem."

She pulled a pencil and paper from her clutch writing her phone number down. Bucky wrote his down on another piece of paper, and they exchanged slips. Then he ran the back of his fingers up her cheek before leaning down to kiss her. Not pressing her, he kept it gentle, his mouth barely open, keeping his tongue inside his mouth, guessing that she needed to have the choice to come to him for more. When she did put her hands on his shoulders, he wrapped his right arm around her a little tighter, loving how she moulded her soft form to his. He lengthened the kiss for several moments before releasing her. Licking his lips, he gazed down at her.

"I really like you," he said gently. "If I had been your fiancé I wouldn't have rested until you were back in my arms. Bert was an idiot."

She smiled but didn't contradict him. Then she stepped away from the shadow under the tree and went up the steps of the row house, opening the door and stepping inside. He watched the windows for a moment, then saw a light from a window on the third floor turn on and Gladdie appeared, opening the window and looking out, raising her hand to him. Stepping out from the shadow he looked up at her and tipped his hat. With a smile he turned away and began the long trip back to Brooklyn, feeling better than he had in a long time.

Chapter Text

The apartment was dark when Bucky arrived back from escorting Gladdie home, except for a sliver of light under Steve's door. A hint of female laughter told him Peggy and Steve were still awake, and he went to his room, closing the door and opening the window. The night sounds of the city entered his room, enough to drown out the sounds of the couple making love. He was truly happy for them but had been initially envious that while he seemed mired in depression over the loss of his arm, Steve and Peggy's relationship had bloomed into a full-blown passionate commitment.

Sitting in the dim light of the small lamp mounted on the wall above the bed, with his back against the headboard in his boxers and undershirt, Bucky lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke out as he thought more of this evening. Gladdie ... shit, if he had known someone like her was in the Bronx, he would have been there a long time ago, looking. She was incredibly beautiful, not just in a physical way, obviously, but also in how she was both strong and vulnerable at the same time. Something had happened to her though, something bad. He knew it by the way her eyes panicked a couple of times. It made him want to put his arms around her and hold her until she felt safe, except he only had one. How could he protect her with only one arm?

He took another drag of his cigarette then looked at the cigarette pack on the nightstand. Perhaps he should consider quitting the habit. They didn't relax him the way they did before the initial treatment of serum he received from Dr. Zola, that fucking little madman. Even alcohol had no effect on him anymore, as Steven Grant explained how his metabolism had increased so much it burned through anything he ingested quicker than it could affect his brain. If he had remembered that while he was lying broken in that snowy ravine, he might have told Steven to shove the serum up his ass. But he chose to live and that meant he needed the new serum to heal properly, except for the arm ... it always came back to the arm, something the two versions of him seemed to have in common.

Dr. Erskine determined that the two different serums present in Bucky's body were in conflict with each other, preventing the arm from regrowing. The only solution he thought would make it work was to overdose Bucky with the Erskine serum, then bombard him with the Vita-Ray radiation, the same treatment that Steve got. The serum would supposedly fix what was broken in his body, somehow recognizing that his arm needed regenerating. But it was still only a theory. Erskine couldn't say for sure if it would work. At least he was honest about that.

The second alternative was to fit him for one of Stark's prosthetic arms, ugly, mechanical things that looked like something out of a horror story. Even Steven Grant had felt that Stark had missed the mark on his creations after he saw the prototypes in the lab, while Stark was searching for the Tesseract. The man could design the most beautiful, sleek cars ever seen but his best attempt at an artificial arm looked inhuman. Since Grant returned to England, Stark didn't seem much interested in the prosthetics, not with the new toy he found on the bottom of the ocean.

The third alternative was to leave him with the stump and assign him to a desk job or release him from the army outright. Job prospects for a one-armed man were limited, although he could probably use the GI Bill to go to college. Other men did it; there was no reason he couldn't, except he felt there was something greater for him, something that would make use of his rare physical abilities. Regardless, at some point he would have to make a decision.

Stubbing out the cigarette, in the ashtray Bucky turned off the overhead lamp and pushed his feet and legs under the covers. Lying there with his right hand under his head he thought again of Gladdie, of how she readily touched his stump over top of his uniform so that he could have the semblance of leading her while they danced, the softness of her body while he held her and of how her lips felt on his when they kissed. There was a depth to the still waters she allowed him to see, of that he was certain. He had never met a woman like her before, who had that kind of effect on him. Closing his eyes, he pictured her face as she looked out her window at him before he left. The image calmed him, and he soon fell asleep.

"How did it go after you left?" asked Steve, the following morning at breakfast. "Did you take her straight home?"

"No, we went for something to eat," replied Bucky. "We talked then I took her home."

"The Bronx, isn't that what she said?" Steve looked at him for confirmation. "That's quite a distance to go if you're going to see her again."

"We're meeting at the transfer station in Manhattan this morning at 11:30," he replied. "I like her. She's quiet but she has substance."

Steve glanced at Peggy, seeing her slight smile. After Bucky and Gladdie left the dance together, she told him that there was definitely something between the couple. When they got home, and saw that Bucky was still out, she was certain he was with the former mechanic.

"What are your plans after you meet?" she asked.

"Central Park, lunch," answered Bucky, trying not to sound too excited. "Nothing fancy. I just want to get to know her better."

The shared telephone out on the landing rang and Bucky froze for a moment, wondering if it was Gladdie cancelling their date, but no one came to the door to tell him he had a call and he relaxed, finishing his meal. Peggy noticed his reaction to the phone, then looked at her watch.

"I'll wash up, Bucky," she offered. "You need time to shower and shave if you have to meet her at 11:30."

"Thanks, Peg," he smiled, appreciating the favour. "Next time, I'll take care of your dishes."

Gathering his robe and his shaving kit he went into the bathroom and stripped down then stepped into the shower. He only took a few minutes then after drying, lathered his face up and began shaving. As long as he didn't try to rush things, he could manage it on his own. Once he was satisfied, he applied some aftershave then he put hair cream in, just enough to tame his mop as he combed. Since he had the serum, his hair grew so fast that it was hard to keep in check sometimes. Because it was already warm outside, he decided to wear civilian clothes, trousers, a short sleeved off-white shirt that still covered his stump, and a light suit jacket over it. He checked himself in the dresser mirror of his room before picking up his wallet and keys.

"I'm off," he said to Steve and Peggy, who were just finishing putting the breakfast dishes away. "I'll be back for dinner with my folks."

"Have fun," said Steve.

"Punk," replied Bucky.

"Jerk," said Steve, both of them grinning at their usual routine.

On the train less than 10 minutes later Bucky realized he should have bought Gladdie some flowers. Before the war that would have been the first thing he thought of. He must be losing his touch. As the car approached the station and squealed to a stop he got out onto the platform and looked for Gladdie's pale blonde hair. In the crowd of people milling about, he couldn't see her at first then it was if everyone parted and he saw her, standing in the middle of the platform, gazing at him with a soft smile on her face. She wore a blue blouse tucked into a blue skirt and he thought he hadn't seen anything as beautiful as her at that moment.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked, when he came up to her, the other commuters mostly stepping around them, although they were bumped the odd time.

"Just a few minutes," she replied, then she took his right arm, and they walked outside into the warmth of the late morning.

Happy just walking together they said nothing for a while, until they came to an empty park bench, sitting on it. Turning so they could face each other they smiled, still somewhat shy in the other's presence.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"Really good," she replied. "You?"

"Once I thought of you, I slept like a baby," said Bucky. "I still have the odd nightmare but didn't last night."

"Me too," said Gladdie, then looked away, closing her eyes briefly. "I might as well tell you now." He looked at her, concerned. "I had a bad experience in England, just before I demobbed. My third time as a driver I found myself in a situation. I had to wait at a private club for the colonel I was driving, and it was very late at night. It was so warm that I couldn't wait in the car, so I stood outside." She began to breathe shakily. "It felt ... it felt like I was drowning, and I couldn't do anything to help myself. They were men I worked with, who constantly harassed me, and there just were too many of them, wanting one thing. I didn't even know they were there, otherwise I wouldn't have gone."

"Gladdie, you don't have to talk about it," said Bucky, squeezing her hand as he understood what happened by how she worded it. "I'm sorry you experienced that. I don't understand what happens to some men when they do something evil like that."

"It's alright," she said, swallowing noticeably. "Someone helped, a special agent in the intelligence services and his team. He came out of the dark and pulled them off of me before they could go through with anything. It was like they weighed nothing at all with how far he was throwing them into the distance. Then he picked me up and carried me in his arms all the way to the base hospital while his team took the others into custody. He was so angry at the colonel for leaving me outside alone in the dark. One of the nurses told me that after I was sedated, he went back, found the colonel and thrashed him for putting me into danger. He stayed in touch with me and testified against all of them at their court martial, after making sure they all faced charges."

"Sounds like he was a good friend to you," said Bucky, inwardly impressed at whoever the man was. "Do you still see him?"

"No, he was preparing for a mission," she said. "It was all very hush-hush. That was a month ago."

Bucky gasped slightly, suddenly realizing who she was talking about. "Was it Special Agent Grant?"

"Yes, that was his name. Steve Rogers reminds me of him. You know him?"

"I do know him," said Bucky, feeling thankful that Grant was there to intervene on the assault by those men. "How are you holding up?"

"I have good days and bad days," she answered, then she looked him in the eye. "Yesterday was a very good day."

"It was a good day for me as well," he added. "Did you tell me this so that I would understand when you have a bad day?"

Gladdie looked down for a moment then back at him. "Partly. I think you're going through something similar. There's a look in your eye that I see sometimes when I look in the mirror. We've both been hurt, deep down. It's probably why we felt something for each other."

That wasn't something he expected to hear, that she felt something for him. For several moments he searched for the right words to comfort her, but it was like his mind went blank. Then without thinking twice he made a decision, and it was like a dam within him burst as he spilled out everything that was troubling him.

"HYDRA did start to make me a super soldier, but Steve rescued me before they could finish the job. They started the rumours to discredit me when I joined the Howling Commandos. None of the others believed that, not with the missions we went on. We found the guy who was spreading them there and arrested another one here recently, but I still hear the whispers when I'm out and about. My fall happened after I was blown out the side of the train by a HYDRA soldier firing at me point blank. I almost died from the fall, but the serum HYDRA gave me kept me alive and a rescue team found me." For a moment he wanted to tell her that it was Steven Grant that found him, but he couldn't reveal that to her, not yet. "The leader knew I needed to be given more to survive and gave me a choice, because at the time he found me I had given up and wanted to die." He stopped talking for a moment and leaned closer to Gladdie while lowering his voice. "He said if I wanted to die, he would do it as a mercy. But if I wanted to live and to destroy HYDRA for what they had done to me and other soldiers that didn't survive then I had to get the same treatment that Steve did."

Gladdie said nothing but she realized by the desperate look on Bucky's face that this was something he needed to tell someone, and he was choosing to tell her. His right hand was still gripping hers, and she grasped it with both of her hands. Surprising herself she raised it and kissed the knuckle, bringing a surprised smile to his face. He leaned towards her and kissed her then, right in public, as they sat on the park bench. It was some kiss, one that she got lost in. When they parted, they both realized that people were staring at them.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, ignoring the onlookers. "Isn't it classified?"

"Yeah, but I had to tell someone who's not part of it," he replied. "Sometimes I think the people I know only tell me certain things to make me feel better, that deep down they think I don't deserve to have survived." He breathed out, looking around them. "I received more serum, right there in the ravine where they found me, and it kept me alive long enough to get me to a hospital where they had to reset almost every bone in my body. It all healed except for the arm but now they want me to undergo the rest of the process that Steve had to do to force my body into finishing the job. I'm afraid, Gladdie. I'm terrified."

"Of what?" she asked.

"If it doesn't work, I have to get a prosthetic arm." His anxious voice tore at her. "I don't want it. It's big and ugly and it makes me feel sick when I see it. But if I don't have two arms, I can't be part of the Commandos anymore and I committed to being in the fight. I feel like I've been backed into a corner, like an animal or a coward but I'm not a coward, I'm not."

His eyes became glassy, and she moved to be right at his side, putting her arms around him and holding him close. As people stared at his display of emotion, he turned his head so he wouldn't see them. In her arms he felt safe, like a refuge from the roller coaster he was barely hanging onto. He was aware of Gladdie rubbing his back, liking how comforting it felt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm not usually like this but I still have nightmares of what HYDRA did to me, and of falling for so long bouncing off the rock walls of the ravine before landing at the bottom. I was helpless, and my whole body was on fire with the pain." Gladdie reached into her purse for a handkerchief, making Bucky smirk when she offered it to him. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I like you," she said softly. "No man has ever opened up to me like you just did. I won't betray your trust."

Bucky's eyes searched her face, seeing nothing but calm compassion. "I could fall in love so easily with you," he said.

Her face blushed a little, but she still looked directly at him. "I was thinking the same thing."

Facing forward, Gladdie pulled her arm away from his shoulder and held his hand again. They both sat with their thoughts, not feeling the need to say or do anything except be in the moment. They heard the barking of a dog and saw one running away from its owner, approaching them. Bucky stepped quickly in front of it and grabbed the leash as it flapped in the air, doing it so fast that at first Gladdie wasn't sure she had seen that. The owner arrived, wheezing noticeably at the exertion, thanking Bucky profusely for snagging the dog's leash. With a nod Bucky stood, watching the man walk away then he turned to Gladdie, wanting to get away from the people still staring at them.

"Let's walk."

She took his arm, and they picked a direction, strolling at a leisurely pace. Coming upon the Conservatory Garden, they sat on a bench near a pond with water lilies already blooming. A young couple, the man in a Navy black service dress uniform, walked by, holding hands and they both watched as he gave the young woman a coin to toss into the pond. Facing away from the edge of the water she tossed it backwards over her shoulder, then laughed as they hugged and kept walking.

"I wonder what she wished for," commented Gladdie.

"Maybe she gave thanks for him coming home in one piece," replied Bucky.

"Did you have anyone before you left?"

"No, I went out with lots of women but was never serious about any of them," he replied. "Wish it were different now."

"So, you want a wife and a family and the home with the white picket fence?"

"Yes, but I don't want someone that settles just for that, do you know what I mean? I want someone who will be my partner, so we'll build a life together. I know a lot of women stepped up to the plate while the men were at war and took over a lot of jobs that needed to be done. When the men come back, the women will be told to go back to being wives and mothers. It's not right. There should be a place for any woman who wants to continue working. There has to be enough work for everyone to be happy."

Gladdie smiled at him, liking what she was hearing. It was part of her dilemma with her parents that they were trying to pressure her into being a traditional wife and mother.

"My parents are pushing me to date a young man that my father works with," she admitted. "Donald served in Europe but was taken prisoner and spent the last year in a PoW camp for pilots, until it was liberated by the Russians, and he was repatriated because his eyesight deteriorated in the camp. He's alright but there's no spark between us." She turned her soft eyes on him. "I like you much more."

"Do they know what happened to you?" he asked, as he searched her face.

"No, I didn't tell them," she smiled, sadly. "I was already secondhand goods as Bert and I were ... intimate. Knowing about the attack would make me damaged goods in their eyes as well."

"I don't see you as either," murmured Bucky. "May I kiss you again?" She nodded and he placed his hand on her neck, drawing her closer to his face. With their lips only inches apart Bucky whispered. "You're so lovely."

She kissed him, opening her mouth just enough so that their tongues gently caressed the other. It was sweet and sensual; once again she felt like she could lose herself in what his lips made her feel. For the first time since the attack, she thought of what it would feel like to have someone touching her in that manner. Almost immediately she could feel her face get hot as her body reacted to that thought and she pulled away.

"Are you hungry?" asked Bucky, sensing her reluctance. "We could get some lunch."

"Sure," she replied. "Here in the park or should we go somewhere else?"

"Whatever you want." He smiled sincerely, as he truly just wanted to be with her.

They got up and started walking again, just taking whatever path presented itself. At a small café, Bucky pulled a chair out for Gladdie and they sat, ordering coffees then deciding to each have a sandwich. After paying the bill, they walked some more, window shopping until it started to rain. Without hesitating, Bucky took his jacket off, holding it over her head and they squeezed into a doorway as it poured down, both of them looking out from under the jacket, covered just enough by it and the edge of the opening that they didn't get wet. He became very aware of how good Gladdie smelled and watched her closely as they waited for the rain to stop.

"Gladdie," he said gently, getting her attention. "Would you have Sunday dinner with me and my family?"

She was quiet for several long moments, before looking up at him.

"I would love to. It won't be inconvenient for your mother?"

"No, she always makes too much." He grinned, inwardly thrilled that she agreed. "Plus, Steve and I usually eat all the leftovers. The serum gives us a big appetite."

"Is that why you took me out to the diner last night?" she asked, teasingly. "You were hungry?"

He ducked his head and blushed a little. "I was. Plus, I wanted to look at you, sitting across from me."

She looked up at the sky from under the jacket. "It's almost stopped raining. We can go, if you want."

"I'm fine right here," he said softly, moving closer to her. "There's no rush."

Aware that he was looking at her lips Gladdie smiled shyly and stepped closer to him. Bucky lowered his face closer to hers then was suddenly pushed into her by someone coming out of the doorway.

"Stop blocking the door," snapped the man, shaking his head at the couple.

"Come on," said Bucky, putting his jacket around Gladdie's shoulders and taking her hand. "There should be a subway stop near here."

Half a block later they found the stairs and descended down them into the warm humid underground space. After Bucky paid for their fare, they went through the turnstiles and waited for the train as he took his jacket back, putting it back on with Gladdie's help, realizing he didn't mind her assisting him. Two trains stopped before the one he wanted arrived. It wasn't too crowded, and they were able to sit together, holding hands. It wasn't long before they transferred to the station where the Brooklyn elevated train ran. As it went across the Brooklyn Bridge, Gladdie turned around and looked out the window at the imposing structure, her face alight with interest.

"I've never been on this bridge before," she said, noticing Bucky watching her with a bemused look on his face. "It's a lot bigger than I thought."

"It's one of the symbols of Brooklyn," he replied. "I've been on it so many times it's old hat to me. I like seeing it through your eyes."

As the train car approached the first station after the bridge, they watched as several people got up to position themselves at the doors. Gladdie looked expectantly at Bucky, but he shook his head.

"Two more stops after this," he said. "Then a little walk."

"You came all this way after taking me home last night," she stated. "That's quite the distance."

"You were worth it." He kept gazing at her. "I'll take you home tonight as well. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone on the trains at night."

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" asked Gladdie. "You've already said it more than any fella ever has, even Bert."

"Idiots," replied the dark-haired man, smiling. Then he placed his face next to her ear to whisper softly. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

The sound of Gladdie's heart pounded in her ear, and she could sense it beating against her ribs. His words were like honey, sweet and dripping off his tongue. If anyone else was saying them she wouldn't believe them. Yet, there was an air of sincerity about them that she had never sensed before from anyone else. As if he could read her mind he continued whispering.

"I'll admit I've said similar things to other girls in the past but with you it's different. I don't want to say this to anyone but you, Gladdie. I wish I had met you before the war. Now that I have met you, I don't want to meet any other girl."

She wasn't sure what to say but it seemed Bucky wasn't expecting an answer as he faced forward, content to hold her hand as the elevated train continued on to the next stop. After the exchange of passengers stepping off and on, there was one more stop and she looked out the windows opposite to see what she could of the neighbourhood. It wasn't far from the Brooklyn Naval Yards and docks; the big cranes were visible from where the car was moving on the rails. Remembering that Bucky said he worked at the docks she looked up at him, receiving a smile in return. As the car began to slow down Bucky stood up and offered Gladdie his hand, helping her up from the seat. When they came to a stop the couple stepped out onto the platform then out the exit and down the stairs.

"This way," he said, when they began walking.

Surprisingly to Gladdie it felt much like the Bronx, with the same brownstones, large apartment buildings and the occasional detached house. When they turned down a street there were brownstone row houses on both sides. He stopped in front of the last one on the right.

"This is my parent's home," he said. "I grew up here. The ones across the street have been converted to flats and I share one with Steve and Peggy. I thought of you for a long time last night, after I got back. You're special, Gladdie. Come and meet my family."

Holding her hand, he led her up the steps, then dropped her hand to open the door, allowing her to enter before him.

"Ma? Dad? I'm here."

Bucky's mother, a plump woman with graying hair, came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron, then stopped when she saw Bucky brought a guest.

"This is Gladdie Norton," said Bucky. "This is my ma, Winnifred Barnes. Gladdie and I met last night at the dance."

For a moment he tensed as his mother looked the tall blonde over then she stepped forward with her hand extended.

"Welcome, Gladdie," she said warmly. "You're joining us for dinner?"

"Bucky invited me, if it's not too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," said Mrs. Barnes. "Please come in."

She led them to the parlour where her husband sat in an armchair, reading the newspaper. Rebecca was sprawled on the couch, reading a book. She stood up, looking from Bucky to Gladdie then grinned.

"Dad, Rebecca, this is Gladdie Norton," said Bucky. "I met her at the dance last night. I wanted you all to meet her. This is my father George Barnes, and my sister, Rebecca."

His father stood up and shook hands with Gladdie, offering her his seat but Bucky pulled her over to the couch to sit with him.

"Gladdie just demobbed a few weeks ago," said Bucky. "She was a mechanic at headquarters in England."

"Where are you from?" asked Mrs. Barnes.

"The Bronx," replied Gladdie. "This is the first time I've been in this part of Brooklyn. It looks the same as my neighbourhood. Feels familiar."

"Mechanic? Do you plan to keep on doing that now that you're back?" asked Mr. Barnes, sitting in his armchair again.

"I'd like to," admitted Gladdie. "My grandfather taught me a lot about cars and it's a job that I get a sense of satisfaction from. Haven't found a garage willing to hire me yet but I'm hopeful."

"I'm sure you'll find someone willing to take a chance on you and if you don't you could always start your own garage," said Mrs. Barnes. "A woman can do any job a man can, as long as it's the right job for her."

"That's what my grandfather always taught me," answered Gladdie.

"Norton is your last name?" Mr. Barnes thought for a moment. "I knew a Corporal Bob Norton during the Great War, a clerk. I believe he was a mechanic and from the Bronx."

A beautiful smile erupted on Gladdie's face that made Bucky warm inside. "That was my grandfather. He volunteered even though he was technically too old. I think he dyed his hair dark to make himself look younger and took at least ten years off his age on his enlistment form."

Bucky's dad chuckled. "That was him. Small world, isn't it? How is he?"

Gladdie's smile dropped. "He passed away last year."

"I'm terribly sorry," said Mr. Barnes. "He was quite the character and a good man."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Steve and Peggy who both greeted Gladdie with smiles. When they all sat down at the dinner table Gladdie could see this was a close family, as even Steve and Peggy were treated with a familiarity that she didn't feel from her own parents. Although Mrs. Barnes wouldn't let her help get dinner ready, she accepted Gladdie's insistence on cleaning up, letting the two couples do the work. Mr. Barnes stopped for a moment to ask Bucky if he was going to have a cigarette outside while he had his pipe.

"I've quit smoking, Dad," smiled Bucky. "Doesn't do much for me anymore. But I'll come out for a talk, if you want."

Glancing at Gladdie for her okay Bucky stepped outside with his father. He sat quietly as his dad filled and lit his pipe. The older man looked intently at his son.

"She's a lovely woman." He puffed once and blew out the aromatic smoke. "I don't think you've ever brought someone home to meet us this quickly. What are your intentions?"

Bucky was quiet for several long moments then looked his father in the eye. "I want to marry her. I know it's very quick but almost from the moment I met her I feel like we belong together, like we fit together in the best way. She's the type of woman that wants to stand with her man and I want to be that man. With her I feel calm, and good about myself." He looked at the stump. "I think with her I'm finally willing to take the next step."

"Does she know what you are?" asked his father.

"Yes, I told her everything," said Bucky, meeting his father's gaze. "She didn't flinch or pull back. For me, it felt like a barrier had been lifted. I'm not afraid anymore, not if she's with me."

"Alright," nodded the older man. "We'll support you. You know I fell very quickly for your mother. Not as quickly as a day but if it's right then it's right. Mind that you treat her properly. Don't let that post-traumatic thing make you act like I did sometimes. I'm still surprised that your mother stuck with me."

After visiting for a while Mr. Barnes offered to drive Gladdie back to the Bronx. Steve asked if he could come for the ride although he really did it so that Bucky and Gladdie could sit together in the back seat. When they got to Gladdie's street Mr. Barnes parked in such a way that the couple could have some privacy as they said goodnight. Steve studied the man who had basically been his surrogate father for so long.

"He's already in love with her," he said quietly. "Peggy thinks they're made for each other."

"Maybe she was the woman he was looking for before the war," said Mr. Barnes. "Maybe he was the man she needed."

They both nodded at that observation then smiled as Bucky opened the back door and sat inside. On the ride home they talked about many things including the Dodgers, and how soon it would be before Germany surrendered, as it was now inevitable. It was probably one of the most engaging conversations the three men ever had together.

