Ada

Bucky and I lay in bed together past midnight, naked and cold, having received the news that our leave will be a short three days longer before we're required to return to our own beds within headquarters to be on call whilst the SSR formulates our next plan of action before we're thrown back into the thick of things.

In the low light we share a cigarette, neither of us overly eager to fall back to sleep. Not when it was my own nightmare that woke us up a mere hour ago, but it wasn't the type of nightmare he believes it to be. Not the type where we're in the midst of a firefight, or even in one of Hydra's cells, but the type where I walk familiar halls with pointe shoes in hand.

His arm's wrapped around my shoulders and I'm numb as we ponder what lies ahead of us.

"God I want this to be over," Bucky finally says, his head falling back on the pillow as he tries to overcome his own apprehension. "I remember what you said when we met about not going into this thinking it's some type of adventure, but I really think that's the only way to get through it. Some of the guys, they almost take a bullet in the head and just keep going like it's nothing but I- I don't. I'm good at what I do and I'm happiest when I'm sitting around a campfire with a drink in hand, but-"

"You wish it was under different circumstances," I finish for him and he nods.

"Yeah." He chokes out a laugh. "I really do." He looks over and brings me in tighter. "At least I've got a hell of a lot of best men now for our wedding."

"Meanwhile I've got Peggy and Howard as bridesmaids," I force myself to jest despite the weight on my chest and he laughs and kisses my forehead.

"God I can't wait to marry you." His hand trails along my body and they're the only things that give me warmth. "Make love to you every night for the rest of our lives."

I raise an eyebrow. "Even when we're old and grey?"

"Oh yeah," he says with a smile before remembering "And besides, aren't you meant to age more slowly?"

"Oh is that it is it?" I tease. "Marrying me because I'll stay young and pretty for longer?"

"I-" he stammers, very carefully assessing his answer. "I didn't even know that the aging thing was a thing before two months ago."

I laugh now at having him all anxious and study his face.

"I think you'll age well," I say, reaching to run a fingertip over his stubbled cheek. "What are you now? Twenty seven and you still have a baby face."

"Shut up," he blushes just like the very first time.

"It's true," I say and he can't quite argue. "You can have a baby face and still be the most handsome man I've ever seen."

"Well, when you put it like that..."

I nuzzle into him, half lying atop him. "You're soft."

He chuckles quietly. "You wouldn't prefer me to be six and a bit feet of hard muscle like Steve?"

I just scoff and my voice drips with sarcasm. "Yes, because the wrestler's physique is so disappointing."

He grins at the hand I run over his body and remarks "You know, I don't think I've met anyone with less physical attraction to Steve than you."

"And I'm sure you could say the same for Steve towards me," I assure him and he nods in agreement. "He's just- he's Steve. I can't think of a person I'm less sexually attracted to."

"Howard?" he says for the sake of being a little shit and I half playfully slap his chest.

"Do you really want me talking about Howard while I'm naked?"

"No- nope," he quickly says and I laugh before reassuring him.

"Trust me when I say that I'm probably more attracted to Peggy than either of them," I remark and he doesn't know whether to seem relieved or confused before playing along.

"Well I'm probably more attracted to-"

I put a finger over his lip. "Oh no, I don't need to hear-"

"You," he finishes against my finger before gently flicking my hand. "I'm more attracted to you than anyone else. I'm not an idiot."

I cock an eyebrow at him in doubt. "Sometimes you are."

"Oh really?" he laughs. "Like when?"

"Like when you're thinking that I'd ever sit around wishing you looked any different," I say, swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him and covering his body with my own. "Because god... I can't tell you how much I love your body."

A familiar gleam fills his eyes and his voice deepens. "Yeah?"

"Mmhmm," I murmur, my lips brushing over his neck as I make my way down his body. "But I can show you."

He exhales and just like that I feel him harden again beneath me. I smirk and he says "I think you like having me wrapped around your finger a little too much."

My lips are on his hip when I look up at him. "Damn right I do."

My mouth travels further and it's not long before he's spent and fast asleep again while I lay there in his arms with my eyes open as I have for so many nights. Watching the door for any slight sign of the door handle being turned, even the vent for any sign of movement.

Ever since that last night in Brooklyn paranoia's seeped in and it's only worsened since we've returned here. In the field I felt safe, isolated and hidden, but in London there's always a thousand eyes everywhere.

It's been four months and in that time more widows could have been placed into the field. The youngest graduate in my class was born in '24 before I killed her along with the rest, and since then three more years worth of girls have come of age to graduate considering they seem to have followed the age of Soviet conscription at seventeen.

When I was enrolled there was one class of fifty girls born in '22 and '23. Five of us made it to the end. The years after us were strictly divided by year with fifty girls in each, and that's fifteen or so graduates since my disappearance if they've stuck with the rule of one in ten. Five girls in '41, five more in '42, another five in '43, and five more will graduate by the end of this year.

I keep telling myself with the war that they're ranks will be too far stretched for them to assign another with the sole mission of keeping track of my movements but I was wrong in that assumption before.

Carefully I untangle myself from his embrace and settle by the open window with a cigarette and a blanket wrapped around my naked body. I'd never forgive myself if he was hurt because of me, because I know exactly what I would be forced to do to him if my mother knew I'd been weak enough to truly fall in love.

I'm on my third cigarette by the time Bucky stirs awake again, the clock on the wall pointing to it being 4 am.

"Lina?" Bucky murmurs with the sheets over his waist. "Come back to bed, baby."

"I'm coming," I say softly and take one last draw before putting out my cigarette and slipping back into bed with him, immediately seeking out his warmth and trying to put him at ease.

"What are you doing up again?" he murmurs. "Another bad dream?"