Chapter Text

It was crowded on the subway ride home on Monday afternoon, so both Bucky and Steve had to stand, holding on to the straps as Peggy sat facing them.  Both men could hear every conversation on the car and would occasionally smile at each other over some of the things they were unintentionally listening to.  Bucky found it easier to deal with the voices when he was with Steve since they recognized the famous soldier, whispering about him instead of Bucky.   He was taller than they thought, shorter than they thought, younger, older ... the combinations were funny and occasionally one or the other had to cough to avoid laughing out loud.

Steve had finally received clearance to rejoin the Howling Commandos and was preparing to leave by the weekend, flying over to France with Peggy to join the others.  Even though Bucky had a conversation with Dr. Erskine over feeling more positive about the procedure, the doctor wanted to be sure the injured super soldier was ready emotionally.  He didn't say that to everyone, couching it in other language that placed the issue on the equipment, but the understanding doctor spoke to Bucky in private for some time trying to glean the reason the young man suddenly felt better about his prospects.  Knowing that any ambivalence on Bucky's part could affect how the process affected him, Dr. Erskine wanted the sergeant to confide in him why he had suddenly decided he was ready.  Concerned that Bucky still felt some distress over his initial treatment in the HYDRA factory in Austria, Erskine wasn't totally convinced that the memories of the pain, the torture, and the feeling of helplessness as he was subjected to the memory wipe process suddenly no longer bothered him.  At the same time the older man tried to reassure Bucky that he just didn't want the sergeant to feel rushed into it.

"James." Erskine always used his given name.  "We won't undertake the procedure until we are both completely ready for it.  I am not a cruel man, but I have to be honest.  The procedure will be painful and gruelling, but you will always have the power to stop it from going further."

"I would feel better about it if you could guarantee that my arm would regrow," admitted Bucky.  "I was hoping that I could do it before Steve left.  You all must think I am a coward."

"No!" exclaimed Dr. Erskine.  "I would never think that of you.  James, you have survived a terrible fall from a great height, had to wait almost two days for help to reach you, withstood the pain of having every bone in your body broken, then reset to heal properly.  A coward would not have withstood a fraction of that, but you endured much to survive.  There is no timeline for when you are ready, but I also have to be certain that you are."

"Well, maybe it will be sooner," said Bucky.  "Since the weekend I've been feeling better about a lot of things."  Dr. Erskine looked at him expectantly.  "I met someone, and she makes me feel like I can do this."

"I'm glad to hear it, James," smiled Erskine.  "But until we're both sure we won't subject you to the procedure.  We will see how you are in the coming week and go from there."

Although Bucky was disappointed that Dr. Erskine wouldn't put him through the procedure sooner, Steve pointed out that even he underwent training for a week to gauge his suitability for it, until the decision to go ahead with him as the subject was made.

"A week or two of Dr. Erskine being sure isn't going to make a lot of difference," he rationalized.  "But it could be enough to ensure the results are successful."

The rest of the day had been spent going over the latest intelligence on the whereabouts of Dr. Zola, as well as more arrests of HYDRA sympathizers in Europe, and North America.  Even in their headquarters Bucky and Steve had been involved in the arrest of several SSR employees, identified as supporting HYDRA.  Bucky felt more anticipation about being part of the SSR in the fight against those fascists in Europe, wanting to get back there and be part of it again.

As they came up to their stop Bucky prepared to move aside to the sliding doors, bracing his feet against the deceleration.  When the car came to a stop both men let Peggy go to the doors before them, following her out to the platform, and taking the stairs to the street level.  On their arrival at the flat, Peggy went to the room she shared with Steve to get changed right away.

"You're definitely going to get married before you leave?" asked Bucky.

"We are," replied Steve.  "Even though she's coming with me, we've waited long enough.  Plus, I want you to be my best man."

"Always, pal," said Bucky, patting him on the arm.

There was a knock on the door and Bucky opened it to their neighbour, holding a piece of paper.  "There was a call for you this morning," he said.  "A dame, um, her name was Gladdie?"

Bucky grabbed the paper, read it and looked at Steve.  "You have any cash?" he asked.  "She had a fight with her parents and left.  She's been sitting at Grand Central Station all day, waiting for me to get home."

"Yeah," replied his friend, digging into his pockets, and pulling out several bills.  "You taking a cab?"

"Yeah, I wish I had known this earlier," answered Bucky.  "I could have brought her back to the lab."

He headed back out and hailed a taxi, asking the driver to take him to Grand Central Station.

"It's going to be a while to get there, buddy," said the man.

"If you get me there in less than half an hour, I'll give you a 50-cent tip," said Bucky.  "I'll give you another 50-cent tip if you wait for me."

"You got it," answered the driver.  "Never figured you army guys to be flush with cash but $1 is a good tip."

Bucky said nothing on the way there but was pleased the driver pushed the speed limit and wound his way through traffic quickly, getting to Grand Central Station in 28 minutes.  Giving the driver his first tip and the fare, he watched as the man put his busy sign up behind the front windshield.  Then he ran up the steps and into the cavernous building, his eyes adjusting to the light inside.  It took a few moments of scanning the people below before he saw Gladdie, sitting on one of her suitcases and ran down the steps towards her.  When she saw him, her face lit up in relief, and he enclosed her with his right arm as she began to cry.

"Baby, it's okay," he said, kissing her.  "I didn't get your message until we got home from the lab, and I took a cab right here.  Come on, the driver's waiting for us."

She had two suitcases with her, and he picked the bigger one up, leaving the smaller one for her.  When they got to the taxi, he put the luggage in the trunk and opened the back seat door for her, then went to the other side, sitting in on her left.  Giving the driver the nod, he sat back and put his arm around Gladdie's shoulder, pulling her close.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"A neighbour told them he saw us kissing in Central Park yesterday," she said, looking intently at his face.  "Said I was disgracing the family being seen with you.  They called me a tramp and you a traitor.  I tried to tell them the traitor was the man spreading those lies about you, but they wouldn't listen."

He shook his head in sympathy with her, pressing his lips to her forehead.  "You told them we haven't even ...," he began.

"They didn't want to hear it," she interrupted.  "My father called me some terrible names."

She began to cry, and Bucky pulled her even closer, wanting to absorb all of the pain she was feeling.

"I'm so sorry," he said.  "It's all my fault."

"No!" she looked up at him, her face animated even through the tears.  "Bucky, you're the best thing to ever happen to me.  I told them if they couldn't respect that I was in love with you then I was leaving."

He continued to hold her and kiss the side of her head then realized what she just said.

"You love me?"

"I love you," she replied.  "As soon as I said it to them, I believed it.  I'd follow you anywhere.  We don't even have to get married."

"No, no, we're getting married," he said firmly, pulling away and cupping her face with his hand.  "I love you, too.  I want a life with you, all of it.  Will you marry me?"

"You love me that much?" she asked.  "We've only known each other a few days."

"I don't care," he replied, searching all of her face as if he was committing it to memory.  "I knew when I first saw you that you were special.  Marry me, Gladdie.  Be my wife and I'll do all that I can to make you happy."

She smiled and nodded, saying yes over and over again.  Bucky kissed her everywhere on her face, before finishing on her lips, kissing her fiercely.

"Mazeltov," said the driver, looking at them through the rear-view mirror.  "First proposal in my taxi."

"Thanks," grinned Bucky.  "We may need you to drive us to city hall tomorrow for the licence."

The driver handed a card back to Bucky.  "Just call the number and ask for Daniel Levinson.  That's me."

"Bucky, I have some money in the bank," said Gladdie, gazing at him earnestly.  "It's not much but it's enough to set up a flat."

"We can stay where we are for now," he said.  "It's a two-bedroom flat and it's affordable but we'll share it with Steve and Peggy for a few days.  They're getting married this week as they're both going to Europe on the weekend to join the Howling Commandos.  We'll have it to ourselves once they leave."  He looked troubled for a moment.  "If I have the procedure and it's successful, I'll have to go to Europe as well, but you can live with my parents while I'm gone, if you want to save money.  They like you; you know.  They'll want to be there when we get married."

"They won't disapprove?" she asked, seeming worried.  "I only met them yesterday."

"No, they already know how I feel about you," he smiled.  "They'll be happy for us.  I know it."

She rested her head on his shoulder, wanting to believe his words, but after what happened with her parents Gladdie wondered if Bucky was being overly optimistic.  Part of her was worried about Steve and Peggy's reaction, even though she had met them twice and got along with them.

"I've got savings as well," said Bucky, "and we can open a garage together.  You can manage it and when I'm done with the Howling Commandos, we can work together fixing cars and motorcycles.  I want you to be happy, Gladdie, and I know working on motors makes you happy."

"You'd do that for me?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'd do anything for you," he replied softly.  "I love you."

On their arrival, Bucky paid the driver, thanking him for waiting at the station, then pulled the luggage out of the trunk.  As the couple stood on the street in front of his parent's brownstone Bucky hesitated, looking between his parent's home and the building with his flat.

"This is your choice," he said.  "You can stay at my parent's place in the spare room, or you can live at the flat in my room with me, although the bed is a single.  We don't have to do anything before the wedding.  You don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"I'll stay with you but maybe the night before the wedding you can stay with your parents.  You know, so the groom doesn't see the bride on the day of the wedding until the ceremony."

"Yeah, we can do it that way," he replied, hugging her.

She looked so perfect on the sidewalk, wearing a pretty dress, with her hair up in her French roll.  Her fair skin and green eyes were in contrast to his bright blue eyes and dark features, drawing several looks from people walking past them.  Taking her larger suitcase while she took her other one, they crossed the road and stepped up into the other brownstone, going up the stairs to the third floor.  The door was unlocked, and Bucky opened it for her, allowing her to enter first.  Steve and Peggy came to the entry way from the kitchen.

"Are you alright?" asked Steve.  "Your parents didn't hurt you?"

"No, they didn't touch me, although they were pretty cruel with their words," said Gladdie.  "I'm going to stay here and we're going to get married."

She glanced away for a moment, unsure if she wanted to see their reaction but both Steve and Peggy touched her arm.

"It's the right decision," said Peggy.  "You'll be safe here and Bucky will be good to you."  She looked at Steve briefly before returning her attention to the other couple.  "You know, you could get married before we leave on Sunday morning.  I know Steve has always wanted to be best man for Bucky."

"When is your wedding?" asked Gladdie, glancing at Bucky.  "That's awfully quick."

"Friday, we're getting the licence tomorrow," said Peggy.  "I would be honoured if you would be my maid of honour.  You could do it on the same day."

Gladdie's mind was overwhelmed with the possibilities until Bucky came to her rescue.  "Let's see how my mother feels about one big luncheon or two smaller ones," he said.  "She offered to host a wedding lunch for these two.  If we have everyone already there, then it should be no big deal to make it for both of us.  You'll need to come to the lab with me tomorrow as they'll want to run a security check on you."

"Alright, let's go ask your mother about Friday," smiled Gladdie.  "That gives us some more time to get to know each other better."

As the couple went across the street to check with Mrs. Barnes, Steve put his arms around Peggy.

"You don't mind sharing our wedding day?" he asked.

"No, I like her very much and I think she just needs some support," she said.  "There's already a file on her.  I noticed it today."

Steve looked at her, questioning why.  "It arrived a few weeks ago with the courier.  She was based at Camp Griffiss so she already had security clearance to be there."  Peggy's face became serious.  "There was an incident.  A colonel requested a driver for an evening visit to a private club of ill repute.  Somehow, she was assigned which should never have happened.  Several soldiers waiting around took advantage of her vulnerability and attacked her.  Steven Grant was nearby with his team, as they were doing some night training.  He intervened and carried her back to the base hospital in his arms.  His team took the soldiers involved into custody, then he went back and pulled the colonel out of the club by his collar.  Don't have to tell you what happened next.  They kept her available in the motor pool to testify in the court martials, but she didn't go back out as a driver after that.  As soon as the court martial ended Grant arranged for her to be released from duty and flew her back here on the courier aircraft."

"You don't think he arranged for her to be at the dance, do you?" asked Steve.  "He's the one who told me about it although it was just after I woke up."

Peggy shrugged.  "Probably a coincidence since it happened after he went back, but seeing how protective Bucky has become of her I'm guessing she's told him what happened to her.  It would explain how quickly they connected.  You yourself have noticed that he's been much happier in the last couple of days."

"I have noticed," answered Steve.  "He was beginning to worry me and there was no way they were going to subject him to the full treatment in his state of mind.  I did want to be there for him before we left, having gone through it before."

"He'll be alright," said Peggy, touching his cheek.  "I saw him talking to Dr. Erskine today and it seemed to be a much more positive conversation."

The sound of laughter on the landing outside the apartment drew their attention.  The door opened to Bucky and Gladdie entering, both of them looking extremely happy.

"It's all set," said Bucky.  "We'll get married Friday, Ma said it's no bother to have our luncheon with yours.  While you're at your hotel for your wedding night, we'll have our wedding night here."

Gladdie looked at Bucky with adoration, but Steve shook his head in disagreement.  "You should at least have your wedding night somewhere nice, with more privacy and less crying from the Delgado baby," he said.  "The Hotel St. George has a deal for military personnel.  That's where we're staying.  Bucky, you should call them."

He took the suggestion with a smile.  Dinner was almost ready, and the two couples ate and talked throughout dinner, then all of them pitched in to clean up after.  Steve put the radio on and sat in the armchair while Peggy sat on his lap.  Bucky and Gladdie sat on the sofa, holding hands.

"Do you want to let your parents know about the wedding?" he asked.

"I guess I should, but I don't expect that they'll show up," she replied.  "They told me if I walked out the door not to come back."  She laid her head against Bucky's shoulder, and he shifted so he could put his arm around her.

"My dad will give you away, if you want," he offered.  "Rebecca's thrilled to be a flower girl for both of our weddings."  He squeezed her shoulder and kissed her on the side of her head.  "I'm actually getting married."

Gladdie turned to look at him with a grin on her face.  "So am I."

"We should pick out a song for our first dances," suggested Steve.

The two men and Peggy threw song choices back and forth then Gladdie cleared her throat and they all looked at her.

"I've always been partial to The Man I Love by Billie Holiday," she said.  "It's full of emotion and it was the first song we danced to on Saturday night.  You two could pick something different but it fits how I feel about Bucky."

"It's a good song," agreed Bucky.  "Remember when we saw her in the club in Harlem singing that, Steve?"

"Yeah, that was just after I turned 21," he replied.  "Didn't she say then she had just recorded it and it would be out in a few months?  Peggy, are you okay with it?"

"I think it's a good song, but we'll have to find a copy," she said.

Bucky disappeared into his room, coming back with a 78-rpm disc inside a sleeve.  Handing it to Steve, he took it out of the sleeve, placed it on the phonograph, cranked it up, and dropped the needle at the beginning of it.  Reaching out with his right hand to Gladdie, Bucky pulled her close as Steve did the same with Peggy.  The couples danced to the sultry sounds of Billie Holiday, with Bucky even attempting some fancy moves that made Gladdie laugh.  When the song finished, he looked at her with definite love.

"That's the song I want," he murmured.

Steve twirled Peggy around.  "What else do you have in your room, Bucky?  Let's dance some more with our girls."

With a smile he pulled Gladdie into his bedroom to help search his box of records, and she saw the narrow bed in the corner of the room.  Above it was a lamp, and a crucifix; on the nightstand were pictures of his parents.  On the dresser were his hairbrush and comb.  Beside the dresser was a single chair and beside that a box filled with records.  Bucky looked up from where he was flipping through his records and came over to where she was standing, gazing at the minimal furnishings.

"I can sleep on the couch so you can have the bed," he said.  "The crucifix was here already.  I'm not religious."

"It's not that," she answered, turning to him.  "I'll share your bed, although I don't know if I'm ready to be intimate yet.  We can take the cross down because it doesn't mean much to me either.  There's nothing of you in here, except for your parent's pictures and maybe the records.  Who's the real Bucky?"

He ran his hand through his hair then took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

"I kind of lost him for a while," he admitted.  "I'm interested in many things, astronomy, literature, how things work, but I've always worked with my hands, ever since I got on at the docks.  If it hadn't been the Depression, I think I would have gone to college, but I didn't save enough once I started working because I liked to go out, dance, and have a good time.  Then the war came, and I was drafted.  They trained me to be a sniper which meant I was made a sergeant.  I never wanted to be that, but it was my duty and I accepted the responsibility."  He pulled her over to the bed, sitting on it.  "When they put the serum in me, in that HYDRA factory, I was dying.  They figured I had severe pneumonia, plus my ribs were broken from beatings, and I was worn down by war, killing, and being responsible for men's lives.  While I accepted that my body had changed, I changed as well, but not necessarily in a good way.  I began taking risks, putting myself into dangerous situations, maybe not being a good person all the time.  Outwardly, I'd say I was fine but inside I was terrified at what I had become.  I never had a choice in it, not like Steve.  He was given the choice and readily accepted it as it was the only way he could join the army."

Steve appeared at the door and looked solemnly at Bucky, nodded, then closed the door, leaving the couple to talk in private.  Bucky knew his friend had heard what he was telling Gladdie.  It was important that she knew it all before they went any further.

"Steven Grant could tell that I was struggling, and tried to help me, tried to help Steve understand what I was going through.  There were others on Grant's squad who knew as well and they tried but some things, well, a man just has to work through it himself.  That train that I fell off of?  I wasn't supposed to be on that mission.  Grant gave me a direct order.  Even though his title was Special Agent his rank was Major, and he ordered me not to get on that train."

"You actually worked with him?" asked Gladdie.  "He never said a word about rescuing you or knowing you or Steve and Peggy."

"He wouldn't," replied Bucky, his mouth set in a grim line.  "Remember how you said Steve reminded you of him?  There's a reason for that."  He looked at her intently.  "Steven Grant is Steve Rogers, except he ended up in the future, in the 21st century, but still a young man.  So did I, but not the same way he did.  When he woke up, he was still Steve Rogers, but I was something else, a weapon, made to kill for HYDRA.  They got their hands on me after I fell from the train and turned me into something terrible.  They found a way to freeze me until they needed me to kill for them and kept me like that until Steven found me and fought against me in 2014.  He came back in time, Gladdie, to stop them from taking me.  He didn't want me on the train so that I wouldn't fall, and HYDRA wouldn't get me, but I just had to prove him wrong, that I wouldn't fall, and that I had control over my own fate."

He stopped talking for a moment, reliving that day, when he took the full blast of the weapon the HYDRA soldier fired at him, a weapon so powerful it knocked a hole out of the side of the train.  He told her how he had been holding Steve's shield in front of him, how it took the majority of the blast, but the impact knocked it out of his hands.  He was sent hurtling out into the air, away from any hand hold to grasp at on the side of the train, and he fell, screaming all the way, hitting the rocky sides of the chasm, feeling his bones break with every contact until he landed at the bottom hundreds of feet below, and finally passed out.   Gladdie said nothing, but she didn't pull her hand away or get up.  A spark of hope remained in Bucky that she would accept him still.

"You said before that a man found you and gave you the choice to live or die," she said.  "Tell me about that."

"When I fell, Steve and Gabe took control of the train, and radioed the Howling Commandos, telling them what happened," he said.  "They radioed a base in Italy where Steven Grant was with his team.  He wanted to be close enough in case I still fell.  He remembered approximately where I landed, and they came looking for me.  By what the future me told him he had less than two days to get to me before HYDRA found me.  Until he got there, I was alone for two days, broken, freezing ... I had to fight off a wolf on my own.  Killed it even though my good arm was broken.  That's when I lost hope and just wanted to drift off.  Grant drove his squad hard to get to me and when they did get there, late on the second day I was delirious with pain, every bone in my body was broken and my arm was gone.  I vaguely remember saying I wanted it to be over, and it angered him.  He put his hand around my throat and said he would kill me if that's what I truly wanted.  Then I guess I didn't want to die because I began to struggle and fight against him.  He gave me a shot of Dr. Erskine's serum and within minutes I was lucid enough to know I had messed up really bad by disobeying his order.  They splinted my limbs, and four of them with the greatest strength, carried me out on a stretcher, while the others covered our backs.  We took fire and they fought for me, Gladdie.  God knows I didn't deserve it after being the ass I was, but they got me back to safety in Italy.  I had to have every bone broken again to reset it properly because the serum had already begun to do its job, knitting the bones together even though they were out of place.  Then I was flown to England to recuperate for several weeks then back here after that.  A single vial of serum could fix the rest of me but couldn't bring my arm back."

"So, you were alive, and healing but you were hurting deep inside," said Gladdie, her face full of compassion.  "You must have retreated into yourself.  When I was in the hospital in England and just after they released me, they called it melancholia.  Said it was extreme grief over losing something.  I guess for me it was losing my trust in people.  During the court martial, the officers assigned to defend the colonel who was charged with putting me into danger tried to say all I had to do was leave but as a corporal who was ordered to stay and wait for a superior officer you know that if you disobey and leave, you're in trouble.  Thank goodness, Steven Grant was there, and General Phillips was on the tribunal because they refused to let it become my failure to recognize the danger I was in.  That was when I began to get my trust back.  You lost trust in yourself, didn't you?  As well as grieving over losing your arm."

"Yeah, I did," agreed Bucky.  "My body was better, but my head wasn't, still isn't completely.  That procedure that could perhaps restore my arm would only work if I was sure about myself and I wasn't, not until I met you.  You didn't let my arm bother you.  There was no pity in your eyes or hesitation to put your hand on my stump when we danced.   You were the first person to ask me what happened in a straightforward way.  I think I fell in love with you right then.  It was like you were the woman I was looking for before the war but never found until you left the Bronx, and I left Brooklyn, so that we could meet in Queens."

Her smile warmed Bucky and he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around her, but she hadn't returned his sentiment now that she knew more, and he was sure there were more questions.  The fact she was still holding his hand had to count for something.

"Can you tell me what this procedure is that will restore your arm?"

He nodded, then breathed out noticeably, knowing she wasn't cleared to know this, but she needed to know before committing to a life with him and he wanted her, so very much.

"I'll receive multiple doses of the super soldier serum, at one time," he said.  "It will be injected directly into my muscles.  While that's happening, I'll be inside an enclosed chamber and be dosed with high levels of Vita-Ray radiation.  It's the same treatment Steve had.  Dr. Erskine believes it will shock my body into regrowing my arm, as the serum will try to fix what's still broken."  He licked his lips before telling her the rest.  "It will also add more height and weight to my body, so I'll be big like Steve.  It's going to be painful and although I want you to be there while it's happening it might be hard for you to bear."

"How soon after will you leave for Europe?"

She gazed into his eyes, and he could see worry in them, worry for him, and for them both.

"I don't know, as they'll likely need to do tests on my strength and dexterity before clearing me for active duty," he replied.  "I meant what I said about setting you up with a repair garage.  I don't want you pining away for me.  You need to keep busy doing something you like.  I'm coming back to you, Gladdie.  I plan to have a long marriage with you and as many kids as you'll grace me with, even if that's none.  When we've flushed out all of HYDRA, I'm coming back to you.  I know this is a big ask, but I'm asking you to trust that I won't take anymore unnecessary risks."

"Alright," she said simply.  "I trust you, more than anyone.  But I want something in return from you, Bucky.  I want ... I want to be carrying your child before you go.  If anything happens to you then a part of you will be with me, always.  I also want you to promise that when you come back, you leave all the fighting behind, and we build our life together."

"What if another war happens and I'm drafted again, or if HYDRA reappears?" he asked.  "I have to answer the call, especially with my physical abilities."

"Those are the only times," she replied, after considering his words.  "But if we go back to war so soon, it doesn't say much for humanity, does it?"  She looked directly at him.  "Is that asking too much?"

"No, not at all."  He took a deep breath.  "Alright.  I'll stay available for duty, but it won't be my life.  You will be my life; you and our family."

"Do you need anything from me?" she asked.  "I'll stay faithful to you, and live here, in this apartment because I would rather be closer to your parents than to mine right now.  If we manage to find a place to open a garage before you leave, I'll work there.  If not, I'll wait for you to return.  I can take business courses while you're gone, so that end of it is clear to me."

"You'll write me and send me pictures?" he countered.  "As much as you can, so I don't miss out on anything."

With a smile, she nodded, then she caressed his face and kissed him, softly at first, then she opened herself to him and they kissed passionately, both of them allowing the other completely past their defences.  Neither of them could remember ever feeling this way about anyone before.  It was like they were always meant to be together.

When they came out of the bedroom, Steve stood up, a worried look on his face.

"Are you two, okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're good," smiled Bucky.  "I told Gladdie everything.  I know she doesn't have security clearance, but I wanted her to know before she committed to a life with me."

Peggy stood up.  "Actually, she still has her clearance from her posting in England." She looked at Gladdie.  "You came back to New York on a courier aircraft, didn't you?"

"Yes, Steven Grant said General Phillips had me assigned to be the courier for that flight.  There was a driver waiting at the airfield for me and everything.  I dropped off the package at the MPs station when I arrived, then he took me home.  That was alright, wasn't it?"

Peggy smiled.  "Couriers have top secret clearance.  Your file was already in the package, confirming it.  Officially, you're part of the SSR, Gladdie, although you're on leave until called into duty."

"I didn't know."  She put her hand up to her mouth, slightly shaken by the news.  "What does it all mean?"

"It means someone wanted you to know everything about Bucky, without getting either of you in trouble," said Steve.  "I have a feeling the same someone told me about the dance when I was recovering, said I had to make sure Bucky went with us to it.  How he knew you would be there before you were even released from your service is beyond me."

"Grant?" asked Bucky.  He should have been suspicious, maybe even angry, but as he looked at the woman beside him, feeling her gentle nature glowing from her he wasn't angry in the least.  "I guess I owe him."

It was late and they had a big day ahead of them, with going for the marriage licences and taking Gladdie to SSR headquarters to confirm her clearance.  Bucky gave her privacy to get dressed for bed, waiting out in the living room with Steve, while Peggy used the bathroom.  He must have looked nervous because his friend grinned gently at him.

"What are you giving me that look for?"

"I never figured Bucky Barnes was nervous about sleeping with a dame," said Steve.  "Except, Gladdie's not just any dame, is she?  She's a lady and there's something special about her."

Bucky breathed out noticeably.  "Yeah, a bunch of guys in the motor pool tried to take advantage of her.  Grant intervened and made sure they were prosecuted.  You know she was stationed close to where we were.  I could have met her then but because she was engaged, she didn't go out when she had leave.  They all thought she was stuck up, but she was just trying to stay in the background.  There I was, chasing anyone wearing a skirt and she was there all along, except I didn't see her."  He grimaced.  "I don't deserve her."

"Sure, you do," said Steve, gently.  "You've been a gentleman with her since you met.  You've always been respectful of women but with Gladdie, you've been on another level.  I think you're good for each other, Bucky.  I believe that."

"I'm waiting for our wedding night."  The dark-haired man looked at his friend.  "I want this to last, Steve.  I want to have children with her, grow old with her, and be with her until death do us part.  Never thought I would feel that way about any woman, but I do, with her."

Peggy came out of the bathroom then and Bucky picked up his pyjamas and robe, smiling slightly at her and at Steve.  When he came out of the bathroom, the living room was dark, and they were in their room.  He knocked on his door and heard a faint "come in." Gladdie was sitting on the edge of the single bed, wearing a red and white polka-dotted robe, with her hair let down at the back.  Bucky put his folded-up clothes on the chair, took his robe off and sat next to her, offering her his right hand.

"I can sleep on the couch if you're more comfortable that way," he said quietly.  "I don't mind, really."

"No, I want to be close to you," she said.  "I haven't been close to any man since before I left for England.  Before we get in bed, I just want to ask if you would do one thing?"

"Sure."  He turned a little towards her, giving her all of his attention.

"Would you let me see your stump?"

He expelled an anxious breath, then clamped his jaw shut, swallowing before he stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt.  For a moment he had trouble and became flustered, then Gladdie gently put her hands on his right hand.

"Let me," she offered.

With a brief nod, he dropped his hand and watched as she undid the rest of the buttons, then opened his shirt.  He was still wearing a sleeveless undershirt underneath and she smoothed her hands over his chest while looking up at his eyes.  His nervousness was evident, and Gladdie placed a palm on his cheek, then raised herself slightly to kiss him.

"It's alright," she crooned.  "I'm not afraid of what it looks like, and you shouldn't be afraid to let me see it."

His voice was barely above a whisper.  "It's hard for me.  I feel broken."

"We're all broken in one way or another."  Once again, she was focused intently on his eyes.  "It's just more visible in you.  You're still beautiful, inside and out."

His eyes teared up, then he nodded, and she began to remove his pyjama shirt from his shoulders, displaying the stump where his left arm once was.  She took his shirt and placed it on the chair, then took her robe off, revealing a sleeveless white cotton nightdress.  Gently, she ran her hand from his left shoulder, down over the joint, then along the remains of his left arm.  Looking between Bucky's face and his arm, she caressed it, using his reactions to determine if she was going too far.  He still looked down, making it difficult to maintain eye contact.

"Bucky," she said softly.  "Look at me."  He raised his eyes.  "What do you see on my face?"  Shaking his head, he didn't answer.  "I'll tell you what I see when I look at you.  I see the man I'm going to love for the rest of my life.  We're going to have children, and a life together whether he has no arm, a new arm, or an artificial arm."  She placed her hand on the middle of his chest.  "You have a good heart, and I love you, Bucky ... all of you, broken or whole.  Please, don't hide yourself from me."

Placing her right hand on his stump, she circled his neck with her left and pulled him down, kissing him passionately.  Moving as if he still had his left arm Bucky wrapped his remaining arm around her and pulled her close as he cried into her neck, a cry of both relief and surrender.  When they pulled apart, Gladdie pulled the bedclothes back and waited for Bucky to get in.  Then she snuggled under his right arm, with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.  It was a tight fit on the narrow bed, then she grinned and sat up, reaching over him to turn off the bedside lamp at the top of the bed.  In the dimness of the room, she hovered, looking down at him and he suddenly remembered looking up at her while she stood on the step above him at the train station.  Even in the dark she looked like an angel.  Now she was his angel, forever, if he wanted it and he did.  His hand caressed her back and she kissed him again.  With a soft sigh she resumed her position and breathed slowly in and out.  Gradually, Bucky's breathing matched hers and the couple fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Breakfast was a pleasant affair as Gladdie was the first one up and dressed. She made herself at home in the kitchen, whipping up the meal for everyone, making extra because they didn't eat dinner the evening before. It was tasty, earning compliments from everyone for her cooking skills. While the others cleaned up, Gladdie got dressed, coming out to wait in the living room while the others got ready.

"So, we'll go to the city clerk's office, and get the marriage license," said Bucky, coming out of the bedroom tightening his jacket belt. "Then we'll go into the SSR office and get you set up with ID. I'll show you around and see if they'll let you into the lab. I want you to know everything."

Bucky went out onto the landing to use the phone, and called the taxi company, giving them the name of the driver. With a promise to be there in 10 minutes he told Steve and Peggy through their bedroom door that they had to be downstairs in that time.

"We'll have to stop at the bank first to get the licence fee and the taxi fare. I should take something out for lunch as well, seeing as you'll be with me," he said to Gladdie.

"It's okay, I can come back on the train," she said.

"Nope. My girl is going to be taken out for lunch. I want everyone to know I have the prettiest fiancée in all of the boroughs. After we're done at the lab, I want to get you a proper engagement ring as well."

She smiled shyly at his compliment but was pleased at his statement. Steve made the same comment about the bank when he and Peggy emerged from their room. Walking down the stairs to the entrance both men let their ladies exit before them, then Bucky noticed the taxi driver leaning against his cab across the street and waved to him.

"We need to stop at the bank first," said Bucky. "Need some cash for the marriage licences." He noticed the look the driver gave Steve. "This is Steve Rogers and his fiancée Peggy Carter. This is Daniel Levinson. He took me to Grand Central Station yesterday and brought us back."

"Wow, Captain America in my taxi," said Levinson, offering his hand to Steve. "It's a pleasure."

"Well, Mr. Levinson, if you could stop at the Williamsburg Savings Bank and wait for Sergeant Barnes and me, I would appreciate it," replied Steve, amused at the reaction of the taxi driver.

Squeezing into the back, Bucky whispered to Gladdie that she could sit on his lap if she wanted a bit more room. Shifting slightly, she placed herself in a way that his right arm circled around her. It was more comfortable than being crammed together in the back seat. It didn't take long to get to the bank and both soldiers promised to be out as quickly as they could. Levinson put a pause on his meter and turned around to smile at the two women.

"So, when's the happy event?" he asked Gladdie.

"Friday, for both of us," she replied, glancing at Peggy. "They're getting married as well."

"Keep it quiet, Mr. Levinson," added Peggy. "You know, loose lips and all that. We don't want the newspapers there interfering with our wedding day."

"Yes ma'am," he nodded. "I wouldn't want a bunch of nosy photographers ruining my wedding day. The war's going to be over soon, right? The Russians are closing in on Berlin from the east while the Allies are getting closer from the west. It's been a hard fight. You know, I read about that camp the Howling Commandos and that other unit, the Phantom Patrol, liberated. The things they were doing to people, those were crimes worse than murder."

"They were, indeed, Mr. Levinson," replied Peggy, remembering the mission on Auschwitz. "Even with the war in Europe almost over, there is still more for us to do. We can never allow someone like Hitler to be in power again."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, then he pointed towards the door of the bank. "Here come your fellas. That was fast."

Bucky and Steve were smiling as they re-entered the taxi and once again Bucky made sure Gladdie was on his lap. The next stop was the city clerk's office and Levinson put the off-duty sign on his dash, promising to wait for them. Inside, there was a small lineup at the marriage licence window, so they settled into a place at the back of the line. Just like on the train, the two super soldiers could hear whispered words of recognition, more for Steve than for Bucky. When they finally got up to the window Steve gestured to Bucky and Gladdie to go first. They offered their identification and filled out the form for a licence, both of them signing it. Bucky asked about making the appointment for the wedding ceremony and chose 09:30 on Friday morning. Stepping aside, they waited while Steve and Peggy filled out their form, with them getting the 09:45 slot. Directed to wait at the side while their licences were printed, they were patient. After a few minutes a clerk appeared.

"Barnes and Norton? Rogers and Carter?" she called. They all approached her. "Here are your marriage licences. Please be here 15 minutes before your scheduled time and bring the licences with you. If you have any questions, you can phone the office. The number is on the envelope."

—————

As they travelled across the Brooklyn Bridge on the vehicle deck, Gladdie looked out the side and back windows, marvelling at the bridge structure again. Bucky just watched her with a soft smile on his face, at the wonder on her face. Once again, he thought she was the prettiest woman he had ever met. Giving Levinson another good tip, the four of them left the taxi and entered the SSR headquarters in Manhattan. Right away, they stopped at the MPs station and Corporal Chatham straightened up.

"Agent Carter, Sarge, Cap," he said, greeting them. "Corporal Norton? We hadn't heard you had been recalled to duty."

"I haven't," she said, unsure of herself. "Actually, I'm here with Sergeant Barnes. I wasn't really told that I had been assigned to the SSR. Agent Carter informed me yesterday."

"Oh," Chatham looked from her to Bucky. "I didn't know you were acquainted with the Sergeant."

"Relax Mickey," said Bucky. "She's my fiancée. Just asked her yesterday. We're getting married Friday. Is Miss Norton permitted to enter?"

Chatham looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. "Not exactly," he winced. "She has clearance, and everything related to being a courier, but we don't have any identification for her to be in the building, yet. She'll have to wait here while you go to the security office and get that taken care of."

"I can wait here with Gladdie, while you two take care of that," offered Peggy.

"Actually, Agent Carter, I was told to send you up to the radio room as soon as you arrived," said Chatham. "Miss ... Corporal Norton can wait here at the desk with me."

Bucky took Gladdie's hand in his. "You'll be okay here?" he asked. "We won't be long. Steve will come with me, and we'll get this sorted out."

"Go ahead, I'll be fine," she smiled, then sat in a chair that Corporal Chatham pulled out from behind his desk.

The other three went through the automatic door, after Chatham buzzed them through the security gate. He entered their arrival in his log then smiled politely at Gladdie. He shifted some papers then looked at her again.

"How long have you and the Sarge known each other?" he asked. "I didn't know he was serious about anyone."

"Saturday," she replied. "We just hit it off like two peas in a pod." She smiled at the look of confusion on Chatham's face. "I know it's sudden but we're both ready to commit to someone."

The phone rang and Chatham spoke to the person on the other end then stood up.

"I have to go upstairs, briefly. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He took his keys out, opening the security gate, then locking it behind him, before disappearing behind the automatic door. For several long minutes she sat patiently until the door to the outside opened and a man, with a moustache, dressed in an expensive suit and wearing a hat, entered. He eyed Gladdie like she was something meant just for him.

"Well, hello," he said, in a tone she had heard all too often in England. "Who might you be, darling?"

"I'm Miss Norton," she replied politely, trying not to make eye contact. "I'm just waiting for my clearance."

"You're going to be working here?" he asked, standing right in front of her. "What department?"

"Could you please step back," said Gladdie, shrinking away from him.

"Sweetheart, I won't bite," he cooed. "My name's Howard." He stepped closer, reaching for her hand. "What's your first name?"

"Please." Gladdie began to get anxious. "Please, just leave me alone."

Suddenly, Howard Stark was yanked away and then he was on the ground after being punched, Bucky standing over him with his right fist clenched.

"What's your problem, Howard?" he asked. "Don't you listen when a lady asks you to back off?"

"I wasn't hurting ...."

"You weren't listening to her," repeated Bucky. "What's wrong with you?"

"Bucky, it's okay, he didn't hurt me," said Gladdie, standing next to him and reaching for his fist. "I'm alright, really."

Stark looked from her to Bucky and back again. "She's with you?"

"She's my fiancée," answered Bucky, as Steve, Peggy, and Chatham came back through the security gate. He put his arm around Gladdie, bringing her in close. "I'm sorry it took so long to get your ID. Come on. We'll let these two deal with him."

He had an ID in a lanyard and placed it over Gladdie's neck, then went back through the security gate after Chatham buzzed them through. With one last look at Stark on the floor, Bucky shook his head and led her through the automatic door. Steve offered Stark his hand, pulled him up, then went through the security gate himself, also perturbed at the man's behaviour.

"What did I do?" Stark asked Peggy, bewildered. "I didn't treat her different than any other woman."

"You really don't see how you treat women as a problem, do you?" asked Peggy. She pulled him away from Chatham and lowered her voice. "She was attacked in England by several men at once, intent on treating her the same as any other woman they had previously attacked. Just because she's attractive and doesn't react like I do to a situation doesn't mean she doesn't deserve your absolute respect, Howard. How many times did she ask you to stop?"

"She didn't say stop," he replied, annoyed, then saw the fury building on Peggy's face. "Okay, she used other words and told me twice."

"Once," stated Peggy. "You should have backed off the first time, instead of pressing yourself on her. No, scratch that ... you should have assumed from the start that you didn't have a right to treat her that way at all. You have no idea what is to be a woman in a man's world, do you? We're told to be polite, to be pretty, to be quiet, to be passive, to let a man enter our personal space because to tell him to back off would be rude to him. I know you see Bucky Barnes as competition, but he'll always be the better man than you because he can read women and he does know when they need to be treated with kindness instead of with ... with the expectation that they should let someone like you drool all over them."

With a huff, she went back through the security gate and through the automatic door, leaving Stark there, wondering why he felt like such a heel. Even Chatham frowned at him. Gathering what dignity he had left, Howard Stark went through the gate and the door, then stood in front of the elevator. He was planning to go to the procedure lab today but wasn't sure he would be welcome. Instead, he went to the prosthetics lab, figuring he might as well tinker for a while on that arm for Sergeant Barnes. Rubbing his jaw, he wondered how a one-armed man could still hit so hard, even if he had taken the serum.

In the elevator down to the lab, Bucky flexed his hand. It didn't hurt but it kind of felt good using it against that jerk, Howard Stark. He saw Gladdie's hand on his arm and looked at her, feeling incredibly protective of her.

"I'm sorry I overreacted to him," he said, quietly. "All I could see was your face and how uncomfortable you looked. Even though you were telling him to leave you alone, he kept trying to touch you."

"It's okay," she smiled softly. "It was very gallant of you. Reminded me of Steven Grant. Who was he, anyway?"

"Howard Stark, the billionaire," grinned Bucky. "I used to admire him. He's smart and has done a lot for the war effort but he's not much for being a nice guy. You're sure he didn't hurt you?"

"I'm sure. Who are we going to see now?"

Bucky's face brightened. "Dr. Abraham Erskine, the man who invented the serum. I want you to meet him. Dr. Eva Waslewski might be there as well. Don't tell anyone but she's Steven Grant's wife. They got married here before he went back to England. She's very nice. I think you'll like her."

"He mentioned her. Not by name. Said he had a letter for her in the courier package I brought back." Gladdie frowned slightly. "She doesn't go by his name?"

Bucky shook his head. "According to Grant, women in the future can take their husband's name or not. Lots of women who are doctors keep their name, to keep their accomplishment theirs and not their husband's. Do you want my last name?"

She nodded. "I want to be Gladdie Barnes, but it's kind of nice for a woman to have the choice."

The elevator door opened, and he led Gladdie into the hallway then turned towards the lab. He pointed out the various rooms, including where the procedure would happen. Then he peeked in a window on a set of double doors and nodded to her, pushing on one of them. Dr. Erskine and Dr. Waslewski looked up from a bench.

"James," said Dr. Erskine, then he noticed Gladdie with him. "You've brought us a visitor."

"Yeah, Dr. Erskine, Dr. Waslewski, this is Gladdie Norton, my fiancée. We're getting married on Friday."

"This is the young lady you just met, ja?" He shook hands with her.

"Yeah, but we're both pretty sure. Gladdie knows Special Agent Grant. He helped her out in England."

"He wrote about you," said Dr. Waslewski, coming forward with her hand outstretched. "You're the mechanic. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. He spoke of you as well. He seemed to be very proud of you. Bucky said you're working on the project that could restore his arm." The two doctors looked at each other. "I have clearance. Apparently, Special Agent Grant got it approved for me when I acted as courier. Bucky told me the details because he wanted me to know before we got married."

"We are working together on it," said Erskine, reluctantly.

"Doc, can she be there for the procedure?" asked Bucky. "I would like it if she could."

The two doctors looked at each other, unsure.

"Please," said Gladdie. "Whether it works or doesn't makes no difference to me. I love Bucky the way he is, but I know this is important to him. Since I have the clearance, I would like to be there."

"What do you think?" Dr. Waslewski spoke to Dr. Erskine in German. "She's wearing the correct identification."

"Ja, but why would Steven arrange for a mechanic to get full clearance before she ever met Sergeant Barnes?"

"The same reason he stopped you being killed, and he rescued me, then Anya," she replied, after some thought. "He knew they would get married. You know he wrote me about her; she was attacked in England by a group of men. Stefan and the Patrol just happened to be nearby and prevented it. I think he knew Sergeant Barnes needed her, needed her love and support to be ready for the procedure." Dr. Erskine still looked hesitant. "Abraham, you know Stefan wouldn't have arranged for her clearance unless there was a reason for it. She is marrying James and as his wife, she needs to know about the changes the procedure will produce in him."

Erskine nodded at that and looked at the young couple, still waiting for his answer.

"Yes, I think we can arrange that," he smiled. "Would you like to see the procedure room?"

"Please," answered Gladdie, grasping Bucky's right hand.

Together they walked to where the procedure would take place. Anya Waslewski and Lt. Hay were both there. Bucky introduced them to Gladdie, noticing how pleased the Lieutenant seemed for him. He was even more pleased with Gladdie's questions for the doctors, at how she wanted to know more about the engineering behind the capsule he would be in during the radiation part of the treatment. When she was told that part of it was Howard Stark's responsibility, she looked at Bucky uneasily.

"Oh dear, what happened won't affect his part in your treatment, will it?"

Dr. Erskine looked from one to the other. "What happened?"

"A misunderstanding," said a male voice, as Howard Stark walked in. He rubbed his jaw. "I'm sorry, Miss Norton. It won't happen again." Anya and Lt. Hay shared a knowing look. "I know, I've said it before, but I mean it this time. It was pointed out to me that I should be more respectful of the fairer sex, that they are not automatically interested in my attention to them. Now, it appears you have some engineering knowledge. What would you like to know about the capsule?"

Bucky grinned at the question she asked Howard about the stresses on the working parts of the mechanisms inside during the procedure and what safeguards had been taken to ensure his safety in the event something went wrong. At first the billionaire bristled but when Gladdie showed she was genuinely interested in the device his inner engineer took over and he pointed out the various safety features that were an improvement over the original capsule used on Steve Rogers.

"We also have a more secure power supply here," he added, "so that there are no fluctuations in what we draw from the electrical system. Sergeant Barnes will come through this with flying colours. I'm sure of it."

"Would you do it?" asked Gladdie, looking him in the eye. "Would you undergo the procedure?"

"No, I wouldn't," he admitted, then he looked down before looking at her again. "Because I'm not a good man, not like Steve Rogers was and not like Sergeant Barnes is. I have too many faults to overcome to be qualified to take the serum. I'm vain, arrogant, entitled, and I take women for granted."

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Stark," she replied. She looked at Bucky. "I'm confident it will work, and I want to be here when it does."

With that settled, Bucky showed her around a little bit more then declared that he was leaving early to get some things settled for the wedding. Together, they left the building and stood on the street for a moment. He looked at his watch.

"Do you have anything else to get from your home?" he asked, looking at her with concern.

"No, but I should go to the bank and close my account," she answered. "We could see my parents to let them know about getting married, but my dad would be at his office and my mother would be at home. His bank is near Yankee Stadium."

"Well, let's get you an engagement ring first," he smiled. "At least with that, they'll see I'm serious about being your husband. Okay?"

She nodded and smiled, taking his right arm as they walked down the street together. Bucky seemed to know where they were going and stopped at a small jewelry store a few blocks away. He opened the door for her to enter first. Half an hour later they left, with Gladdie wearing a modest solitaire diamond engagement ring. Bucky carried their wedding bands in a small box inside his jacket, insisting that he fully intended to wear one once he got his left arm and hand back. They stopped at a small diner for their lunch. Both of them were reminded of their time in the diner on the Saturday night after they left the dance. Once they were finished, both of them were ready to tackle the next part and they boarded the subway for the Bronx, getting off at the stop closest to Yankee Stadium to see her father first.

Gladdie's father, Charles Norton, was a loans manager at the bank where she kept her account. As they waited to see him, another man walked by, limping slightly and wearing thick glasses.

"June?" asked the man, looking nervously at Bucky then at her father's office. "Why are you here?"

"Hello Donald," she said politely, then turned to Bucky. "This is James Barnes, my fiancé. Donald Major is the man I told you about. He was repatriated from a PoW camp because of his eyesight. He works as a teller here in the bank. We're here to close out my account but I wanted my father to meet the man I'm going to marry."

"You're getting married?" Donald looked at her father's office again. "I thought we were supposed ...."

"I know what my parents led you to believe, but no, I wasn't interested, Donald. I'm sorry." She put her arm through Bucky's right arm. "I'm marrying Bucky."

"Well, then I guess I can offer you my congratulations," he said, grimacing slightly. "I hope that you'll be happy."

He nodded at Bucky and returned to his teller's position, opening it up to attend to the next customer in line. Gladdie squeezed Bucky's hand and smiled at him. Several minutes later her father's office door opened, and a couple came out, shaking hands with him. He watched them leave then turned to the chairs, his face darkening when he saw Gladdie. She stood up with Bucky.

"Dad, do you have a few minutes?"

"What are you doing here, June?" he asked. "Is this the man you think you're in love with?"

"Sergeant James Barnes, sir," said Bucky, stepping forward with his right hand outstretched. "Please, let's do this in the privacy of your office."

Her father looked at Bucky's hand, ignored it and went into his office, leaving the door open for them. They followed him inside, closing the door behind them. Gladdie sat first, facing her father, with Bucky seated next to her, his cap on his lap. Glaring at both of them, her father sat in his chair and leaned back, waiting for her to speak.

"Bucky and I are getting married, Friday morning at the City Clerk's office at 9:30," she stated, firmly. "We're here to tell you, in case you and Mother wish to come to the ceremony and the luncheon after."

"Are you in the family way?" he asked. "Is that what this is about?" He shook his head. "I always knew you'd end up shaming your family."

"Don't talk to her that way," growled Bucky. "I won't stand by and listen to you insult my fiancée."

"As if you're a suitable man to be her husband. I heard everything about you, Barnes. How you're a traitor to your country, a freak of nature, a man not to be trusted."

As he spoke, Gladdie could feel Bucky get tense, then angry. She stood up, shielding him from her father.

"Stop! How dare you accuse him of those things! You know nothing about him. If he's a traitor, why is he still in the army with a top security clearance? Why is he sharing a flat with his best friend, Captain America? You know who the traitors are? The people who are spreading those lies, and the ones listening to them. Shame on you, Dad. Bucky has been nothing but a gentleman since I met him. He's been kind, understanding, and I'm marrying him, with or without your blessing. I'm also taking my money out of the bank, and you better not try to stop me."

"Go then," sneered her father. "When he leaves you in the lurch, don't come crawling back because I won't take you." He pulled a slip of paper out of his drawer and scribbled on it, then handed it to her. "Take your money and never show your face around here again."

She took it, and turned away from her father, walking straight out the door. Bucky stood up slower, looking down at Mr. Norton. With deliberation he placed his cap back on his head.

"I'll be Gladdie's husband on Friday," he said. "I'm going to do everything I can to make her happy. My parents think she's wonderful and already see her as a daughter. When I rejoin the Howling Commandos to help them finish the job against HYDRA, they're going to be there for her. As far as I'm concerned, she's an orphan now and I don't want you contacting her ever again. Do you hear me, Mr. Norton? You're not her father anymore. Her well being is my concern now."

Without waiting for an answer Bucky left, then saw Gladdie in one of the teller's lines. He joined her, slipping his hand into hers. She smiled sadly at him, then her lips trembled. A teller opened and she stepped forward, telling her she wished to close her bank account as she was getting married and moving to Brooklyn. She gave them the slip from her father, giving her permission to close the account. After filling out and signing the forms she waited as the teller counted out $1456.87 to her, giving her an envelope for the bills. Gladdie put the change in her coin purse and the envelope inside her purse. Then she took Bucky's arm, and they walked out the bank together. As they walked towards the subway station, her knees buckled slightly, and she whimpered. Bucky hailed a cab, helping her in. The driver was reluctant to go all the way to Brooklyn until Bucky offered him $2 as a tip.

"Oh Bucky," she cried, looking at him with her eyes welling up.

"It's okay," he whispered, holding her close. "Let him go. My parents are your parents now. We'll take care of you."

She cried the whole way back to Brooklyn.

Chapter Text

Friday, April 6, 1945

The knock on the bedroom door was followed by Winnie Barnes' voice. "You boys okay in there? Do you need help with anything?"

Bucky opened the door, his tie deliberately undone. He smiled at his mother.

"I could use some help with this. Steve's hands are shaking too much."

She smiled back, knowing full well he was capable of doing up his military uniform tie, while Steve grinned and shook his head. There was no comment from her, she just fixed the tie up and tightened it against his collar, before smoothing her hands over the lapels of his uniform.

"Thanks, Ma, it looks perfect," he said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "Maybe check Steve's tie as well."

She looked at the man who was like a second son to her, hurrying over when he faced her with his arms open. It was obvious his tie was perfect, but she still touched it, patting him on the chest.

"Still not used to how big you got," she said. "Your mother would be so proud of the man you became."

"Thank you for being there for me after she died," he answered, leaning down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "You're family to me."

"Now, you boys get downstairs before the taxi arrives," she said, at the door.

"Yes, ma'am," they both replied, in unison, making them chuckle.

"You ready?" asked Bucky.

"I am," smiled Steve. "We're getting married, Buck. Both of us."

With a pat on each other's back the two lifelong friends went down the stairs, joining Bucky's parents and sister in the parlour. His father had a brownie camera and placed the two men so the light from the window illuminated them. Then he took a picture of them. Next, he put Winnie and Rebecca next to them, snapping another picture. After showing Rebecca how to take a picture he posed with them and Winnie.

"I better save some film for the girls," he said.

"After the ceremony could you take a picture of us in front of the Brooklyn Bridge?" asked Bucky. "Gladdie was never on it until the day I brought her home for dinner. It would be nice to have it in the background."

"Sure, son, we can do that. Any word from her parents?"

Bucky shook his head. "Her father was pretty definite that he wanted nothing to do with her. I phoned her Ma, but she didn't say yes or no. How could they do that to her? Their own daughter."

George put his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I don't know, son. Don't you worry. We're her parents now and when you go back to Europe, we'll take care of her."

"I know, but you didn't see how she cried in the taxi home from her dad's bank," said Bucky. "It broke her heart. The things he said to her were terrible. Took all of my strength not to grab him by the collar and shake some sense into him."

The face his parents made showed Bucky they were just as concerned as him about Gladdie's parents' lack of support for the marriage. All of them would just have to work extra hard to show her that she was part of the Barnes family now.

"Taxi's here!" Rebecca was looking out the window.

Bucky helped his mother on with her coat, her hat already on. She picked up her purse and went outside with the two soldiers, sitting in between her two boys, after Bucky introduced her to Daniel Levinson. They would stop off and pick up the bouquets on the way. George was driving Rebecca, Peggy and Gladdie. After locking up the house, he and Rebecca went up to the apartment, knocking on the door of the third floor flat. When Peggy opened it, she was wearing her SSR uniform, proof of how proud she was of her service.

"You look wonderful."

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes," she replied. "Please come in. Gladdie is almost ready."

She came out of the bedroom wearing a grey suit, a white silk crossover blouse underneath, with a small gold hummingbird pin on her lapel. He thought that Bucky was very lucky to find such an elegant woman to commit his life to. There was no doubt in his mind that they would be happy together.

"My dear, you are a vision," he said warmly. "What a lovely pin."

"It was my grandmother's," she said. "Left it to me after she died. I always loved it when I was growing up. She told me many times it was a symbol of hope and good luck."

For a moment, he thought she might cry, at the thought of her grandparents being happier for her on this day than her own parents were. But she took a deep breath, smiled at him and he knew she would be alright. Several of the tenants in the building came out of their doors to wish the two ladies well on their wedding day as they walked down the stairs. George opened the back door of the car for them, holding his hand out for them as they stepped inside. Then he did the same for Rebecca, bringing a pleased smile to the face of the 15-year-old girl. A short time later they arrived at the city clerk's office, parking nearby. Once again, George offered all three of them his hand as they stepped out of his car. As they crossed the street, Gladdie recognized the woman waiting next to Mrs. Barnes, and bit her lip. Her mother looked at her daughter then opened her arms to her, murmuring gently.

"Don't cry, my darling. You don't want to smear your makeup, today of all days." She looked up at Gladdie with love. "I don't care what Charles said. I'm here to see my daughter's wedding and no one is going to tell me otherwise."

"You already met Mrs. Barnes, Bucky's mother?" asked Gladdie, then gesturing to the others. "This is Mr. Barnes, his father, and Rebecca, his sister, and this is Peggy Carter. She's getting married to Steve Rogers."

Her mother nodded at them, then looked up at her daughter again. "I saw Mrs. Barnes get out of the taxi with two good looking soldiers and knew one of them was your Bucky when he came right over to me. You know he phoned me and asked me to come, for your sake. Charles was there at the time, and I couldn't say yea or nay, but once your father left for work, I got dressed and took the trains here. Bucky is a good man and I know he'll be a good husband. That's all I ever wanted for you."

"Thank you." Gladdie breathed deeply, then looked up at the building. "We better get in there."

"Here are your bouquets," said Mrs. Barnes, handing them each a small arrangement of flowers. "The boys are inside, waiting for you."

As they walked into the building, Gladdie took her mother's arm, holding on to her as they sought out the chamber where the marriage ceremonies were held. An anterior room was half full of people waiting their turn, all of them noticing how Bucky and Steve's faces lit up at their arrival. Within moments Bucky and Gladdie were called. With a glance at Steve, he asked if the ceremonies could be combined, considering their close friendship. It took a moment to bring out the paperwork for Steve and Peggy's wedding but when it was brought the clerk announced that they could begin. The two men took their places in front of the clerk, while George took Peggy's arm and Mrs. Norton took Gladdie's, walking them up to the two men, and placing their hands together.

The ceremony itself seemed not as important as the fact they were all there together, sharing this most important piece of the friendship between the two men that had started when they were boys. When the vows were made by each of the couples, it was done with great feeling, leaving no doubt of their commitment to each other. As the rings were placed on their respective fingers, Bucky gazed at Gladdie's face, still thinking of how lucky he had been to meet her. Then the clerk announced the two couples were now husband and wife, and neither man wasted any more time, each kissing their bride lovingly. The register was signed, and the permanent marriage certificates issued, then they stepped outside into the anterior room, where Daniel Levinson waited for them.

"I think someone who was already here phoned the newspapers. They're out front waiting for you. I have my taxi in the alley if you four want to get away without the press."

"I want some pictures of you four together," said Mr. Barnes. "How about we meet somewhere? They don't know us so I can take Winnie, Rebecca, and Mrs. Norton."

Bucky told his father where he thought a good picture could be taken with the Brooklyn Bridge as a backdrop. With that, the two couples followed Levinson out to the back, while the Barnes family and Mrs. Norton went out the main door. It was true; there were at least half a dozen photographers there. Walking right past them they went to the car and drove to the viewpoint of the Brooklyn Bridge. George used up most of the film taking pictures of the couples, asking Mrs. Norton to take the second last picture of the whole Barnes family, with Gladdie as part of it, then last picture of her with the couple. When that was done, Steve asked Levinson to take him and Peggy to his parent's graves so he could share the day with them. While the newlyweds went to the cemetery the others returned to the Barnes brownstone and began to prepare for the luncheon, with Mrs. Norton not taking no for an answer after she offered to help put the food out. The cake was delivered, and the neighbours began to arrive, as did several from the SSR, including Dr. Erskine, Dr. Waslewski, and Lt. Hay.

"They're here!" Rebecca yelled from the living room window. "Where's the rice?"

Several of those waiting picked up small bags of rice and assembled on the steps of the brownstone, tossing some at the newlyweds as they exited the taxi. The commotion drew the attention of passersby who watched the happy couples as they laughed and kissed before hurrying up the steps into the small reception. There were many congratulatory greetings given to both pairs. Rebecca put some music on the gramophone and helped her mother serve the guests, going around with a plate of fancy sandwiches. The taxi driver, Daniel Levinson, who had been asked to join them, gratefully took some, putting them on a small plate he was handed. Positioning himself in a corner he watched contented, as the two couples and their families seemed very happy. When the doorbell rang, and no one seemed to notice he took it upon himself to answer the door finding a delivery man with two boxes, one of them with a dry ice label on it, indicating the contents were chilled.

"I have a delivery here for a couple of weddings, Rogers and Barnes?" said the man, offering a sheet. "Sign here."

Daniel tried to get someone's attention then shrugged and signed for it, bringing the colder box into the reception area to where Bucky was talking to a neighbour.

"This and another box just got delivered," he said, pointing towards the door.

Taking the box into the kitchen, Bucky opened it to see a case of chilled champagne. Daniel followed, having gone back for the other box. Inside that one was two dozen champagne glasses, with a card on top.

Captain and Mrs. Rogers, Sergeant and Mrs. Barnes,

Congratulations on your nuptials.
I hope you all have long and happy marriages.
With the greatest of respect,

Howard Stark.

"The billionaire, Howard Stark?" asked Daniel. "You know him?"

"Yeah," chuckled Bucky. "I punched him the other day for making a move on Gladdie. Guess he's still trying to apologize." He pulled a bottle out of the box. "Pol Roger Brut Vintage 1934. Is that supposed to be good?"

Daniel shrugged. "One way to find out."

They took the wrapping and wire off the top then Bucky looked out to where Steve was, gesturing for him to come into the kitchen. Showing him the champagne and the card, Bucky handed the bottle to his friend.

"What did Dernier say about opening a bottle of champagne properly?" he asked.

"I think he said you have to ease the cork out," he replied. "If it's done right, there will be a small amount of vapour visible. If it foams out, you haven't opened it right, even though it looks spectacular."

Carefully, he worked the cork stopper out, smiling when a small puff of vapour escaped the bottle. Daniel handed him a glass to pour into then handed it to Bucky who took a sip. He made a little face then took another sip.

"It's definitely alcohol." He drank it all, wrinkling his nose as the bubbles tickled the insides of his palate. "Not bad. I could get used to it. What do you say? I'm guessing these 12 bottles are meant to be shared."

"Well, let's pour it when we're ready for speeches," suggested Steve.

With agreement from the other two he replaced the cork in the opened bottle, and they rejoined the party. When it was time for the speeches, they brought the champagne out, sharing it with everyone who wanted some. Even Rebecca was allowed to have one glass. Steve proved he had the touch as he successfully opened each bottle without wasting any of the precious liquid to foam. After George Barnes toasted the couples, and his wife for all of her hard work in preparing the luncheon, the floor was given to the two soldiers. Steve went first.

"First of all, I want to thank the Barnes family for being my second family," he said gratefully. "Ever since I was a kid, they've been there for me. Next, I would like to thank my wife Peggy for marrying me. She loved me before I became the man you see before you. She loved the skinny, little guy, with asthma, who never knew when to stay down. She's the best. To Peggy Carter ... er, Rogers."

Everyone sipped their champagne, then it was Bucky's turn. He looked around at everyone, seeing some former girlfriends there, married now and either pregnant or already mothers.

"I guess a lot of you wondered if I would ever settle down," he began. "I wondered myself. I suppose I was looking for someone particular and I found her, Gladdie, a girl from the Bronx, at a dance in Queens. As soon as I saw her, I knew I wanted to be part of her life forever. She saw me when I wasn't at my best, still dealing with the loss of my arm. But there was no pity in her eyes, just understanding and love. I'm a lucky man to have found her and I will spend the rest of my life making her happy. To Gladdie Barnes, my wife."

They all toasted her, as Bucky kissed her on the cheek. With the first dance coming up, the cake was relocated to a table in the corner and the remaining food consolidated on another table. Everything else was cleared away as Rebecca placed a record on the gramophone. The Man I Love began and the two couples started to dance to it. Bucky could see both of their mothers dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs. A neighbour who brought their camera snapped a photograph of them dancing, promising to deliver the print when they got the roll developed. When it was over, more music was put on and Bucky pulled his mother to dance with him as George danced with Gladdie. Steve danced with Rebecca, while Peggy pulled Dr. Erskine to the floor despite his protests that he was a terrible dancer.

It finally became time to wind things down, so the cake was brought out from the corner. Both couples posed in front of the large cake, cutting into it simultaneously. Gladdie held the plate with their small pieces, feeding one delicately to Bucky. He watched her carefully as she took the morsel from his fingertips. Steve and Peggy did the same. The two new wives served out pieces on the extra pieces of fine china that were borrowed for the occasion.

At some point Bucky made eye contact with Daniel Levinson, who nodded his head, put his cap on and went to retrieve his taxi. He pulled up in front of the house while the guests came outside and gathered on the sidewalk. With their new husband's each carrying a shared suitcase with a change of clothes, Peggy and Gladdie stood side by side on the stoop then faced the house before tossing their bouquets behind them. A cheer went up when they were caught by two single women who raised them as trophies. Then, with more rice showered upon them, the couples kissed the Barnes, with Mrs. Norton also receiving one from her daughter and new son-in-law. They hustled down the steps to the taxi, with Gladdie once more sitting on Bucky's lap. Pressing his horn, Daniel Levinson pulled away from the house as those left behind waved to the couples.

When the taxi pulled up to the Hotel St. George, Gladdie looked out the window, wide-eyed before turning back to her new husband.

"Bucky, this is much too grand," she said.

"They've always been good to military personnel," he noted. "Steve was right that for our wedding night it would be nice to have some privacy. Besides, you're worth it."

Daniel Levinson came around and opened the door for the two couples, before opening the trunk and pulling out their shared suitcases. He held them out to Bucky and Steve, who each took out their wallets to pay the driver who had been so helpful to both of them since the day he witnessed Bucky proposing to Gladdie in the back seat.

"Keep it, Sergeant, Captain," he said. "You two, and Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Rogers just have a good start to your marriage. I have good feelings about all of you. Call me in the morning for your ride back to your flat."

They both insisted he take something as a tip, agreeing on $2 each, then both couples approached the front desk where Bucky gave them his name first.

"Ah yes, Sergeant and Mrs. Barnes," said the clerk. "Honeymoon suite."

"I didn't book the honeymoon suite," interrupted Bucky. "Just a regular room."

"That's true, sir. A Mr. Stark insisted on the suite for you and your bride. Said it was a peace offering for the misunderstanding."

Bucky looked at Gladdie, then Steve and shrugged. If Howard Stark wanted to give them a case of champagne and pay for a premium hotel suite to apologize for trying to make a pass at Gladdie, then he was willing to take the guy's money. Nodding his acceptance of the change they waited for Steve and Peggy to be checked in, finding Howard had paid for a better suite for them as well. At first, Steve put up a fuss about accepting it, but Bucky gently shook his head at his friend.

"This time let someone do something nice for you and your wife," he said, glancing at Peggy.

Both men guided their wives onto the elevator then were joined by two bell boys who carried their luggage. Steve and Peggy's room was several doors down from theirs. Following the other bell boy to their room, they waited while he opened the door for them then stepped aside, allowing them to enter first. He pointed out the bedroom, bathroom, and closet, and showed them the menu for their breakfast to be delivered by room service in the morning by 9 am or later if they wished.

"Just leave your menu choices on the door handle of the suite before 11 pm," said the bell boy. "It's part of the suite. Checkout time is noon. Good evening, folks."

Without waiting for a tip, the young man left the couple there and Bucky locked the door behind him. When he turned around Gladdie was at the window, looking out over the East River towards Manhattan, with all the skyscrapers on the far shore still visible in the late afternoon sunshine.

"It's quite the sight," said Bucky, taking his cap off and coming up behind her. "Better from the 15th floor than from the ground. The Brooklyn Bridge never looked so good." Gladdie didn't say anything, but she did turn her head slightly towards Bucky, fully aware of his presence. "Did I tell you that you looked beautiful today?"

She nodded. "Several times." Her voice was very soft. "You looked handsome." She turned towards him. "Were we crazy to get married so quickly?"

He shook his head emphatically and searched her face carefully as he held her one shoulder. "No, I couldn't wait any longer. In basic training there were guys who met a girl on their first night of liberty and married her the following day. At the time I thought they were crazy but when I saw you, I knew why they did it. It was like everything inside of me was yelling that you were the one, the only one for me. Are you nervous?"

"A little," she admitted, "but you always make me feel better and stronger."

"You make me feel braver," he added. "Gladdie...."

He pulled her close with his right arm and kissed her deeply, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Everything about how she melded her body into his felt right, as if they were made to fit together. It felt as true now as it did the first time he kissed her under the tree on the street in the Bronx. When they broke apart, she smiled shyly at him then undid her jacket, revealing the crossover blouse she wore underneath. With his right hand he undid his jacket, fumbling a little then smiling as Gladdie took over the task. She slipped it off his shoulder and placed it on the back of an armchair.

"It's strange but I feel like my first time again," he said, then he frowned. "That maybe didn't come out right. I just want you to like it. After what you went through in England, I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not," insisted Gladdie, then she sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her, waiting for Bucky to sit. "Steven Grant stopped them before they were able to do anything other than get me down on the ground and begin to undress me. Never have I compared how you've treated me with how they did. You're my husband and I want to be with you. When I look at you, I want you, Bucky. I want you to touch me in every way possible."

"I'm still damaged goods," he replied, in a low voice.

Grasping his face in her hand Gladdie looked deeply into his eyes, shaking her head. "No, don't think that way. Why don't you take my stockings off and I'll take your shirt off. Then we'll kiss a bit and go from there."

His smile showed how much he liked the idea of taking her stockings off, so Gladdie kicked her shoes to the side while Bucky kneeled before her. Lifting her skirt and slip up so that the garter was visible Gladdie smiled as he tried to undo it. While she anchored the clip, he pushed it out of its wire clasp and undid the top of the first one, then she changed position to expose the side of her leg, allowing Bucky to undo that one. Looking up at her he slid his hand onto the soft skin of her thigh, caressing it then gently pulled the stocking down before removing it from her foot. Leaning forward, Gladdie kissed him, as he touched her thigh again, daring to go as high as her crotch which brought out a soft whimper from her when he brushed against it.

"Is that alright?" he asked, once again feeling like the first time he ever made love to a girl.

"It's more than alright," she said softly, caressing his face. "You have a gentle touch. Did you like how I felt?"

He nodded and put his right hand on her neck, pulling her lips to his again, before running his hand down the front of her blouse, feeling the fullness of her breast in it. Gladdie was responsive to his touch, and they stroked each other some more before he returned to her legs, to remove the other stocking. Like before he touched her thigh, then pressed his palm against her mound, massaging it with the heel of his hand. The second stocking was removed, and he waited as Gladdie began to undo his tie, removing it over his head, then unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers before taking it off and tossing it onto the chair, leaving him in an undershirt. For a moment, Bucky was a little fearful when her eyes landed on the stump of his left arm. Even though they had slept together in the same bed for the past week, he was still nervous about finally making love with her.

"It's alright," she said softly. "We'll be fine."

They both stood up and she placed her palm against his face before moving her hand to his shoulder. As her touch grew into a caress, he visibly relaxed, even closing his eyes when she began kissing his shoulder, then moving her lips down the remnants of his arm. When she stopped to face him, she ran her palms over his chest and down his abdomen, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his trousers. Once they fell to the floor, he kicked them out of the way.

"I'm going to take my slip and skirt off," she said. "You can help whenever you want."

He sat on the bed as she stood before his spread knees, unbuttoning the skirt at the waistband and undoing the zipper. Sliding it down her legs he breathed heavily when he saw the curves of her lower body before him, covered with her slip. Hooking her hands at the waist she pulled it over her hips, letting him finish the movement, gracefully stepping out of it. Her garter belt came off next.

"Give me your hand," she murmured, taking it and placing it on her hip, then stepping closer as he touched her over it.

Placing her hands on the hooks of her blouse, she opened them to reveal the view of her bra, making soft sounds as his hand reached up to it. She took her blouse off and posed before him, in all of her voluptuous beauty.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "Gladdie, I don't deserve someone who is perfect like you."

He pressed his lips around her navel, while cupping her bottom in his right hand. Her hands went to her hair, and unpinned her French roll, letting her locks fall loosely over her shoulders. Running her hands from his head down over his shoulders, she bent over and kissed him.

"You're perfect in my eyes," she answered as she looked at him from above. "I don't care about the arm, Bucky. You're the man I want."

Pulling him up to his feet, Gladdie faced him and willingly moulded her body against his as they kissed fiercely. With all the trust and love they had developed since Bucky came racing into Grand Central Station on Monday, they both gave themselves fully to each other. Lost in the lust of their first joining it was still an experience neither would ever forget. To Gladdie, who had only ever been with one man, her former fiancé, it was like seeing the sun rise for the first time, as she felt what it was like for someone to put her first. Bucky's attention to her physical needs and wants were a revelation of how it felt to be truly loved and cherished. For Bucky, all the other women he had been with before paled in comparison to the woman he now held in his arms. Arms, because he felt like he had both of them, so closely were their bodies pressed together, merging as if they were one. With Gladdie, he felt complete in ways he had never felt before, almost like a missing piece of his soul had been found.

Several hours later, when he awakened, seeing it was dark outside, he realized Gladdie wasn't in bed with him. Then he saw her, silhouetted in front of the window, almost as if she was posing for a picture, looking across the East River to the lights of Manhattan. The curves of her body seemed to be lit up by the glow coming from those lights. Her pale blonde hair was loose down her back. Rising from the bed, he approached her, sliding his right hand around the softness of her waist and pulling her back against his chest, resting his head next to hers.

"Beautiful," he whispered.

"It is," she replied, softly. "I've never seen the lights like this. It's so much nicer from Brooklyn."

"I wasn't talking about the city," he murmured, nuzzling his lips against the side of her head. "I was talking about you."

She turned then, seeing the soft look on his face as he gazed at her, both of them illuminated by the same glow of the lights from across the water. Gently, she traced his face with her fingertips.

"Promise me," she said.

"Anything."

"You'll always be mine."

As if any other woman would ever be enough for him. "I'll always be yours, forever, in whatever universe where we're together, it will be just you and me. I finally found you my darling and I'm never losing you. You're stuck with me throughout eternity."

With a kiss to seal his promise, Bucky led Gladdie back to the bed, then remembered something, promising to return. Turning on a lamp, he picked up the breakfast menu and checked off everything. Then he quickly opened the door, placed it on the doorknob and closed the door again, noticing it wasn't yet 11 pm. He was sure they would be hungry for food in the morning. Tonight, was a different type of hunger to satisfy and by the looks his wife was giving him, she needed more. He was only too happy to oblige.

Chapter Text

A pocket of turbulence woke Bucky up as he sat in the back of the courier aircraft reserved for transporting diplomatic documents to England from Washington.  The courier, a Captain, still slept, not stirring at the sudden movement of the aircraft.  They left Greenland after refuelling there several hours before.  Rising from his seat, Bucky made his way forward to the cockpit, receiving a backward glance from the pilot then the copilot.

"Everything okay?" he asked, looking out into the darkness.

"Nothing to worry about, Sergeant," said the copilot.  "Just some weather coming from the southwest.  We're through the worst of it.  In a few more hours we'll be over England, and you'll be reunited with your unit.  It's kind of late in the war to be returning to duty, isn't it?"

"Special forces," smiled Bucky.  "Classified."

He patted the shoulder of the pilot, glancing at his left hand, then smiled, walking back to where he had been sleeping.  Sitting back in his seat, he flexed the hand again and once more found himself remembering the day he got his arm and hand back.  A week after the wedding, he and Gladdie went to the SSR lab, finally receiving approval to receive the treatment.  After getting examined by the two doctors, he stripped down to his boxers, approached the capsule, sat on the edge, then looked up at the viewing gallery where Gladdie sat with Anya and some suits from Washington.  Her eyes were only on him as she blew him a kiss.  Then Dr. Erskine, Dr. Waslewski, Lt. Hay, and Howard Stark gathered around his open capsule.

"One last chance to change your mind," said Stark.

"No, I'm ready," replied Bucky, sincerely.  "No matter what happens, I'm ready to get back to work."  He looked at Dr. Erskine with confidence.  "Your serum saved me in the mountains.  I believe this will give me back what I lost there."

"Very well," said Erskine, looking at the others.  "Let's prepare the serum injectors and begin the procedure.  James, if you wish to stop at any time, you may do so."

Bucky nodded, then looked again at Gladdie sitting in the gallery, mouthing the words "I love you" to her.  Lt. Hay observed the technician loading the serum injectors, while Dr. Waslewski injected something in his right arm.

"Hopefully, this will lessen the pain of the procedure, but everyone is different.  You've already proven your pain tolerance levels are greater than most men.  This should be bearable to you."

He smiled and nodded at her, then Bucky laid flat on the platform, watching as they strapped him in just below his chest and the paddles came down over his pectoral muscles, on the bicep of his right arm, and on the stump of his left arm.  He rested his head back on the support, watching as the last vial of serum was placed in its injector.

"Begin the serum infusion," ordered Dr. Erskine.

The serum being injected into Bucky's body immediately brought back the memory of the burning sensation from the one vial he received in the mountains, then the thought of burning alive overwhelmed him as the serum began to circulate in his body.  Struggling to breathe normally he tried to stave off the panic that threatened him.  Was it supposed to be this bad?  As if Dr. Erskine knew what Bucky was feeling he leaned close to his ear.

"Right now, it feels like you are burning alive but you're not, James," he said calmly.  "This is the serum flooding every cell in your body.  You can yell or scream if you wish.  Steven did and we almost stopped the procedure, but he insisted he could withstand it.  So can you, if you believe.  Do you wish to continue?"

He breathed deeply several times to get his reaction under control then swallowed.  "I'm good, Doc.  Carry on."

"Very well," replied Erskine, then he looked to Stark.  "Begin the radiation."  He looked at Bucky confidently, placing the protective goggles on his head and making sure they were firm against his eyes.  "The radiation will slowly be turned to maximum, and this is where we believe your body will rebuild itself."

Stark activated his controls as the capsule began to close up while rising to an upright position.  The power came on and Bucky tried to breathe evenly inside the claustrophobic confines of the capsule, listening to the various components being attached to the outside.

"If Steve could do this, so can I," he told himself.

A glow and a loud hum came from the inside of the capsule, and he closed his eyes to the brightness, even though the protective goggles dimmed it considerably, feeling the burning pain increase dramatically throughout his entire body.  A flash of intense agony from his stump began radiating everywhere, flaring into something almost unbearable, causing him to yell in response.  He wanted to watch but the brightness of the radiation was so much that he didn't dare open his eyes.  The intense pain began spreading below from where his stump had been, extending downward, towards his elbow, then forearm and finally hand and fingers.  He had no idea how long it took as his sense of time seemed to be distorted by the extent of the torment.  Reflexively he wiggled his fingers, then almost laughed when he could feel the fingers of his left hand touching the surface of the platform he was on.  Even though the pain was greater than anything he had ever felt, the sensation of touch was like a balm to the agony.  As the glow slowly faded so did the hum of the exposure, and the capsule began to open, releasing the pressure inside.  The pain eased quickly as he felt the cool air of the lab hit his sweaty skin.  Dr. Erskine and Dr. Waslewski were with him immediately, each of them taking an arm, after removing his goggles.  He laughed for real at that, looking at his left arm as he grasped for Dr. Erskine.

"I can feel it," he gasped, as he stepped unsteadily out of the capsule, the strap broken by the act, his now powerful body breaking it easily.  "It worked."

"Ja, it worked, James," smiled Dr. Erskine.  He looked back at the viewing gallery.  "Allow Mrs. Barnes to enter."

Suddenly, Gladdie was there, and Bucky noticed she was shorter ... no, he was taller.  As he watched her hands run over his arms, he took a better look at them, realizing they were more muscular than they had been just minutes before.  Then she looked up at him, and his left hand touched her face before he enclosed her in an embrace using both his arms.  It was a bit of a blur after that, although he was escorted to an examination room where the two doctors gave him a thorough exam, while Gladdie stayed by his side.  Finally, Lt. Hay measured him, entering the results in the file that she first started on him after his rescue from Azzano.  Height:  6 feet, 4 inches.  Weight:  230 lbs.  He was bigger and more muscular than he had been before.  Although slightly leaner than Steve's proportions he was still physically an impressive sight.  Fortunately, the doctors had ordered in several sizes of new clothing for him to wear, as his old clothing was too short and too small to accommodate his longer legs and increased upper body development.

He spent a day at Fort Hamilton being put through the obstacle course there and the rifle range.  All of his skills were still there, and the Erskine serum had improved his eyesight, hearing and sense of smell even more than the HYDRA one had.  After a few more days of testing to confirm his range of abilities and strengths he received his orders to report for duty with the Howling Commandos in England.  He spent as much time with Gladdie and his family as he could before taking his leave of them.  It was bittersweet leaving his wife behind after only a short time of being married but he had the picture of their wedding day with him in his wallet and they promised to write to each other often.

England, Home base of Howling Commandos and Phantom Patrol

General Phillips waited at the airfield, the jeep driver leaning against the vehicle while having a cigarette with his permission.  The pilot of the courier aircraft that Sergeant Barnes was on had radioed for landing instructions.  With the two units already in Europe, Phillips wanted to brief the sergeant himself on what was waiting for him.  Unfortunately, the young soldier wouldn't have much time to relax before hopping on another aircraft.  As it landed, the General nodded at the driver, who jumped behind the wheel and sped towards the space assigned to the airplane.  When it came to a stop the courier came out, saluting the General then moving past him, towards a waiting staff car.  His documents pouch was meant for General Eisenhower, and he would be transported to his headquarters.  Barnes stepped out next, carrying his duffel bag in his now intact left hand.  Phillips stared at it, still finding it hard to believe that the procedure actually succeeded in restoring the arm and hand.  Bucky noticed the General and saluted who returned it then gestured to him to sit in back of the jeep.

"Sergeant, you look good.  How does it feel?"

"Like I never lost it, sir," said Barnes, dropping his bag off in the back seat of the jeep and sitting next to it.  "Wasn't expecting you to pick me up."

"Both squads have been in Europe these past ten days.  You won't have much time to relax.  I need you in your gear and ready to go in an hour.  I also have some disquieting news for you."

"Sir?"

Phillips breathed out audibly.  "We lost Sergeant Howlett.  Took a bullet to his head."  He glanced at the driver.  "I can't tell you more since Private Sherman doesn't have clearance, but you can find out the rest when you get to your destination."

"I'm sorry to hear that.  He was a good man.  Who is sergeant of that unit, or are you placing me with them?"

"Bradley has been promoted to sergeant.  You'll still be with the Commandos as Staff Sergeant, with both Bradley and Dugan reporting to you.  Both squads will be working together more often than not."  He looked back at Barnes.  "I understand you married Corporal Norton."

"You met her, sir?"

"I did, under less-than-ideal circumstances," he replied.  "How is she?"

Bucky understood at that moment that General Phillips knew everything about Gladdie.  "She's good, sir.  She's stronger than she looks."

Phillips smiled at him.  "I didn't doubt that for a moment.  Congratulations.  I hope that when you return, you'll have a long and happy life together."

"Thank you, sir.  I plan on it.  Thank you for giving her clearance to be in the lab."

General Phillips nodded, then faced forward, waiting until they were back at the barracks to fill in Barnes on the classified details of his mission.  It felt strange to Bucky to find that he now had his own private quarters, next to the quarters for Rogers and Grant but as Staff Sergeant he would be more involved in planning, leaving the running of the squads to Dugan and Bradley.  Since he had to fly out immediately, he changed out of his uniform then put his new sergeant's gear on, noticing the updated insignia had already been attached to his sleeves.  Inside his upright locker was a new blue jacket and dark combat pants in the event he was called upon to be a sniper, so he packed those in his knapsack.  As he went to the quartermaster for his weapons he wondered if they still had his rifle, since he hadn't taken it on the mission to intercept the train.

"Holy shit, the rumours are true," said a voice and he noticed the Quartermaster Sergeant coming out from behind the door of his office, sending the private on duty for a coffee, then locking the door to keep others out.  "I heard you were coming back."

"Loose lips, Smith," said Bucky.  "I need weapons.  Is my rifle here?"

"Yes, it is," said Smith, going in back and coming back with Bucky's Johnson rifle, several boxes of ammunition, two handguns and two combat knives.  "It's been stripped and cleaned but I imagine you want to check it yourself."

Bucky looked up to see Smith staring at his arm and smirked.  "It's the real thing but we're keeping it on the down low.  Perhaps if you have a couple pairs of leather gloves, I could be given those."

"You got it Bucky," he replied, heading towards a large cabinet and pulling open a drawer, bringing several pairs out.

Bucky tried on the first pair, finding them too loose, then tried another and was satisfied, taking two pairs of them.  He placed the handguns in his holster and the knives in a slot in front of them then stuffed the ammunition in his knapsack and shouldered the rifle.  Smith watched him intently.

"You've grown," he said, finally.  "You're taller and heavier."

"Keep it under your hat," said Bucky, then he gave him his old grin.  "I'm a new man in many ways but I'm still Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn.  That's all that matters."  He went to the door, undoing the latch.  "See you around."

Reporting to the General he was shown into a briefing room, where the door was locked and only Phillips and a captain were present.  Placing his gear on a table he stood in front of a map of Germany and Austria, updated on where the allies were.  The Russians were closing in on Berlin while the Americans were still pushed up against the Elbe River in the east, and Stuttgart and Nuremberg in the south.

"In a week Berlin should be almost encircled by the Russians, while the Americans and British will be at the Danube," said Phillips.  "Both the Commandos and the Patrol are in Frankfurt, originally supporting the Seventh Army under General Patch.  He is continuing to press south along the flank of Patton's tanks.  When you join them, you'll all be flying into Austria and parachuting near a target.  HYDRA Research Facility Number 4 is there, and the combined squads will be taking control of it, while arresting the commanding officer, General Werner Reinhardt.  It is a warehouse of artifacts that Schmidt and his troops acquired in his search for the Tesseract.  Under no circumstances is General Reinhardt to be allowed to escape, as there is fear he may make contact with Russian HYDRA agents.  He is as dangerous as Johann Schmidt and has vowed to continue his work.  Extreme sanctions have been authorized for him and anyone else in HYDRA's leadership.  It is entirely possible that you may find more PoWs subjected to experimentation there."

"Any sign of Zola?" asked Bucky.

"No, he's disappeared into the woodwork, but we plan to interrogate the prisoners we acquire from the facility as well as any of our men who were experimented on, as it's almost certain he was there at some point."  The captain offered Bucky a very small container.  Opening it he saw a black pill.  "Every super soldier under my command has been given these.  Fight to the best of your abilities but if you are taken prisoner and the situation is hopeless you have permission to deny them their prize.  I hope it doesn't come to that, Sergeant.  Your new abilities should be used to maximum effect, but we don't want to lose you to HYDRA again.  The container fits into a small pocket in your lapel.  It should escape notice if they search you."

Bucky looked meaningfully at the black pill, then closed the container.  If he was captured again, he would go down fighting and take as many of them with him as he could.  After eating a meal with the General, Bucky was driven to the airfield where a unit of paratroopers were being loaded for deployment at the front lines.  After they jumped, the aircraft was landing in Frankfurt, picking up injured soldiers for return to England.  By nightfall, he was in a jeep being driven by Corporal Rose, who looked carefully at Bucky, then shook his head in amazement.

"It's incredible, Sarge," he commented.  "I was there when they found you in the ravine and saw you at death's door while we tried to get to the airfield.  Yet, here you are, bigger, taller, and whole again."

"What happened with Howlett?" asked Bucky, wanting answers to that before anything else.

"Special Agent Grant wants to brief you on that himself," answered Rose.  "He took it hard.  It was always a possibility, I guess, but that it happened was still difficult for him to accept."  He noticed Bucky seemed grim.  "Don't blame him.  Howlett was his own man and proposed the operation, knowing it would put him into danger.  He never shied away from the fight."

Bucky let a breath of air escape between his lips and nodded his head at the Corporal.  None of their men would have taken part in an operation without knowing the risks.  They were all in on the planning.  It was the way Grant did it and Steve followed suit.

"So, you're as strong as Cap, now, in every way?"

"Yup, same abilities," replied Bucky.  "Find any more super soldiers?"

"Just Nazi ones, but ...."  He lowered his voice even though they were in the jeep, travelling down the road towards their billet.  "Every indication is that we may find several PoWs on this next mission.  If they're up to it, they may be added to the unit.  But you didn't hear that from me."

Bucky grinned.  "No, I would never give you up.  Just get me to the base in one piece and your secret will be safe with me."

They pulled into the base, checking in at the guard house before driving towards a small collection of tents.  Everyone was out, waiting on their arrival.  When the jeep pulled up Bucky stepped out, receiving various greetings.  Then he stood in front of Steve, looking down at him slightly, with a grin.

"There, that's better," he stated.  "You don't know how much it bugged me that you were bigger than me."

"Sure, Bucky, whatever helps you sleep through the night," laughed his friend.  "How's Gladdie?"

"She's great.  Marrying her is the best thing I ever did."  He turned to Steven Grant.  "I guess I have you to thank for finding Gladdie."

"I don't know what you're talking about," smiled the older man.  "I just helped a woman in trouble one night and made sure she got back home safely.  How are Eva and Anya?"

"Eva's good.  Anya is better now that they've confirmed she's not in the family way.  She asked me to deliver a letter to Raines.  They've been writing."  He looked at the others, who were still joking around.  His face faltered a little.  "Howlett?"

Grant shook his head.  "Come see me once you're squared away, and I'll fill you in."

Hefting his duffel bag, Bucky was shown to the tent he was sharing with Bradley and Dugan.  After changing and delivering Anya's letter to Raines, along with a tin of his mother's cookies for the men, he reported to the tent that Rogers and Grant shared, bearing another tin of cake.  The latter pulled a bottle of scotch out of his footlocker and poured a glass for each of them, helping himself to a piece of the cake.

"We got word of a sighting of Zola in the Balkans," he began, sipping his drink first, then biting into the chocolate piece of home baking.  His eyes rolled at the taste, then his face became serious.  "While we were preparing a joint operation with both teams, we got word of several Nazi super soldiers in cryostorage in Russian held territory.  That came from the partisans, so we had no reason to believe it was a trap."

"But it was?"  Bucky looked from one to the other.  "And Zola?"

"False sighting," said Rogers.  "Meant to split us up.  We were sent on a wild goose chase while Grant's team were attacked.  Before we could get there to back them up, Russian HYDRA made their play."

Bucky looked at both men, alarmed.  "They know?"

"We think Zola found out about Howlett, Bradley, Murphy and Costello," said Grant.  "And me.  Probably when he was still being offered a place in the American weapons development program.  The opportunity to take five of us prisoner was too good to pass up, I guess.  Somehow, they knew Howlett was a mutant with resurrection abilities.  They targeted him specifically, taking head shots at him to test out his power to revive.  We tried several times to retreat but were always unsuccessful.  He offered to keep them busy along with Bradley, while Rumlow, Raines and Rose built some improvised explosive devices, using the rubble around us.  IEDs are what they were called in the future.  Used by several terrorist factions in the Middle East they were an effective way to hit the enemy randomly and throw them off their game.  Except there was nothing random about our placement.  We booby trapped the perimeter of where we were, then told them to come and get us.  They took the bait and destroyed themselves coming after us.  But Howlett took a head shot from one of their sharp shooters on his way back from a lookout.  Isaiah carried him back the rest of the way."

"How did you get away with Howlett's body?"

The two commanders looked at each other then Grant spoke.  "I didn't.  He woke up, with no memory of himself or us.  I'd already put his file inside his uniform so he would have it.  He was lucid but didn't recognize us, except as American soldiers, then insisted that he had to leave.  I wasn't going to hold him back, not with those claws extended.  Wouldn't even let us treat his injuries, so, I let him go.  He took out the remaining HYDRA soldiers who were regrouping, brought us a truck, then disappeared into the night.  Wished us good luck before he left.  There have been reports of a lone soldier making his way east towards China.  He's faster than we ever thought as the latest intel has him near northern India.  We think he's headed towards the Japanese front."

"Damn, that's a tough way to lose him.  Why the Japanese?"

Both commanders shrugged.  Whatever had happened to Howlett when he came back to life had seemed to reset his brain into survival mode.  With such a high survival instinct, the fact that he helped them out wasn't lost on them, as Grant indicated the man's file was full of him being antagonistic towards anyone he encountered after previous resurrections.  Hopefully, this time, Howlett took the opportunity to read his file and avoid any future contact with a man named William Stryker, a man cut from the same type of cloth as Arnim Zola.  It would be years before any of them saw James Howlett again.

Chapter Text

Now that Bucky was back with the Howling Commandos a new energy seemed to infuse the unit, and the Phantom Patrol as well.  Seeing him fully restored from the gruesome injuries he suffered in January, and back to what he was like before Azzano, lifted all of their spirits.  Sharing the pictures of his wife, and the wedding showed all of them the changed man who now had someone to live for and come home to.  All of them were determined to help keep him safe in the battles still to come.  Grant gave them the rundown of the last days of the war from his timeline and they used that knowledge to successfully parachute near where HYDRA Research Facility Number 4 was in Austria.

It was a brutal battle, as the HYDRA forces there did all they could to prevent their force from entering the facility.  For almost a day they tried multiple times to breach the walls, successfully completing it when Steve, Bucky, Steven, and Isaiah teamed together to scale a difficult ascent on an area of the facility that extended over a cliff.  Once they got over the top, they were able to fight off enough of the complement inside to open the doors to the facility for the others.  Within an hour they took control of most of the research facility and called for help in taking the surviving HYDRA staff into custody.

With Peggy in charge of directing their force to the location of the artifacts they made their way to the storage area, finding another complement of HYDRA soldiers removing the artifacts and loading them into trucks.  Another gun battle ended in victory for the Patrol and Commandos, and they approached the crates of materials.  Steven Grant had already apprised them of the dangerousness of one of the artifacts, called the Obelisk, in that it could turn people into stone, yet it was not in the storage facility with the others.  Neither was General Werner Reinhardt.  After interrogating several of the prisoners it was learned he left the day before with the crate containing the obelisk, and another containing a body of unknown origin, leaving behind the others for the Allied forces to find.

"That's a little convenient," stated Peggy, looking at the others.  "Did someone tip him off?"

"If they did it's someone we haven't identified as HYDRA," replied Grant.  "We've kept this operation under wraps.  Only our squads, General Phillips and Captain Stuart knew the details."

"The Quarter Master heard rumours of my transformation," noted Bucky.  "Maybe someone was hanging around getting more information."

Focusing on recovering everything in the fortress first and loading them into transport trucks, a task that took two days, they then helped Dernier and Rumlow set the charges to destroy the facility.  After making sure that everyone was out and, in their transports, the two men set the timers and the units pulled away to a safe distance, watching with satisfaction as the facility was razed to the ground, changing the face of the mountain for good.  Their convoy wound its way through the mountains of Austria, headed for a base in Wiesbaden, Germany, staffed by British and American forces, including several officers, both men and women, who had undertaken the task of finding looted artworks and artifacts, tracing their original owners and returning the items to them.  Aside from the otherworldly objects that Grant had files for, the majority of the artifacts were to be delivered there.  From there, they returned to their base in Frankfurt where Grant radioed Phillips that Reinhardt was tipped off and escaped before they got there.  Raines and Rumlow asked if they could investigate the base personnel, hoping to find something that would indicate if one of them was a HYDRA sympathizer.  While those two worked on that the rest of the regular members kept up with their training, while Grant, Rogers (both Steve and Peggy), Barnes, Dugan and Bradley, began sorting through other intelligence reports of suspected HYDRA bases, comparing them to what Grant had.

The task of both seemed to take forever, and while they were hard at it the word of Hitler's death and Germany's surrender reached the base.  Considering this part of Germany had been occupied by the Allies for a short time there weren't the jubilant celebrations in the nearby communities that other European countries were experiencing.  Still, the base commander brought in beer and food, along with a USO show to entertain the troops.  Knowing that a break from their work could be a valuable morale booster, Grant put a temporary halt to their research allowing everyone to cut loose for the day of the celebrations.  Steve and Peggy stayed in their quarters most of the day until coming out to small nudges and smiles from the others.  Bucky read a letter from Gladdie and wrote one back to her before helping himself to some beer and bratwurst, stretching out on the grass in the sunshine on the rare, pleasant spring day.   He and several others took their shirts off, trying to get some colour into their pale skin.  When a bunch of base soldiers produced a football, several of the Commandos and the Patrol joined in, although those with super soldier strength had to tamp down their abilities to keep it fair.  Dernier and Falsworth scoffed at calling what they were doing football, comparing it to the game they both grew up with, which the Americans called soccer.  Grant, who sat away from most of them read a letter from Eva and wrote one back to her, then spent the rest of the time sketching the tableau in front of him.  He did some character studies as well, drawing the individuals of both squads, as he recalled how few photographs there were of them from his timeline.  Most of those in the Smithsonian showed them just after a mission, the lines of fatigue evident on their faces; occasionally displaying the thousand-yard stare as they tried to deal with the horrors they experienced.  On this day, at least, there were smiles, and expressions of joy and camaraderie that he wanted to share.

Although many of the regular complement at the base were excited at the prospect of going home, Grant knew it would be a while before that happened as the country needed a lot of help to restore administrative and policing services.  Even then, the Americans would have a presence by setting up bases in the country, in a show of strength to the Russians that the country wasn't going to be abandoned for them to take over.  As much as Russia had been an ally during the war, they had also pursued their own agenda throughout it and that wouldn't stop, especially now with the remnants of HYDRA enticing the Russian leadership with the possibility of dominance in Europe and eventually the world.  Certainly, the Russian soldiers who found Bucky in his timeline knew he was an American and should have notified the liaison officers between the different allies of his survival.  Instead, they handed him over to HYDRA, after taking out some of their own sick inclinations on the severely injured man.  That Bucky never had a chance to escape, never had a chance to fight back on a level field of battle.  Never even considering that he had survived, Grant had gone on to the next mission against Red Skull, mourning his friend but ultimately not even coming close to destroying HYDRA.  He had been so naïve, so idealistic, and so ineffective in the long run.  Pressing too hard on the pencil broke the tip and Steven Grant looked at the small piece of lead as it lay on the paper, directly over the close-up sketch of Bucky's face he was working on.

He sighed and swept the tip off into the grass, then closed the book and looked at the men under his command.  This Bucky had been saved but there had still been a cost.  What he experienced after his fall would always stay with him, even though he was fully healed now.  Then there were Steve and Peggy, together now, as it should have been in his time, but what about after?  She helped found SHIELD, never knowing that it was infiltrated by HYDRA from the start.  At least, now, by making sure Sousa survived with an intact leg, and assigned to routing HYDRA supporters in the US, they were ahead on that.  But would it be enough to keep SHIELD from being corrupted from within?

"Are you alright?"

He looked to his side at the source of the voice, seeing Isaiah Bradley looming beside him with a couple of beers.  The big man offered him one, then sat on the grass and took a swig of his.

"Just thinking," replied Grant, gesturing to the sounds and sights in front of them.  "I never saw this part in my original time as I was already frozen in the ice.  VE Day was just another day in the history books that I studied once I was found."

"But you're here now," said the soft-spoken man, looking at the others.  "You changed a lot coming back.  You know that, right?"

"It isn't enough and won't be until we destroy everything connected to HYDRA.  I don't know if we're going to do it."

"Why not?"  The big man turned his face towards the man who got him out of prison.  "You saved me, Grant.  I was sure I was going to die in that prison; forgotten, left to rot by a country that didn't consider me worthy of respect.  Yet, you treated me like a man from the beginning.  You saved Bucky, made sure that HYDRA didn't get him.  Saved Cap from your fate.  You took me at my word about the German PoW camp and led the mission to save those soldiers and Dr. Waslewski.  We destroyed a concentration camp that was experimenting on humans, on children and babies.  You don't think all those things add up?  We all believe in you and in what you're doing.  Every man in the Howling Commandos and the Phantom Patrol will follow you to the ends of the Earth to do this job, because it has to be done.  Even the bad parts of it."

"I don't want people to follow me blindly, Isaiah," sighed Grant, taking a drink of his beer.  "I'm just a simple man at heart.  Even in the future I just wanted to do what was right, and I still didn't satisfy everyone.  They built Captain America up to be this hero of righteousness and I couldn't live up to it because the world isn't black and white."

"But you're not Captain America anymore, are you?  You're your own man now.  I've seen how you wrestle with your conscience.  You don't want to kill, but you do want to fight against the Nazis and then HYDRA.  Well, they don't care if you don't want to kill because they do.  As much as we hate the killing part, and we do, every one of us, we also know that with these people there is no other way.  If we don't kill them, they fester and grow in the dark, infecting others with their beliefs and in no time at all, we're back to where we started.  That's where you found yourself in your future, am I right?  HYDRA never died in your timeline because they kept alive in the shadows.  Time to open the windows to the sun and banish the shadows forever.  I'm doing what is right and if that means that I have to kill some men before they kill others or me, I can live with that.  You're a good man, Special Agent Steven Grant, doing a difficult but necessary job with people who believe in you."

The sergeant turned to look at the others, laughing at a spectacular catch by Gabe Jones who was playing football.  His face was alive with joy and Grant realized that this man who had suffered so much, was embracing the sun and the light.  Bradley wasn't dwelling in the darkness reliving the torment he underwent before that day when Grant and Corporal Rose took him out of that military prison.  He noticed that Rumlow was sitting with Dernier, bugging him to teach him more French.  The man looked so much like Brock and yet there was none of the suspicion and anger he felt about that villain in his universe directed at Ben Rumlow.  He wasn't Brock and by getting Ben out of prison, and giving him a purpose with the Patrol, he was helping him to change what he became in Grant's original timeline; a mobster with a nasty streak, who beat his wife and kids, starting a legacy of abuse that created the Brock Rumlow of his time.  Then there was Bucky, laying on his back, looking at a picture of Gladdie in his hand, kissing it every so often.  He held a small lock of pale blonde hair tied with a blue ribbon, brushing it across his face, picturing the woman who it belonged to.  The man who could never commit to a single woman in his time was now married, a devoted husband, and he was alive and well.

Steven had an epiphany then.  Life wasn't a straight journey; there were hills and valleys, and the occasional mountain to climb before you came back to a straight patch.  No matter what, Steven wouldn't let the naïveté of his youth, or the cynicism of his later years affect his judgement.  The job was to destroy HYDRA and if that meant that they had to come down harshly on some people then they would do so, and deal with the aftermath later.  This was a fight to the death and neither side would give any quarter to the other.

The following day everyone was back at their tasks, with a renewed sense of purpose that was effective as before noon Raines came to them with the file of a soldier who had been rescued from the PoW camp.

"Ben and I were going through the personnel files of the HYDRA research facility that we just destroyed," he said.   "This guy's face seemed familiar, so I went through the pictures that were taken of the rescued PoWs.  It's the same guy.  I remember seeing him there, grateful for the rescue.  I sent a telegram to Lt. Sousa about the SSR staff that went missing before the war and gave him this guy's name.  Just received an answer.  He's American, was an SSR asset before the war, then disappeared."

Handing it to the others he waited while they quickly read the file of Wilfred Malick.

"It says he was suspected of bringing the missing ingredient of the super soldier serum to HYDRA," said Peggy.  "That was before Schmidt took it and transformed into Red Skull.  It should have been a death sentence for him, but Schmidt was still pleased with the result and this Malick fellow was paid very well for his actions."  She looked up at Raines.  "You think he was responsible for leaking out details of our attack to Reinhardt?"

"He's the only one we've found so far, whose loyalties seem split," said Raines.  "Obviously, he did something to anger Reinhardt if he was in the PoW camp but part of me thinks he might have been a plant, to get intelligence from the other prisoners.  A couple were from this base and may have heard scuttlebutt of some of our intended missions.  If that's the case, he might be the source of some leaks."

"Where is he now?" asked Rogers.

"That's the million-dollar question," grimaced Raines.  "He identified himself when he was rescued but he doesn't seem to have made it to any transports or Allied bases.  He's gone."

"Send this to the General," said Rogers, handing the file back.  "Mark Malick as Compromised and not to be trusted.  He's to be arrested on sight."

The file was transferred to Phillips and the order posted for Wilfred Malick to be arrested.  Another mission target was identified, this time in a part of eastern Poland that had been ceded to Russia in 1939 after they signed a peace treaty with Germany, then returned to the control of a provisional government after Germany's surrender.  The two squads regrouped and resupplied, arranging for their transport to the area, several days later.  Wanting to keep their presence a secret from the Russians, they arranged to meet up with a Ukrainian Insurgent Army group, using contacts that Philip Raines still had as several Poles were part of it.  Flying the aircraft to a grassy field in a valley with a treacherous approach, they landed safely then Raines went out into the night with Bradley.  They returned 20 minutes later with several UIA soldiers who had stolen vehicles.  They also had camouflage netting for the aircraft and encouraged the pilots to further hide the aircraft using bushes they cut from the surrounding countryside.

"The Russians are everywhere," said their leader.  "Even though these areas were ceded back to Poland after VE Day the provisional Communist government is preparing to hand them over to Russia within the next few weeks.  We won't give up our fight as both Ukrainian and Polish people make up the majority of the population, but it will be tough.  If you can remove the HYDRA facility that will be one less ally for the Russians."

"Can you provide us any intelligence on the facility?" asked Grant.

"It's a terrible place," said the leader, a stocky man named Bohdan.  "It's almost certain they are performing experiments on humans, PoWs.  A couple of our men work as porters and say the injuries suffered by them are gruesome and deliberately inflicted as if they want to see how the human body reacts to being deliberately cut open."

"Any survivors?"

"Several, according to the porters but they are suffering from lack of food, sleep and some sort of torture device that shocks them."

The members of the Commandos and Patrol looked at each other knowingly.

"Who's in command there?" asked Rogers.

"A new general, Reinhardt but there was already a Swiss doctor, there, a little man."  Bohdan spat into the ground.  "He claims to be performing great science, but his methods are barbaric."

Bucky kneeled on the ground, opening his sniper rifle case, assembling it then slinging it over his shoulder.  He stood at the ready, his decision already made as to his intended target.  After requesting any available food and medical supplies for the PoWs they boarded the vehicles and were driven to a rendezvous point with Bohdan's UIA unit.  They would stay on the perimeter, watching for any approaching Russians and engaging them, while the Patrol and the Commandos infiltrated the compound.  With a couple of hours until sunrise they decided to attack immediately to surprise the guard complement at the compound.  Reinhardt and Zola were to be taken into custody but if that wasn't possible, they would be taken out.  Peggy and several others would go after the files, pulling what they could while Rumlow and Dernier prepared the charges to destroy the facility.  The rest would be freeing the PoWs and getting them out to the trucks.  In the event there were more of them than they could transport the flight crews would split up, and steal another aircraft, as they were beside an airfield.  As soon as their aircraft was full, they were free to take off for Allied territory.

"No matter what, we destroy the device," said Bucky, remembering his own time with it.  "Even if we have to tear it apart with our bare hands."

Spreading themselves around the perimeter the complement of super soldiers jumped the fences, taking out the guards and tearing open holes in the barb wire for the others to come through.  They snaked their way through vehicles and stacks of crates that had yet to be taken inside the building.  At the assigned time they stormed the doors and entered with guns drawn, cutting down anyone who fired back, which seemed to be everyone as HYDRA soldiers had been ingrained with the command to fight to the death.  As the two squads worked their way in, they split up as certain areas were reached.

Peggy led her group into the filing room, looking specifically for HYDRA personnel files, locations of other HYDRA facilities not yet discovered, and any files naming PoWs undergoing experimentation.  After bringing everything out to their transport just outside the facility they returned to support the others in engaging the enemy.  So far, they hadn't had much trouble but then they came up against soldiers with HYDRA weapons and found themselves well matched.

Inside the core of the facility, Grant, Rogers and their crews found the prisoner complex, releasing 10 men, and learning there were at least a half a dozen more in the science lab area that hadn't been seen in a couple of weeks.  None of them knew that the war was over, as HYDRA never changed their routine or reacted to Germany's surrender.  Even though they were ordered to make it to the perimeter of the facility many of them took up arms instead and joined the two squads, wanting to inflict some payback on their captors.  Some made it to the rear of the soldiers fighting Peggy's crew, cutting down the enemy in the crossfire.

While Rogers and his crew went on to the science lab, Grant and his men went to the officer's living quarters, searching for Reinhardt and Zola.  They found the first man, as he was in the process of pulling on his boots.  He put his hands up to surrender, then grabbed a gun from his night table attempting to fire but was cut down by Bradley, who put a bullet in the middle of the man's chest.  As he lay on the floor, blinking, Reinhardt looked up at Grant with a confused look.

"You look like Captain America but you're old," he said, as Grant packed his wound with a pressure bandage.

"Not him but related," he replied.  "Where's the Obelisk and the body?"

Reinhardt smiled, as blood began to colour his teeth.  "Where you'll never find them," he murmured.  "Hail HYDRA."

A cough splattered blood on his face then he stopped breathing, and he looked up at the ceiling, his eyes open and lifeless.  They searched the man's quarters but there was nothing there, not even a file that indicated where the two objects were.

In the science lab area, the team came across a cabinet full of serum.  At first, they were going to destroy it outright, but Bucky said to find out how much the soldiers had received first.  A door led them to the prisoner cells, and they found the half dozen men, all of them laying on their cots; their arms and chest covered in cuts that were in various stages of healing.  Bucky and the others checked them over carefully, finding many of the wounds still open making him wonder if this batch of serum was even less effective than what had been given to him.  The state of the wounds, that none of them had been treated medically, were proof of the lack of the humanity shown to the men.

"Get them to the aircraft," ordered Bucky.  "Take some of the serum with you so it can be tested."

As he continued to search for Zola, he opened another door and immediately covered his mouth with his hand because of the stench of rotting flesh.  After calling for help, he entered and approached the few soldiers in there, obviously too weak to even raise their heads.  One of them had a terrible leg injury, while the other two seemed to have injuries on their bodies and arms; all of them the source of the smell.  Pulling dressings out of the pockets in his pants he began to dress the leg wounds of the one soldier, who opened his eyes then touched Bucky's arm.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

He peered at the young man, shocked to realize he recognized him.  "Fitzpatrick?"

"Yes, Private William Fitzpatrick.  You remember me?"

"Sure do, 101st Airborne, weren't you?  How did you end up here?"

Fitzpatrick began to cough as Grant and several others entered, immediately tending to the other two.

"Broke my leg on a mission and was waiting for a medic," said the young man from Queens.  He noticed Grant.  "Special Agent Grant, it's William Fitzpatrick, sir.  We met in England."

Grant, came closer, his face betraying his dismay at this young man who had reminded him so much of Peter Parker being found in this house of horrors.

"It's okay, son.  You're in good hands."  He looked at Bucky then at the leg.  The sergeant grimaced.  It didn't look good.  "Tell us how you came to be here."

"Our unit parachuted into the Bavarian Alps on a special mission in April, but I landed wrong and broke my leg.  Time was of the essence, so I was left with a couple of soldiers with minor wounds to wait for the medic and retrieval except we were caught by HYDRA.  They brought us here and have been here for weeks.  They didn't even try to treat my leg, but they kept giving me these injections.  The same with those two.  Our wounds just kept getting worse and they dumped us in here.  We're lucky to even get fed.  It seems they just wanted to forget about us."

Bucky murmured into Grant's ear that they had to set the young man's leg and splint it.  Grant nodded, then fished inside of his medical pouch for a syrette of morphine.

"Fitzpatrick, we have to set your leg and it's going to hurt like hell," he said.  "I'm going to give you morphine, then Sergeant Barnes and I will set your leg.  We'll splint it and get you out of here.  The good news is that the war is over.  You'll be going home.  Queen's is getting one of her own back."

"Yes sir, thank you, sir.  I'm ready."

With Jones at the kid's shoulders and Bucky on his leg, Grant broke the cap off the syrette and jammed it into Fitzpatrick's thigh.  They watched as his face relaxed then Bucky pulled firmly on the leg, feeling and hearing the bone set into place.  The young man yelped then set his mouth firmly and nodded, even as tears formed in his eyes and streamed out.

"Good job, kid," said Bucky, compassionately.  "You handled it better than I did when I broke mine.  You're very brave.  We'll get you fixed up in no time."

He and Jones fastened the splint while Grant checked with the others working on the other two soldiers.  He left briefly to search for stretchers, finding them and carrying them back.  The three wounded men were loaded on, and they began their way out of the facility to where the trucks were.  As the other parts of the squads began to report it became evident that Arnim Zola had somehow escaped.  Every one of the rescued men said he had been there the day before, but it was obvious he was gone now.  As they stood outside in the dawn, Grant and Rogers looked up at the imposing structure.

"Did you find the machine?" asked Grant, angrily.

"Yes, we tore it apart by hand then Rumlow set demolition charges everywhere around it.  Dernier said everything is ready to blow."

He looked at his younger counterpart.  "Bring it down.  If there's anyone still in there let them feel what it's like to be left to rot."

Rogers nodded at Rumlow and Dernier, who set the final charges outside that would trigger everything inside, as Grant and the others pulled away with the rest of the wounded and rescued.  They gave themselves only five minutes to clear the area, then clapped each other on the back and jumped in a jeep, gunning it for the perimeter of the spacious grounds that surrounded it.  Just as they reached it, the first charge went, followed by a cascade of explosions that ripped apart the structure, lighting up the morning sky.  With a radio alert from the UIA that a Russian unit was coming from the other direction to investigate they hastened towards the airfield where the pilots had already uncovered the airplane.  Fortunately, they had enough room for all of the rescued PoWs, although it was crowded, with the more severely wounded already secured into the cabin.  Costello and Murphy wasted no time getting the aircraft into the air and they headed for the coast, then across to England, where Major Lambert was already alerted to be ready to treat the wounded.

On their arrival at the base, Grant and Bucky made sure that William Fitzpatrick and the two men with him were seen first.  Based on what they learned during the flight, they suspected the three of them were injected with a severely weakened form of the serum, to determine the lower levels of its effectiveness.  They received absolutely no benefits from it at all and had, in fact, developed gangrene in their wounds.  Fitzpatrick, the most severely injured, lost his leg, but would survive.  The other two men with him, lost flesh, leaving some gruesome scars, but also would survive.  The other half dozen men also found in the lab, were determined to have received serum doses cut in half, still not enough to heal the most serious wounds but at least it didn't allow for gangrene to set in.  With penicillin treatment their wounds would heal.  An examination of their blood found minimal amounts of the serum and the decision was made to monitor the six as their general health improved to determine what, if any, long term effects from the serum would be.  The remaining ten men hadn't undergone any serum treatment but had been subjected to the mind control device.  Grant recommended they receive counselling, in a group setting together, so they could support each other through any nightmares that would be sure to happen.

As Grant made his report to General Phillips detailing the results and recommendations of this mission, the older soldier watched the Special Agent carefully.  By the tone of Grant's reports before the mission he wondered if the super soldier had reached a tipping point.  By the way he described the horrors of the three men left to rot until they died, and the decision to blow up the facility without making sure it was clear of enemy personnel first he realized that Grant had accepted the inevitability of fighting HYDRA with a harshness they hadn't used before.  As much as he had admired the Special Agent's desire to fight with honour and dignity, he also knew that eventually the man would realize that an enemy like HYDRA wouldn't return the favour.  It was a difficult thing to accept and there would likely be times that Grant would feel guilt and even shame for how he responded to the enemy now and in the future.  Certainly, Phillips had his own sleepless nights where he wondered if he had gone too far.  Reaching into his drawer, he pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses, pouring an amount for each of them.

"Sit down, Grant," he said, gruffly, pushing one glass towards him.  "It's a shame that Zola escaped but at least Reinhardt won't be around to push his evil onto the world.  I've requested that a trial be held trying Zola in absentia with crimes against humanity.  These latest victims of his should be the nail on his coffin, so to speak.  I'm asking that if he be found, he faces immediate summary judgement."

"Sir?"

"That means you will be authorized to execute him when you find him.  There is nothing in him to be rehabilitated, no knowledge of his that we want, and by what you told us of your future, he's a cancer that must be excised.  His work will speak for him and reveal him to be the monster he is.  I know that this last mission was hard on you.  If you wish to take a leave and go home to your wife, I understand completely."

"Thank you, but no," answered Grant, sipping his scotch.  "Eva and I discussed it before I left.  She is of the same opinion as you.  There is nothing to be gained by letting HYDRA believers continue to live.  The few like her that were coerced ... well, maybe with some propaganda we can encourage them to defect, and bring whatever intelligence they have with them.  But if they're still in the middle of it, injecting people with almost useless serum, or running the memory control mechanism on them, then I have a hard time believing they are still being forced into it.  This is a war for humanity and to win it, I'll have to forget that I'm human for a bit.  So be it."

With that declaration, Grant drained his glass, smiled grimly at the General and left.  The old soldier poured himself another drink, sipped it and sighed.  Sometimes, the price paid to do the job was too high.

Chapter Text

Throughout the rest of May, June, and into July the two squads continued to attack HYDRA bases.  Some had been openly built, openly displaying HYDRA's tentacled beast, in a blatant attempt to impress upon the local population that they were now under the control of the organization.  The attacks on those bases were satisfying as many of the locals had been coerced into almost slave labour.  Propaganda leaflets encouraging the locals into revealing the locations of HYDRA facilities had allowed the Commandos and the Patrol to find them as they used partisans to infiltrate the areas and pass on the information shared with them.  Once the locals realized that their deliverance was at hand they joined in the fight, with an anger that proved people were done with the authoritarian movement.

Still, for as many places as they destroyed, they received reports of more and it stretched the two squads to their limits.  After just returning to Frankfurt for a few days respite where Bucky had a chance to catch up with Gladdie's letters, learning that he was going to be a father, they received a radio report from a partisan group in the Balkans of a suspected HYDRA lab, with some of their own people kept as prisoners.  Wearily, the two squads regrouped and flew out, landing at a partisan controlled landing strip.  When they exited the aircraft, a large truck was waiting to transport them to a secure location where they could launch their mission from.  It was a rough drive, and they were bounced around a lot.  Although, most of the crew handled it, Peggy had issues and admitted to feeling nauseous.  Once they arrived at their destination, she seemed better and insisted she was fine.

A plan was drawn up with the partisans, and the decision was made to advance on the lab well before sunrise.  After eating some of the rations they brought with them, and checking their weapons, everyone took the opportunity to grab some sleep.  Steve staked out a corner for him and Peggy, letting her rest her head on his shoulder, while he covered them both up with a blanket.  With it being cool in the mountainous area she was thankful for the warmth radiating from his body.

Their sleep didn't last long as they were all shaken awake by the sound of a HYDRA tank cannon round hitting the building they were in.  As well trained as they were there was still an element of chaos for a few moments as people woke up, finding themselves caught under rubble.  The various super soldiers, except for Steve, were the first to make their way out, literally pushing their way out of the debris, then diving back in and pulling chunks of the building off their comrades.  Steve, who automatically protected Peggy with his body, couldn't move without a large piece of the building falling on her.

"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere," he told her, as she tried to focus on him, seeming dazed.

It was then, when he moved his hand from behind her and saw the blood on it that he began yelling for help.  Grant and Bucky followed his voice and while one of them held up the side of the building the other removed the large piece that trapped the couple and helped them out.  Carrying Peggy in his arms, Steve brought her to an open area and started pulling her clothes off of her back to check the wound.  By this time, she was fading, and he desperately spoke to her.

"Please, stay awake," he begged, as Corporal Rose came with a medical kit and took out several pressure bandages.

They found a jagged piece of metal in her back, above her left kidney and Rose carefully packed around it without pulling out the metal, realizing she could bleed out if he did.  As he worked on her they could hear the sound of the nearby HYDRA tank and realized they had to destroy it to get out of there.  Leaving Steve, Peggy, and Rose there, they all went out into the night, everyone of them intent on finding that tank.  Grant, who took the shield from Steve, saw it first, sitting on a nearby hilltop, waiting.

"Why aren't they firing?" He looked at Bucky, then Bradley.  "We're sitting ducks."

The answer came via a bull horn from the direction of the tank as a man with German accent spoke.

"Captain America, Special Agent Grant, Sergeant Barnes, Sergeant Bradley, Lieutenants Grady, O'Neill, Murphy and Costello, you have two minutes to surrender yourself or we will finish the job and destroy you and your fellow soldiers."

"They knew we were coming," said Bucky.  "What the hell?"

"Drop dead!" Grant yelled back then looked at the others.  "We'll split up, flank them.  There have to be soldiers with them, waiting to take us into custody.  Take them out, take their weapons and we'll destroy the cannon on the tank.  Dernier, can you make up a package to shove down the cannon barrel?"

"Oui, immédiatement.  Rumlow, avec moi."

The two men hurried back inside, digging through the rubble for anything to make up a surprise delivery for the cannon on the tank.  Quickly, they assembled it then placed a trigger activated detonator on it, setting it to explode 5 seconds after the trigger was released.  As they ran outside the man on the bullhorn called out again.

"Time is running out," said the man.  "You have 30 seconds."

"We have injured, and people buried in the debris," yelled Grant, as he listened to Dernier explain what to do to activate the bomb, then he sent the others to begin their flanking procedure.  "We need more time to get them out as they can't do it by themselves."

"Not my problem," said the voice, then Grant swore he could hear another familiar voice in the background.  "However, we will allow you one more minute."

He looked at Dernier and Rumlow.  "Peggy?"

"Still unconscious," said Rumlow.  "Cap and Rose have her bandaged up pretty well and were looking for something to carry her on."

"Go, help them get out of there in case the tank gunner has an itchy trigger finger.  We'll rendezvous with you at the edge of the village and figure out a way to get back to the airfield."

"What about the lab?"

"At this point, I'm not sure it exists as we were betrayed.  You don't see any of the partisans around, do you?"

Both men shook their head then returned back, to help Steve evacuate Peggy.  After 30 seconds Grant stood up and began walking towards the tank, tucking the bomb inside his jacket then raising his hands in surrender, still holding the shield.  He watched the surroundings carefully, noticing the silent takedown of HYDRA soldiers in the dark.  When he got to within 25 feet of the tank, he stopped.  A HYDRA officer approached him.

"Where are the others?" he asked.  "We know you have seven super soldiers with you on this mission."

"They're coming," replied Grant, "although you injured someone important to Captain America.  He won't give himself up as he's staying with her."

"Ah, yes, Agent Carter," said the man.  "Well, if it is his choice to die with her, we won't stop him.  We'll still have seven other super soldiers."

He turned to give the order to the tank to fire another round on the house.

"Wait!" said Grant.  "How did you know we were here?"

The man's smile was visible in the dark.  "We have eyes everywhere.  This was set up to bring you here.  The partisans were already our prisoners, and we just took over their identities.  If we can't beat them, we infiltrate them."

A HYDRA soldier speaking German appeared out of the darkness, his gun trained on Bucky, Bradley, and Murphy.  He was accompanied by another HYDRA soldier who had the others at gun point.  When the first soldier spoke, Grant had to keep from smiling as he recognized Raines' voice.  He noticed Falsworth was wearing the other uniform.  Dugan was nowhere to be seen.

"We have the others," said the man. "They aren't so special after all.  One look at my rifle and they were like little children.  How they managed to destroy our other compounds is a mystery."

"A mystery indeed," agreed the officer.  "Take them to the trucks."  He pulled his pistol out on Grant.  "Drop your weapons and come with me."

"Of course," said Grant, pulling the bomb out of his jacket and pressing the trigger to arm it.

He took off towards the tank as Raines hit the officer in the face with the butt of his gun, sending him to the ground.  Approaching the tank Grant saw the owner of the second voice he recognized from the bullhorn and dropped the package down the cannon barrel before grabbing the man and running as fast as he could, away from the massive machine, hoping that the others were also well enough away.  An immense explosion threw him down on the ground, landing heavily on the man he had grabbed.  Standing up, he looked at the remains of the tank, then called out to the others.

"Roll call!"

One by one the others confirmed they were okay, and they joined him, forming a circle around Arnim Zola, still lying on the ground, moaning.  When he started coming around, Grant leaned over and pulled the little man up, not gently either.  Zola, realizing he was surrounded as he adjusted his glasses, put his hands up.

"I surrender."

"No."  Grant was quite emphatic in his refusal.  "Not taking it.  You have been tried in absentia and found guilty of war crimes with your experimentation on unwilling human subjects.  Your punishment is death by firing squad.  We can do it here, or we can fly you to an allied base, but the ending will be the same."

"No, I don't believe you," pouted Zola.  "I demand that you treat me according to the Geneva Convention."

"We are," stated Bucky, his dislike of the man clearly evident.  "Like Special Agent Grant says you've already been tried and found guilty.  You had a lawyer and everything, but the tribunal ruled against you.  If it were me rendering judgment, I would shoot you right now where you stand."

"Special Agent Grant!"

The call from the distance made him turn around, as Rose ran up.  "We have to get Agent Rogers to a hospital.  She's in rough shape."  He saw Zola standing in the middle of the group and took his pistol out.  "You want me to take care of this vermin?"

Zola stepped back a little, surprised at the hostility coming from this strange soldier.  Who was Agent Rogers?

Looking between Corporal Rose and Zola, Grant made his decision within seconds.

"Murphy, Costello, you go back with Rose to the rendezvous and get Cap and Peggy to the aircraft.  Fly to the nearest friendly base.  Send Dernier and Rumlow back to me with everything they can scrounge to do what they do best.  We have a lab to blow and I'm sure there's lots more stuff there we can use to do it.  If this guy is here, it means the lab is close by as he likes the comforts of home.  All we have to do is follow the tracks of the tank back to where it came."

"What about him?" asked Bucky, his anger at the Swiss scientist still evident.

"We're not letting him out of our sight, again," answered Grant.  "Grady and O'Neill, there have to be aircraft near the lab.  You find something to take us all and figure out how to fly it.  Once you do, you come find us."

"How will we find you?" asked Grady, then he tilted his head as it hit him.  "Just follow the sounds of fighting.  Got it."

As the other two pilots went with Rose, Raines and Falsworth stripped out of the HYDRA uniforms they wore over their clothes, leaving them discarded in the field.  They kept the weapons, and along with the others went to where the remains of the tank were, before finding the tracks behind where it made its approach.  Following the tracks in the dark, it didn't take long until they came to a small base, complete with airstrip, barracks, and a large building that presumably held Zola's lab.  He hadn't been very cooperative on the hike to the lab, resulting in Dugan, carrying several HYDRA weapons that he "liberated," picking him up and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, with Zola's hands bound, and his mouth gagged so they didn't have to listen to his whiny voice demanding they treat him properly.  Just as they paused before the perimeter of the base, they heard an airplane fly overhead.

"That's ours," said Grady, peering up into the night.  "They're off."

A soft murmur rippled through them, and several men whispered a prayer then crossed themselves, hoping that Peggy would be alright.  While Grady and O'Neill turned towards the airstrip the others made their plans, with the first being the takedown of any guards.  Grant pulled the gag off of Zola's mouth.

"Are you experimenting on anyone?"

"Why should I tell you anything?"  The petulant tone of the scientist indicated he was going to continue being uncooperative.  "You're just going to shoot me anyway."

"You're right," said Grant, pulling his pistol out and aiming it at Zola, placing the muzzle between his eyes.  "I might as well get it over with, although this will do the job just a little too quickly for my taste."

A desperate laugh came out of the little man's mouth as his eyes flitted from one person to another.  "No ... I mean I do want to hold on to life just a little longer.  There are some prisoners, mostly partisans."  He swallowed as Grant cocked the pistol.  "Four Americans that were brought to me from another camp that you were targeting."  He started to stutter as Grant kept the gun in place.  "They were given the initial treatment of the serum and the memory conditioning."

"Full serum?" asked the special agent.  At Zola's surprised look Grant struggled to keep his voice level.  "We found the ones who were imprisoned in that camp at the eastern Polish border.  You left three of them to rot in a cell, without food or water, not even trying to treat their injuries.  The others received just enough of the half strength serum to keep them alive but not heal the wounds you inflicted on them.  And you question why you don't deserve to live?"

"I ... I only wished to understand the limitations of the serum," explained Zola.  "It is common scientific ...."

"Don't!"  Grant's face twisted in anger.  "Shut your damn mouth.  Someone take him and guard him or I swear I'll finish him right here."

Gabe leaned in, pulling Zola towards him roughly.  "If I were you, I would shut up now," he suggested, as he took the man towards a small, enclosed courtyard and pushed him inside.

No one faulted Grant for almost losing his temper with Zola.  That the Swiss scientist was a monster who masqueraded as a mild, meek individual was obvious.  Patiently, they waited for their commanding officer to regain control of his emotions.  With a firm look at all of them he assigned them their tasks, then they began to implement his plan, as the eastern sky began to lighten.

Steve and Peggy

The ride to the aircraft over that rough ground was enough to wring Steve out.  He was terrified that every jolt and roll of the truck they were in would dislodge the piece of metal that injured Peggy and was now keeping her alive by stopping her from bleeding to death.  Fortunately, considering they were betrayed, the aircraft was still intact.  It hadn't been sabotaged.  After loading Peggy onto it, and securing her as best they could, Murphy and Costello got it up in the air.

"Just going to fly over the area," said Murphy.  "They should hear us and know we got off the ground."

After a quick discussion Murphy and Costello decided that Rome would be the closest base with the facilities necessary to treat Peggy.  Steve said nothing; he just clutched his wife's hand in his own.  Never once, in all of their working and personal relationship had he ever been so afraid as he was right now.  He desperately wished for a rosary, wanting to do anything that would help keep her alive, but he couldn't even say the words of the prayers in his head.  All he could think of was that she wake up and not leave him.

"She'll be alright, Cap," said Rose.  "She's strong and has an iron will."

Smiling slightly at Rose's words, Steve kissed Peggy's cold hand and bent his head over it, resting his forehead on her fingers.  In what seemed like no time at all he heard Murphy send out a distress call, asking for emergency vehicles to be on hand for a critically injured person.  Someone must have answered because he spoke some more, and Rose went to the cockpit to listen.  He came back to Steve and placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

"They'll have an ambulance and a medical team waiting," he said.  "We're getting priority to land near Rome."

"You hear, that, Peg?" He leaned close to his wife's ear.  "You gotta hang on, honey.  Please, hang on."

Minutes later, the two pilots landed gently on the runway, using all of their piloting skills to keep it as smooth as possible.  They taxied over to where the ambulance and two jeeps were waiting.  As soon as they came to a stop, Rose opened the rear exit door and two medics got on with a stretcher and a medical kit.  They listened as the Corporal explained her injuries in greater detail and what they did to keep her stable.  One of them gently asked Steve to let them tend to her and he rose, stepping back just enough to allow them to do their work.  They checked her heart, then took her blood pressure, frowning at the numbers they were seeing.  Pulling an intravenous bottle out of the kit, they ripped her sleeve open and set up the drip into her arm.  After about ten minutes they took another reading and were satisfied that she was already improving.  They transferred her to their stretcher then picked it up to carry her out to the ambulance.  As they loaded her in, Steve moved to join them.

"Sorry, sir, but we need to stabilize her some more and need the room.  If you and the Corporal take the jeep, they'll follow behind us."

He breathed heavily, then nodded his head.  "Just let me speak to her, please?"

They stepped back and he stepped in, kneeling beside her in the ambulance.  Placing his mouth next to her ear he whispered something, then kissed her on the lips before standing up and exiting the vehicle.  The driver of the jeep nodded at Steve and Rose as they got in the jeep.  As soon as the ambulance put its siren on and began the journey to the base hospital the driver followed closely, not once letting it get too far away in the still dark morning.  A team of doctors and nurses were waiting at their arrival at the hospital, whisking Peggy away to surgery immediately.  Steve stood there; his face appearing tortured as he watched the love of his life disappear into the bright lights inside.

"Captain Rogers?"  He glanced at the voice, seeing an officer that was there when Bucky was brought in.  "This way, sir.  You and the Corporal can freshen up and we have a place for you to wait.  As soon as we have any word of Agent Rogers, you'll be the first to know."

He followed the officer to what looked like an office, except it had a couch, several large armchairs, and a bathroom.  Letting Rose get washed up first, he sat and stared at the floor, too numb to think of anything except Peggy.  When the Corporal came out, Steve went into the bathroom and took the top of his uniform off, noticing there was blood on it, Peggy's blood.  Sinking to his knees he began to cry, remembering the last time he lost a woman he loved, when his mother died.  It was a cathartic moment and when he finally shed enough tears, he washed his face and hands, using the hand towel there to dry them.  Wetting and soaping up a face cloth he scrubbed and rinsed off what he could from his uniform top, before tossing the facecloth into a hamper.  He would have to let his top air dry before he put it on again.  Opening the door, he was greeted by Rose, Murphy and Costello rising, none of them saying whether they heard him crying or not.  He gestured to the bathroom.

"It's free, if you want to wash up."

"Thanks, Cap," said Murphy, heading in.

There were sandwiches on a table in the room, and a carafe of coffee.  After draping his uniform top over a chair, Steve served himself and sat, wolfing down the first sandwich quickly.  Murphy came out of the bathroom and Costello took his place.  When he returned, they continued to eat, all of them keeping to themselves, as if there was a spell on them that none of them wanted to break.  As the minutes turned into hours, they waited, with the other three eventually drifting off into sleep, while Steve stayed awake, the serum in him keeping him alert until he knew for sure whether Peggy would live or die.

It was almost noon, when a doctor entered, focusing his attention on Steve, as the others sleepily roused themselves.

"I'm Major Brandon.  Mrs. Rogers is going to be okay," he said.  "The metal fragment missed the kidney, although it nicked a blood vessel.  Keeping the fragment in place slowed the bleeding."  He looked at the other three men, wondering if Steve wanted anyone else to hear this part but the tired soldier indicated the man should continue.  "There is a slight complication.  When she was being examined before surgery, a stethoscope was used to listen to her stomach sounds, just determining whether there were any other injuries that we had to be careful of as we removed the fragment.  We detected a heartbeat, a very fast heartbeat.  We've used a catheter to acquire a urine sample as Mrs. Rogers is still unconscious but we're running a pregnancy test and should have the results later this afternoon.  We're pretty sure she's about eight weeks pregnant, as the heartbeat isn't really audible until then, although considering you're the father it could be different for the child of a super soldier.  From what we can tell, the pregnancy isn't affected by the injury."

Steve fell back into the chair, dumbfounded.  Peggy, pregnant; he was going to be a father.  She was going to live and be a mother.  With his mouth suddenly drying out he tried to swallow then saw a glass of water in front of him, being held by Rose.  Taking it, he drank it down.

"Congratulations," said the Corporal, followed by the two pilots offering their good wishes.  "It couldn't happen to a better man, or woman.  First Sergeant and Mrs. Barnes, and now you and Mrs. Rogers."

Steve could feel the chuckle bubble up from his belly.  Him and Bucky, new fathers at almost the same time.  The doctor was still waiting there, a smile on his face.

"Can I see her?"

"She's still in recovery."  The doctor looked at the clock on the wall.  "She'll be in a room in about an hour and you can be with her then."  He turned to leave then stopped.  "I believe a General Phillips from the SSR in England is on his way here.  He was notified about Mrs. Rogers' injury and seemed most anxious to be here for her."

"Does he know about the other news?" asked Steve.

"No, and we'll let you share that with him, if you wish," smiled the doctor.  "Congratulations, Captain."

"Thank you," he replied, still overwhelmed by the news.

When he was informed an hour later that he could see her, he jumped up, and left without his Captain America uniform top.  The other three just smiled, truly happy for him.  They had Peggy in a separate room, usually reserved for high-ranking officers.  A nurse was checking her intravenous bottle, and left without a word, as Steve sat next to the bed and took Peggy's hand in his, kissing it.

"Sweetheart?" He called softly to her, hoping she was able to rouse enough.  A slight whimper gave him hope and he stood up, stroking her hair.  "Peggy, wake up, honey.  You're going to be okay."

It was several long moments before she gave out a short breath and her eyelids began to flutter.  He kissed her on the forehead, seeing her eyes open when he pulled away.  At first, she seemed confused then she saw her husband and a soft smile formed on her face.

"Where are we?"

"That base near Rome," he replied.  "You got injured and we had to fly you here for surgery."

"I have to get up," she murmured.  "We have to get out of here before the building collapses."

"We're not there, Peg," he persisted.  "You're in a hospital in Rome and you're just waking up from surgery."

"I'm not," she pouted, pursing her lips together.  She shifted.  "Ow, my back hurts."

"Yeah, you got a piece of metal in your back."  He smiled at how peeved she seemed while still under the influence of the anaesthetic.  "You were in surgery to remove it for a long time.  I have a secret to tell you."

"What?"  She looked up at him, her eyes still unfocused.  "Steven Grant Rogers, I'm your wife.  You can't have secrets from me."

"That's true, but it's actually your secret that you kept from me," he joked.  "I'm not very pleased about that."

"I didn't keep any secret from you."  She pouted again.  "You're mean.  Go away and let me sleep."

"Don't you want to know what I found out?"

"No."  She sounded like a three-year-old, which amused him.

"Okay, you sleep, then, and I'll tell you when you wake up."  She sighed and he tucked her in a little.  "I love you, my darling, so much."

"That's nice," she murmured.  "You should love me.  I'm your wife."

"Yes, you are," he replied, then kissed her on the forehead.  "My beautiful wife."

Sitting back in the chair, he was content to watch her.  The other three men checked in with him later, dropping off his uniform top, and he stood out in the hallway with them, listening as they told him they had received word from the others that they were on the way.  The rest of their squads had stayed to destroy Zola's lab and the base it was on, having captured the scientist himself.  That surprised him, that Zola was there.

"He's insisting that he be allowed to defend himself against the charges against him," said Murphy, "so they're bringing him here.  They released quite a few partisan prisoners and found four Americans who were just finished the first phase of the HYDRA treatment.  Not sure what condition they're in.  Should be interesting when they get here."  He nodded towards Peggy.  "How's the missus?"

"Groggy," replied Steve, with a smile.  "She thinks I'm being mean because I won't tell her a secret.  Listen, thank you, all of you, for helping to get her here safely.  I was ready to carry her in my arms and walk, if I had to.  I wasn't thinking rationally about it."

"You're welcome," said Rose.  "We're going to get something to eat.  Can we bring you anything?"

"Sure, whatever they have that is easiest for you," replied Steve.  "I'm not going anywhere."

When his food came, it was in the form of three cheeseburgers, delivered by Rose.  Quickly, he ate, washing them down with a glass of milk that the resourceful Corporal had acquired.  Peggy woke up as he was finishing, calling to him from the bed.  This time, her eyes were clear, and he knew by the sound of her voice that she would be alright.  He explained her injuries to her, then hesitated about the last part, playing with her hands in his.

"Alright, Steve," she spoke firmly.  "You know something that I don't."

He nodded, smiling shyly.  "The doctors found something before your surgery.  It still has to be confirmed but it would appear that you have a second heartbeat inside of you.  It was prominent enough for them to take a urine sample and send it in for testing."  She frowned, unsure what he was talking about.  "You're going to have a baby."

"No, that can't be right," she scoffed.  "We were careful and yes, I was late, but I often am when I'm in the field with you."

He smiled, lifting her hands to his lips to kiss.  "We weren't that careful on VE Day.  That was eight weeks ago, and they think you're that far along."  She still frowned, as if she wasn't happy with the news.  "You are okay with this, aren't you?"

Her smile came a little too quickly and didn't reach her eyes.  "Of course.  I just ... thought it wouldn't happen so soon."  Tears came to her eyes, and she wiped at them with her hand.  "It means I have to go back to New York, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it's too dangerous for you to be on missions anymore but you can still be at the SSR.  There's a lot you can do there.  I was hoping you would be happy about this."

"I am, I truly am," she answered, smiling wanly.  "It just wasn't something I was ready for."

Corporal Rose appeared at the door.  "Cap, the others have arrived.  There are some injuries."

He noticed Peggy as she tried to put on a brave face.  Steve put his uniform top on and left without a word.  Rose stepped inside, tentatively.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" he asked.

"Just a little affected by the news," she explained.

"You know, he never left your side the whole flight here," said Rose.  "He prayed, a lot.  When they took you straight to surgery, they showed us to an office we could use as a waiting room.  There was a bathroom so we could wash up.  We heard him crying then he came out with his top off, and wet from where he washed off your blood.  As glad as he was when he found out you were going to be okay, the news that you were expecting brought out a look I've never seen on him before.  He was lost for words.  Based on what we know of him before he became Cap, I don't think he ever expected to find someone to marry, never mind even having a family.  You're everything to him, ma'am."

"Thank you, Corporal."  Her face remained pensive.  "I worked hard to get to where I am.  Having children changes that.  I just wish I had some control over when that happened."

"Some things are meant to be," said Rose, "and really, no one has control over that.  You just make it work."  He smiled warmly at her.  "I should go, see if they need my help."

He left her there and headed towards the treatment area.  Cap was there, speaking with Special Agent Grant.  Rose walked amongst the men, noticing Dernier and Rumlow each had bandages on their hands, which the nurses were carefully peeling back, revealing burned skin.  Rumlow looked up and shook his head.

"We were making a bomb out of some raw materials.  Didn't have anything to use to handle them so we used our hands.  Not doing that again.  It'll be alright."  He nodded towards Gabe.  "He's got a concussion.  That little asshole, Zola, tried to knock him out with a piece of rubble, and warn the base we were there.  Woozy as he was, Jones tackled him and then sat on him.  Dugan's still laughing about it."

"Base is destroyed?" he asked.

Rumlow laughed.  "Hell yes.  There's a big hole in the ground where it used to be.  I think we made too big a bomb, eh, Jacques?"

"The boom was magnifique!" exclaimed the Frenchman, also laughing.  He leaned forward.  "Madame Rogers, she is okay, yes?"

"She's fine," smiled Rose, not mentioning the baby.

By the looks of it, the remaining injuries were of the cuts and scrapes kind.  He noticed that Zola wasn't there and wondered if he had already been taken into custody.  He glanced at Grant, who waved him over.

"Do we have assigned quarters?"

"Yes, I've already taken care of it," said Rose.  "When you're all released, I can show them to you.  They're scrounging up some extra clothing and toiletries as well."

"Alright, there's one more thing."  Grant pulled him away from the others.  "Zola has demanded a retrial.  The base commander radioed Supreme Allied Command and General Eisenhower has granted it.  Once General Phillips gets here, he, the base commander and the commander of the British forces will be placed on the tribunal.  Zola has decided to defend himself.  If he wins, he's to be released."  His face darkened.  "If he loses, his original sentence stands and is to be carried out immediately.  I'm putting you on the detail to acquire eight rifles, all of the same make, model, and caliber.  Each is to be loaded with one bullet.  Only two will have live rounds, the others will contain blanks.  Although I'm sure anyone in our unit would volunteer to be on the firing squad, I've been warned that won't go over well.  You're going to have to find eight soldiers on this base, willing to accept that responsibility.  They'll be masked to remain anonymous, in case HYDRA ever looks for retribution.  The men with the rifles that contain the live rounds, can't know they have them.  Do you understand what I am asking you to do?"

"Yes, sir, I do."  Rose drew himself up as tall as he could.  "I'll do my duty."

The Following Week

In the week the Howling Commandos and the Phantom Patrol were in that base near Rome, they were unable to do anything more than wait until they were called to testify at the trial of Arnim Zola.  Those who had been part of the 107th, taken prisoner at Azzano, were second, as Falsworth and Dernier, who were already prisoners at that factory were called first, relating to the tribunal about the many men who went to Zola's lab but never returned.  Bucky testified about the treatment he received from Zola, or by others under his direction, detailing how he had been abused, tortured, then subjected to mental reconditioning.  Zola tried to spin the treatment as necessary to determine the properties of the serum, and that Barnes should have been excited to be part of this new line of scientific research.  How the Sergeant kept his temper throughout his testimony was admirable, as he never once lost it.  Bucky, Grant and Gabe Jones also testified about the conditions the three severely soldiers were in at the one base that was liberated.  They detailed how Private Fitzpatrick had an untreated broken leg, was given a very weak form of the serum, then left to die when he showed no signs of improvement.  Zola shook his head and smiled as if they were silly children.

"It was necessary to test the levels of serum necessary for the body to heal itself," he insisted.  "Without that information, we wouldn't know where to start when we began larger-scale trials."

The prosecuting officer, a Colonel with a criminal law background, couldn't believe that Zola thought this was a valid defence.

"Did these men volunteer for this treatment?  Did you explain what you were doing?  Did you suddenly forget the Hippocratic Oath, to do no harm?  Nothing you have used for your defence explains why you thought it acceptable to use living, breathing humans as Guinea pigs."

Zola gave his warped little smile.  "Sometimes, to achieve greatness one must make decisions for others, especially when the work is to help the greater good.  As valuable as animal research is, at some point, a scientist needs a living, breathing human."

When the tribunal retired to consider the outcome, it took less than 10 minutes for them to find Zola guilty of crimes against humanity, fully restoring the outcome of his previous trial.  The sentence of death by firing squad was pronounced and the man was given an hour to prepare.  The scientist was taken to a courtyard, placed in front of a wall, where he refused a blindfold.  He wore a shirt with a red spot placed over his heart.  The firing squad of eight, masked soldiers marched out.  Each of them carried the same rifle, only two of them with a live round.  A sergeant for the base ordered them to raise their rifles, then to aim, and fire.  Zola was confirmed dead, and a local funeral director took the body, under the supervision of an officer, who witnessed the cremation and brought the ashes back.  General Phillips took custody of the urn.

Peggy, who spent the week with Steve, having several honest and tearful heart to heart talks with him, reaffirmed her love for him, as he did for her.  Having been declared fit to travel, she returned to England with General Phillips, who used a special opening in his aircraft, previously used to spread propaganda leaflets, to disperse Zola's ashes to the winds.  After some more recovery time in England, Peggy returned to New York, sharing the apartment with Gladdie, until the day their husbands returned from the war on HYDRA.

Chapter Text

August 6, 1945

The knock on the bedroom door was light, but Peggy heard it.  She must have slept through the alarm again.  Thank goodness for Gladdie.  Rising out of the bed, she opened the door, to the soft smile of her flatmate.

"It should get better, according to Eva," said the blonde woman.  "She thinks the growth of the baby takes more of our body's resources than a normal pregnancy, leaving us exhausted."

"Well, it's still maddening to sleep through an alarm," replied Peggy.  She nodded towards the bathroom.  "Are you done in there?"

Gladdie nodded.  "I can make something for breakfast here or we can get to the office early and eat in the cafeteria.  Since I still get motion sickness, I'm going to wait until the office."

"Sounds good to me," said the brunette.

She hurried back into the bedroom to get her toiletries and towels.  As the two women got ready both of them thought how well they got along together, despite their different backgrounds.  Peggy, from a well-off British family, and an active British Intelligence, then SSR agent until she became pregnant enjoyed the company of the mechanic from Queens.  They had similar temperaments, of women wanting to be more than just wife and mother.  Gladdie, called back into service to take advantage of her clearance level was being used in the financial office, tracking down financial records of companies believed to be in business relationships with HYDRA.  Her quick mind, and attention to detail, had discovered all sorts of connections, which were turned over to SSR analysts to determine if those companies were providing products and services to bases they hadn't found yet.  Since Bucky returned to Europe, her work had led to four bases being discovered and neutralized.

As for Peggy, she had to admit that with her stamina affected by the baby it was better that she was here, instead of being a potential liability in the field.  General Phillips likely would have kept her in England, cooling her heels, if she had insisted on staying.  Assigned to the analysis division she went over photographs from spy flights over Eastern Europe and Russia, trying to determine if what she was looking at were evidence of HYDRA bases.  Combined with on-the-ground intelligence reports from agents in the field, she had already become quite adept at combining the descriptions she read with the images she looked at.

Half an hour after waking, Peggy was ready and joined Gladdie in their shared living room, both of them in uniform.  Locking the door behind them, they stepped out of the building, heading for the subway station that would take them to Manhattan, arriving there shortly after 7:45.  Both of them checked in then went to the top floor cafeteria, and ordered breakfast.  Just before 8:30 they both placed their trays on the trolley and headed down to their respective offices.  It was shortly before 11 am when everyone was called to the cafeteria for a special meeting.  Even though it was the largest space in the building, it was still crowded, and seating was at a premium.  Gladdie, being on the main floor didn't expect to find a seat when she got there but Peggy waved to her, and she threaded her way through the throng of people to sit with her.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Announcement from the President," answered Peggy.  "Perhaps the war against Japan is over."

A large radio had been brought in and was currently playing music then a sombre voice said that the President was ready to address the nation.  As soon as they heard the first part of the address, everyone in that room knew that the world had changed.

Sixteen hours ago, an American airplane dropped one bomb on Hiroshima, an important Japanese Army base. That bomb had more power than 20,000 tons of T.N.T. It had more than two thousand times the blast power of the British "Grand Slam" which is the largest bomb ever yet used in the history of warfare.

Gladdie didn't really hear the rest of the announcement, other than Japan was being asked to surrender unconditionally, or risk being subjected to another similar bomb.  Her hands covered her abdomen instinctively, as if to protect the baby from the implications of the words.  Glancing at Peggy showed her with a similar reaction along with several other women employees who were in various stages of their own pregnancy.

When the president finished, the radio was turned off and the ranking officer in charge stood at the front of the room, and voiced what Gladdie felt about this irreversible change in the world.  He was understanding but firm that their work would still go on, as HYDRA was a different threat entirely.  Giving them the rest of the morning off, he asked they return to their duties at 1 pm, and diligently work to make the world safer for everyone.

"Come on," said Peggy.  "We're getting out of here."

"Where?"

"Anywhere," said the analyst.  "I need some fresh air."

When they stepped out of the building there was already a difference in the atmosphere.  It wasn't as celebratory as VE Day had been but there was that sense that the world had taken a different path, and there was no going back.  They took the subway to Central Park and treated themselves to a hot dog from a vendor, sitting on a bench to eat it.  Several crumbs from their food ended up on the sidewalk and they smiled at the birds brave enough to dart in and pick at the small morsels.  They kept their conversation light, until Peggy saw something troubling, and looked around in all directions.

"We have to get back," she said.

"It's not even 12:30," replied Gladdie.  "It will only take 10 minutes."

"No, we have to go now.  Come on."

She stood up, grasping Gladdie's hand and tugging her towards the road.  Looking behind them she saw that they were being followed and hurried the pace, looking for a taxi they could hail.  When a large panel truck pulled up, blocking them from the road Peggy turned and faced their followers, two men, both masked, and a woman.  Reaching inside her handbag she pulled out a pistol and aimed at them.

"Stop, or I will shoot," she said, her voice firm.

"No, you won't risk the life of your baby like that," said the woman, her voice slightly accented.  "Now be good girls and come with us.  You won't be hurt.  You have my promise."

Gladdie noticed a red pin on the jacket of one of the men and leaned towards Peggy.

"HYDRA?" she whispered.  Peggy nodded.  "Have you experienced any surges in your physical strength, yet?  I think we can take them."

A slight smile appeared on Peggy's face, and she nodded.  "You take the woman; I'll take the men.  Watch your back as that truck is still there."

Without hesitation, Gladdie threw her purse at the woman, distracting her long enough to pick her up and throw her a good twenty feet.  Peggy shot one of the other men in the knee, then picked the other one up and tossed him before turning back towards the street and shooting at the two men, also masked, who came out of the panel van.  Grabbing their purses, both women ran in another direction, then changed their directions as they saw a taxi driving beside the park.  Running out in front of it, Peggy stopped it and they both got in, demanding he take them to the SSR building.  Looking back out the rear window, they didn't see anyone following them.

"Dammit," swore Gladdie.  "I tore my stocking."  She began to laugh.  "My goodness, that was exciting.  Was it always like that when you were an active agent?"

"No, but it happened enough," answered Peggy.  "You did good."  She checked her own stockings.  "I think I have an extra pair at the office."  She became serious.  "They know we're pregnant.  I think we have a mole."

After paying the taxi driver, the two women entered the SSR building. Corporal Chatham was on duty and noticed Gladdie's torn stocking, as well as their heightened demeanours.

"Corporal Barnes, is everything alright?"

"We were followed, and they tried to abduct us," she said.  Immediately, he pressed a button on his desk, and they could hear the doors to the outside lock.  "We dealt with them.  We're fine."

"You don't understand, ma'am."  He looked embarrassed.  "You're both under protective guard and shouldn't have been on your own.  If these people attempted to take you, it means they took out your guard, first.  We have to launch an official investigation."

The door to the first-floor offices opened to the commander of the MPs exiting.  Chatham explained the reason for the alarm and the man, Captain Frankel, asked them both to come with him.   After instructing Chatham to notify their operatives, he escorted the women into his first-floor office.  In his office, he poured them each a glass of water.

"Private Richards was assigned to be your guard today.  He must be getting better at not being made as he successfully escorted you from your apartment to here without you noticing.  When you left for lunch, he should have kept you in his sights at all times.  You didn't see him in Central Park?"

"No, Captain," replied Peggy.  "Why was I not informed we had a guard on both of us?"

"Need to know," he murmured, then coughed.  "General Phillips didn't want you to feel like you were under surveillance.  Corporal Barnes has been observed since Sergeant Barnes left for Europe.  You never noticed?"

"Not exactly," replied Gladdie.  "You're aware of our pregnancies?"  He nodded.  "I'm not sure if you have clearance for this."  She looked at Peggy, who shrugged then nodded.  "We experience surges of abilities, that our husbands have.  Strength mostly, but there are times I've been able to hear soft sounds, like a person's heartbeat, or footsteps, especially when it's quiet.  There were several times I heard a heartbeat behind me as I walked, and it followed me.  I just thought it was someone else going to or returning home from work.  Now I wonder if that was my protection detail."

"It likely was but to be sure I'm going to have them meet you openly from now on and double the detail."  Peggy started to protest but Frankel put his hand up.  "It's not negotiable, Agent Rogers.  General Phillips was quite emphatic that the safety of both of you was paramount.  Today, you handled it but as your pregnancy advances the risks to you and your children also increases."  His phone rang and he answered, listening silently to the caller, before he hung up.  "They found Richards, a stab wound to the back of the neck, and his body dumped behind a bush.  It was most definitely HYDRA, and they knew you were there.  Which means we either have a mole here, or they've been watching you as well.  How they knew you were pregnant is beyond me as I believe you have both been seeing a doctor in the building to keep that information secure."

"That's true," replied Gladdie.  "Dr. Waslewski has been our doctor.  I haven't told anyone, except my mother and Bucky's family but they wouldn't spread it around."

"We'll have to talk to them.  Perhaps in their excitement they let it slip accidentally and someone was listening.  From now on, neither of you ladies are to be on your own.  You will have a two-man 24-hour guard."

"Our husbands, will they be informed?" asked Peggy.

"I will be calling the General as soon as you leave my office and let him handle that," answered Frankel.  "I'm not sure I would want to be present when that happens."

The two women returned to Peggy's office, where she offered Gladdie the extra stockings she had.  Although they didn't look forward to having a guard, it was obviously necessary if HYDRA took the opportunity to strike.

English headquarters of Howling Commandos and Phantom Patrol

The broken arm of the chair fell to the floor, as Bucky stood up, livid with anger directed at the General.  The other two men, Steve Rogers and Steven Grant, tensed, even though they both understood the depth of his feelings.

"You knew this would likely happen?"

"Sit down, Sergeant."  The General was unflappable, his expression not changing.  "I didn't know for sure, but we've always suspected that HYDRA has a cell in New York.  After you left, I put a protective detail on your wife, that was extended to Agent Rogers on her return.  The detail stayed in the background and didn't interfere with their daily activities.  Until the incident today, there didn't seem to be any issue."

"And now Private Richards is dead, another casualty of HYDRA," muttered Bucky.  "What now?"

"Now, we try to find a mole in that building," said Phillips.  "Then we look at family or friends who may have let that information slip accidentally.  Lieutenant Sousa is flying in from Los Angeles to handle the investigation.  In the meantime, the detail has been doubled and it will no longer be in the background.  There will be a visible two-man guard detail with your wives and based on Sousa's immediate recommendation a larger, secret guard.  We're going to assume they will try again, and Sousa will also be in charge of the response unit.  We will stop them, Sergeant.  I promise you as one husband to another.  You know Lieutenant Sousa will do the job in a thorough manner."

Neither Steve nor Steven Grant said anything as Bucky processed the information.  When he nodded and sat back in the damaged chair, they knew the crisis had passed.  Both of them knew that Bucky would have risked going AWOL and returning to New York on his own to deal with it.

"Is that all, sir?" Bucky asked.

"No, I want you to know that your wives have provided exemplary service to the SSR while they've been in New York.  Their analytical skills have helped find ten targets between them.  You've already dealt with six of those targets and I want to get going on a plan for the next four."  He pulled four files out of his desk and placed them in front of Steven Grant.  "The top file is courtesy of Agent Rogers.  Apparently, a soldier returned to your Brooklyn neighbourhood with a souvenir and was showing it around to friends and family.  She saw it and recognized it immediately as one of the artifacts that was missing from HYDRA's Research Facility Number 4.  She pulled rank on him and had him report to the SSR offices to be debriefed on how he acquired it.  Turns out there were several artifacts scooped up by several of his fellow soldiers.  They are being visited in turn to have the items confiscated.  I think given the nature of some of those artifacts our combined teams should be there to secure the site and inventory whatever is left."

Steven Grant took the pile of folders and stood up.  Still in civilian clothes he nodded at the General while the other two saluted him.  Dismissed, they returned to their barracks and gathered in Grant's quarters at a large table.  Putting the other three folders aside they opened the first one and Grant read it.

"Says they traded cigarettes with some Russian soldiers for the artifacts," he read out loud.  "U.S. 69th Infantry Division came into contact with the 58th Guards Rifle Division near Torgau, Germany, on April 25th.   That's the dividing line between Allied control and Russian control of Germany and it was well before the attack on the Research Facility in Austria.  So how did a Russian infantry division in Germany get their hands on HYDRA artifacts and trade them off, that were supposed to be in Austria weeks later, according to the manifests we found?"  Grant flipped to the next page and smiled.  "Peggy is thorough.  She's provided a list of Russian soldiers and their commanding officers of that division.  One of them has the same last name as a prisoner from the Research Facility, might be related.  She's suggesting that we talk to him."

"Where are the prisoners being held?" asked Bucky.

Grant grimaced as he read further.  "6833rd Guardhouse Overhead Detachment in Somerset, the same prison where Bradley and Rumlow were being held.  It's been converted to a PoW camp specifically for HYDRA.  That place was terrible for Bradley.  Doesn't say who the commanding officer is now.  I'll get Rose to find that out, then Raines and I will go and interrogate this prisoner."  He pulled the other three files over.  "Why don't you two go through these and start developing some strategies to attack them.  Bucky, get the men doing standard training starting tomorrow, 08:00.  Once we know more about these four targets, I want to be ready to take them down as quickly as possible."

He stepped out into the night.  It wasn't too late, but he needed that information on the CO at the prison.  That sergeant and Colonel John Flynn were not the easiest people to deal with.  The windows on the enlisted men's barracks were lit up and he could hear snippets of conversation between the various soldiers.  There was the usual joking and light teasing, that made him smile.  Having the Phantom Patrol had been a good idea.  Although they started out as a separate unit, he had been pleased at how easily they integrated with the Howling Commandos on joint missions, which were more often than not, now.  Together, they were a well-oiled machine.  As he stepped into the building both Dum Dum and Bradley stood at attention, but he waved them off.  They were beyond the standard discipline of a normal army unit.  They were all brothers-in-arms.

"I just need to speak with Rose and Raines," he said to Dum Dum, then noticed something chocolate on the man's cheek.  "You have something, icing maybe, on your cheek."

The big man grinned.  "Kathleen sent baking.  The icing on the cake stuck to the wax paper but it's still good.  I'll go get them."

Bradley motioned to a chair and Grant sat in it, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, while the Sergeant took his own chair.

"There's been some talk among the men about how long you think this is going to take," he said, tentatively.

"As long as the SSR keeps sending us files of targets," replied Grant.  "We just got four more today.  Of course, that's just Europe.  When we return, we have to turn our eye to South America."

"Will everyone be expected to stay with the unit?"

Grant smiled slightly.  It was obvious that Bradley was fishing.

"It will be up to each man," he replied.  "I know that some people have sacrificed more than others, but HYDRA is a danger to everyone.  At some point, I guess I'll have to have a meeting with everyone and put the question to them if they want to carry on the fight, or step back.  There won't be any attempt to force anyone to stay if they've reached the point where they're done.  They'll all get honourable discharges, and the General has already indicated there will be a special citation for everyone."

"That's good," smiled the quiet soldier.  "You know, I volunteered.  Even with all that my people have suffered, it's still home and I wanted to be a good soldier."

"You are, Isaiah, one of the best men I ever worked with," replied Grant.  "You've made a difference in this war and I'm a better man for knowing you."

"Thank you, your words mean a lot," nodded Bradley.

Dum Dum returned with Rose and Raines.  Standing up, Grant gestured for them to go outside.

"It looks like we have to make a return trip to the 6833rd Guardhouse Overhead Detachment in Somerset," he said, looking at Rose.  "We have to interrogate one of the HYDRA prisoners there.  I don't know who the CO is now, and I want a report on whoever it turns out to be, so I know how to approach them.  Raines, you'll be my translator."

"What's it about?" asked the Corporal.

"Need to know for a little while longer but I'll read you in, I promise."

"Fair enough.  Is that all, sir?"

Grant nodded and the two enlisted men returned to their barracks.  He walked back towards his quarters in the dark, stopping to look up at the twilight, where Jupiter was visible low in the sky.  It was a beautiful sight, but it filled him with a little bit of melancholy.   God, he missed Eva.  They only had the one night after they married.  She was a good soldier, in her own right, letting him go without complaint, but he realized something at that moment.  He was ready to let it go, for good this time.  The army, and the fighting, wasn't as important to him, even though he wouldn't give up until they finished HYDRA off.  The words he told Bradley rang in his head and he knew that when he had that talk with the men that he would start by telling them he was packing it in.  Voicing that decision, at least in his head, felt good and he returned to his quarters with a lighter heart.

The second visit to the military prison went smoother than the first time.  The same sergeant still presented them with an attitude of coldness, but he didn't challenge Grant's authority.  Colonel John Flynn, still in command, was civil.  Although he requested to know the reason for the interrogation of the prisoner, he readily accepted Grant's explanation that it was classified.  With that taken care of, Flynn instructed the sergeant to bring the prisoner to an interrogation room then escorted Grant and Raines to the same room.

As they waited, Grant opened a portfolio case he brought, taking out a legal pad of paper, several pencils, two packages of American cigarettes and several chocolate bars, valuable incentives for a man on prison rations.  General Phillips had indicated there could be bugs in the room, as the OSS were also interested in HYDRA intelligence, presumably looking for the same artifacts.  Even though their translators could be listening, the two soldiers weren't going to make it easy for them.  The pair had already discussed what would be asked, as Raines had written the questions in Russian at the top of each sheet.  Then he would offer the paper to the prisoner to write down his answers on the paper.  It would be a written transcript of a conversation performed entirely by pencil.  There was the chance that Flynn could demand the papers, but Raines would also read each answer and communicate that to Grant in a low enough voice that any hidden microphones couldn't decipher.

The man, when he was brought in, looked terrible.  His face was pale, his eyes sunken and nervous; the looseness of his prison clothes proof of the poor diet of the rations he was being fed.  When he saw the two of them, it was obvious he recognized them, although he said nothing.

"You are Leonid Antonov?" asked Raines, in Russian.  The man nodded.  "Come, sit.  Would you like a cigarette, or some chocolate?"

"Cigarette."

Opening a package, Raines offered the man one, then lit it for him as he put it between his lips.  A gap in the teeth of his lower jaw indicated the space where his false tooth had been removed.  He had been a true believer if he was willing to die for HYDRA.  He inhaled the first drag of the cigarette deeply before blowing it out to the side.

"These two packages are for you, as well as the chocolate if you answer some questions for us."

The man gestured overhead. "They're listening, always listening."

"We know.  You don't have to speak.  We have this."  Raines pointed to the legal pad. "No more words need to be spoken between us.  You answer and we give you the cigarettes and the chocolate."

"Why should I help you?  I'm here in this hellhole because of you."

"We can get you transferred to a PoW prison farm.  There, you will have to work, but you will be outside, will see the sun, and the food is much better.  You will have to publicly renounce HYDRA, though.  Are you still a believer?"

"Fuck HYDRA." He spat, the phlegm landing on the floor.  "Fuck them.  Liars and madmen, all of them.  I was never a believer and would have left them sooner, but I was too afraid."  He leaned forward, glaring at Raines intensely. "They have my family as hostages.  Can you get them out?"

The Corporal leaned back in his chair, then gestured to Grant to come close, knowing he could whisper very softly in his ear, low enough that the bugs wouldn't pick it up.

"They have his family as hostages and wants us to rescue them.  He says he's not a true believer.  He may have had the tooth forced on him, as he had plenty of time to break it when we were at the facility, but he didn't.  I remember he surrendered willingly."

Grant said nothing but put his finger to his lips while he nodded his head affirmatively.  Immediately, Leonid's face changed as he realized he could trust the pair.  Raines slid the pad over to him and the man read the first question, writing down the answer immediately, then offered it to Raines who read it.  As he wrote out the answer for the second question Raines whispered in Grant's ear again.  For each question that Leonid answered, Raines passed it on to Grant.  When he got to the final page of questions, Leonid read what was written there several times before looking up at the two men, puzzled.  The question was if he knew where other HYDRA bases were.  He wrote down something then passed it to them.

"I only heard rumours after those smaller artifacts were stolen, the officers didn't trust any of us with exact locations."

Raines read it.  Earlier the man wrote he wasn't related to the Russian who traded artifacts with the Americans for cigarettes.  Perhaps he knew who did take them.

"Do you know who stole them?"

"The American, Malick.  Took them and came back as bold as brass, without them.  He should have been shot but was sent to the PoW camp near the facility to redeem himself.  He was to get intelligence on your activities, as your attack was expected.  We were told to delay you as long as possible.  Reinhardt left with several crates and went elsewhere.  You attacked the following day."

Raines whispered it in Grant's ear, making the special agent sit up with interest. If the attack was expected it confirmed their suspicion of a leak or a mole.

"Ask him to write down anything he knows about their mole in the SSR, plus the names of the locations that were rumoured."

Raines scratched that onto the pad and showed it to Leonid, who nodded, and began to furiously write.  When he finished and pushed the pad back, the Corporal read it and whispered the answer to Grant.

"He says the mole, from what has been discussed is part of the OSS, working for both.  He's impersonating an MP in New York, no name.  He wrote down eight places, four of them we've already hit, two are in the list of the ones we're training for now, and two are not on any list as far as I know.  One of those two is in UIA territory and the other is in the Balkans, but that one is a storage depot, he thinks, as all sorts of things were being shipped to them, stopping at the Research Facility before moving on."

"What type of things?"  Grant frowned.  "Why would they place a storage depot in the Balkans when nearly all of their facilities were hundreds or thousands of miles away?"

Raines wrote down the question and watched as the man answered.  When he read it, he seemed to make his own leap in logic.

"Building materials," he said, in his low voice.  "Raw materials to make cement, copper wiring, lumber, tools, even heavy equipment that they stole from the Germans and Italians.  They've got to be building a base."

"Is there anything else he wants to add?"

Raines added that and Leonid wrote furiously again then looked at both men with thinly disguised anguish.  The Corporal smiled at the man as he read the answer then spoke to him.

"We will do our best." He turned to Grant.  "The last known location of his family and their names."

Standing up, Grant nodded his head at the man, then handed him the cigarettes and chocolates.  Raines tightly rolled up the papers and placed them inside a cylinder that had been in the portfolio, sliding it down inside his boot, but under his trousers.  Everything else was placed back in the portfolio case and they left Leonid there, as Raines knocked on the door.  When it opened, Colonel Flynn was waiting, while two MPs went inside.

"So, what did you learn?"

"I already told you that's classified, sir," replied Grant.  "We would like to take him with us, if you don't mind.  We think he has more to tell in a less intimidating environment."

"Not going to happen, not without orders from Ike himself," replied the Colonel.

The two MPs came out, escorting Leonid, still carrying the cigarettes and chocolate.

"Confiscate those," ordered Flynn.  "The others will kill him for them."

"No, he earned them," answered Grant.  "If anything happens to him, you'll be responsible, so you make sure he's in good health when I return with the orders from General Eisenhower, transferring him to a different PoW facility."

Returning to the base, Raines took the rolled-up papers and requested the use of a typewriter to translate the transcript so that a written report could be given to the General.  As he sat in front of one and expertly slid a paper into it, Grant grinned at him.

"Were you a secretary before the war?"

"No, I studied Eastern European languages, mostly Polish and Russian, plus I already knew German having a German grandparent," said the tall, lanky man.  "Got hired as a foreign correspondent and sent to Europe in 1935 to report on Hitler's rise.  I soon realized I couldn't stay objective.  When he invaded Poland, I was there, and I joined the resistance.  Then it got too dangerous for me, and I managed to get to England safely.  America was still taking too long to decide so I joined the British Army, trained as a commando, then transferred in 1943 to the American Army.  Figured if I was going to die over here, I might as well do it for my flag, as late as it was getting into the game."

"You're a good man," said Grant, watching as Raines quickly typed his translation.  "What are you going to do after?"

The other man stopped for a moment, then shrugged a little.  "I think we'll be chasing them for a while.  I would kind of like to be involved in the South American operation, after what they put Anya through.  You?"

"Leaning to finishing it when we're done in Europe, but don't say anything.  I'll make myself available if I'm needed and I have a feeling that my future knowledge is going to be needed to guide some things through.  I'm at the point where I want to start a family, but I'll have to talk to Eva about that."

Raines nodded then stopped again.  "Eva and Anya were both killed by HYDRA in your timeline, didn't they?"  Grant nodded.  "Thank you for changing their fate.  It's probably not a secret that I have feelings for Anya.  She's an incredible woman and if I make it home, I plan to ask her to marry me."

"Well, if she accepts then we'll be in-laws, Arthur," said Grant.  "We'll probably see each other a lot."

"Probably.  Now leave me alone so I can get this done so you can talk to General Phillips and get Leonid Antonov out of that prison.  Were Bradley and Rumlow really prisoners there?"  Grant nodded.  "Damn.  We're just as bad as the Germans for some things, aren't we?"

Half an hour later, Raines delivered the translation and Grant reported to General Phillips, requesting a change of location for the Russian prisoner to a prison farm.  He also let drop that he promised the man to find his family and rescue them.  Phillips read the translation with a stern face.

"You're sure he's telling the truth?  It's one thing to curse HYDRA, but it's another to accuse one of our MPs of being an OSS / HYDRA double agent.  It would explain how they knew the women were pregnant, and that they left the building."

"I believe Raines noted that he was one of the first to surrender at Research Facility Number 4.  He never activated his poison tooth.  He was in rough shape and only hesitated to answer the last question, admitting he only knew rumours.  If even half of his information pans out, I'll be happy."

"Oh hell, I'll probably regret this, but I'll phone General Eisenhower.  I'll also let Lieutenant Sousa know about the intelligence on the mole and see what comes of that.  If he turns around and leads HYDRA to our doorstep, it's on you."

"Yes, sir, I understand."

He got out of there before the General changed his mind and returned to his quarters.  It had been a long day, and after dinner, he laid out on his bed, reading his last letter from Eva.  When he woke up in the morning, it was to General Phillips' clerk knocking on the door to tell him to report.  Quickly washing his face and changing, Grant hurried to the General's office, gaining entrance immediately.  He was shocked to see General Eisenhower and his aide, sitting there.  Even though he was in civilian clothes he stood at attention immediately.

"General Eisenhower, sir.  Forgive me for not being in uniform."

"Relax, Major.  Stand at ease.  This isn't an official visit.  I just wanted to hear for myself your take on why this Leonid Antonov, taken prisoner at HYDRA's Research Facility Number 4, should be transferred to a prison farm."

"Not everyone who is in HYDRA is there willingly sir," replied Grant.  "It became pretty obvious just watching him and then listening to Corporal Raines' translation that the man wasn't their typical soldier.  His job at the facility was a cook, hardly a hardened soldier.  Several things he told us coincided with intelligence we already had and the ones that weren't were awfully convincing.  He cooperated fully, accepted that he would remain a PoW, but in a different facility and was more concerned about his family.  True believers in HYDRA will sacrifice their family to their cause, in our experience."

The General let out a deep breath then looked at General Phillips.  "What do you think, Chester?  There are going to be some raised eyebrows at transferring a HYDRA prisoner.  Colonel Flynn has recommended against it."

"Excuse me, sir, you spoke to Colonel Flynn?"  Grant looked from Eisenhower to Phillips.

"Yes, he phoned me yesterday to protest against you coming in and upsetting the apple cart, so to speak.  He was very convincing."

"With all due respect, General, Flynn is ... overcompensating for a grievous error he made in allowing a State Department employee to attend the Project Rebirth treatment of Captain Rogers in 1943.  That employee was a HYDRA plant and he walked right in with the Colonel's blessing, in an attempt to kill Dr. Erskine, an attempt that was foiled.  When I first became involved with the SSR and was recruiting my team, I went to that prison to secure the release of two individuals, Private Bradley and Private Rumlow.  He refused, calling them a danger to society.  Rumlow broke into a locked filing cabinet to remove a disciplinary report for a fellow soldier, hardly a dangerous criminal.  Bradley, well, what was done to him was criminal, in my opinion.  Both of those men have been valued members of this unit, have done their duty well, and have risked their lives in many of our missions."

Eisenhower raised his hand, and Grant ceased speaking.  A slight smile crossed the face of the Supreme Allied Commander, and he shook his head, standing up.  Nodding to his aide, he stopped in front of Grant.

"I'm well aware of the injustice that was done to Sergeant Bradley," he said solemnly.  "A man in my position has to delegate a lot to others as it's just too much for a single man to handle.  Bradley should never have been court-martialled, so when I received the request for a letter allowing his release, I signed it, as it was the least I could do.  You're not wrong about Flynn but he does run a tight ship."  He put his hand out and the aide handed him an envelope.  "Here is the letter to secure the release of Leonid Antonov.  He's not going to a prison farm, Major.  He's joining your unit, since the majority of your targets seem to be in Eastern Europe.  I say you use the man, soldier or not, but he will be your responsibility.  Give him the chance to rescue his family himself.  If he comes through at the end of it all, he will have redeemed himself in my eyes and I will make sure he is compensated.  Those are my terms."

That was not something Grant was expecting but he wasn't about to refuse the letter.  Taking the letter from the aide's hand meant that Antonov's life was in his hands.  Then he heard Corporal Rose's voice in his head, saying that maybe he was meant to change this man's life as well.  So be it.  Leonid Antonov was about to become the first Russian member of the Phantom Patrol.