"Just couldn't sleep," I dismiss and he's tired enough that he accepts the answer.

"Then come here," he says, pulling me back into his embrace. "You've barely slept since we got back."

"I know I'm just- I think it's just hard to switch off," I say and he understands what I mean even if it isn't the full truth.

"You seemed to sleep better when we were out in the field," he remarks, not realising just how true it is.

"I think it's just... I don't know," I tell him, refusing to lie but refusing to be truthful. "I just worry."

He looks out towards the window and says "If there's any bombings we'll hear the sirens and get to a bunker."

"Yeah," I say and he kisses my forehead.

"Nothing bad's gonna happen while I've got you alright?"

"I know baby," I force myself to say and settle back into his embrace, looking at the light peaking in from the hallway outside and watching for footsteps with a knife hidden just in reach.

~

The next morning Bucky enters headquarters separately from me upon receiving a telephone call from Howard telling us that our presence is required. With the amount of operatives in the service of the American and British governments I'd be an idiot to think that Phillip's ignorant when it comes to Bucky and I, but he's learned to pick his battles when it comes to me and it seems that he's willing to turn a blind eye as long as we don't cause him any grief.

But still, my caution when it comes to being seen with Bucky isn't because I'm worried about Phillips. The incident in Brooklyn reminded me that there could be any number of Soviet or German operatives watching at any time and I can't give them ammunition. Especially not when Bucky would be on the receiving end of it.

There's more faces than there had been a few months ago inside headquarters and I only find myself annoyed by them. The first one that brings me any sort of joy is Howard's but his expression is anything but joyful.

The moment he spots me he immediately makes his way to me and leans in. "Ada, get your field uniform and your armoury and meet me by the closest church," he instructs, his voice panicked. "Don't let anyone see."

He keeps moving and alarm pounds in my chest, but I do as he asks without question. Quickly I find my way to Peggy and I's room which is currently vacant. I take my rucksack and throw inside the cleanest of my field uniforms and a change of clothes considering I don't know what's happening along with my standard set of weapons.

In my rush I scribble a note for Peggy considering her and Bucky will panic if I'm missing with no warning. They'll still panic regardless but at least they can't scold me for a lack of courtesy.

Helping Howard with business. Be back soon. Hopefully.

Quickly I find my way out of headquarters and question if Howard even has the slightest clue where the nearest church is, but I follow his instructions. Sure enough by the closest church I find a back ally and enter it to find Howard standing by his car, pacing.

"Howard, will you tell me what's going on?"

He jumps slightly and takes my arm to pull me in close, dropping his voice to a whisper. "The military's had me working on a stimulant that would keep frontline troops awake in order to sustain them through long engagements."

"Yes, there are a number of drugs that do that although I'd slap my men if I saw any of them with a bag of cocaine in the middle of the field."

"Precisely, we can't exactly give millions of men cocaine on the daily so they had me come up with an alternative," he says and slips me a piece of paper with a formula written on it. "Which is why I invented this."

"It's a gas?" I recognise and he nods before tearing it into shreds. "I don't-"

"Midnight Oil's the working name," he tells me. "I designed it so it could be deployed over large numbers of troops, except it's untested."

"Why would you name it Midnight Oil if it's a gas?"

He blinks at the audacity. "It's an oil until it's vaporised into a gas, didn't they teach you science in Russia?"

"Yes, which is why I'm quite adept with chemicals and poisons but unfortunately not in English scientific terminology," I rebut. "So what's the issue?"

"General McGinnis broke into my factory last night and stole it," he tells me and suddenly his panic makes sense. "And when has the United States ever had a weapon that they don't use?"

"Except this isn't a weapon, it's a drug-"

"Okay, I lied," he suddenly switches up. "It was tested and results showed that it kept people awake but not without symptoms similar to very severe sleep deprivation; anger, psychosis, hallucinations. The whole deal but to the extreme, and you should know better than to think that a drug can't be both. After I tested it I refused to hand it over but they didn't take me backing out of the contract well."

My jaw clenches. "And so the General went rogue and stole..."

"Twelve cannisters which is enough to deploy over an army."

"Shit," I breathe and he nods. "Why haven't you told the SSR?"

"Because it isn't their department and they can't interfere in military operations without getting shut down," he says and I clench my jaw. "You know as well as I do that there'll be a government cover up and if they decide to use anyone as a scapegoat it's not going to be a highly awarded general. As far as I'm concerned if word of this gets out then I'll be the one accused of purposefully sabotaging a US military operation and everything I'm working on will be confiscated for them to use however the hell they want."

He shares my distaste for the government and I don't attempt to argue with him or try to ease his mind because we both know it's true. They'd sooner throw their contracted weapons manufacturer under the bus than the military itself, and the thought of them having free access to whatever Howard's been working on...

"Where's the General?"

"He left for Finow last night which means he's got a head start on us. If we can get there in time we can stop him from using it-"

"Then why are we standing here and talking?" I ask and throw the car door open. "Get in, I'll drive."

"I hadn't even gotten to the part where I was going to graciously ask if I could borrow your skill set," he says as I push him into the passenger seat and get inside the driver's side of the car, pulling the keys out of his hand and starting it with‌ little hesitation.

"Considering you already knew what my answer would be we can skip past the formalities."

"And considering your line of work I figured that you're used to dealing with generals," Howard remarks and the quirk of his eyebrows is enough to confirm he's put my name to a few targets that the SSR hasn't. "Hell you might even get a kick out of it."

"Well, it was my area of expertise to be fair," I admit with a slight smile and he holds on as the car screeches slightly upon turning a corner. "Although I have one condition."

"Name it."

"You let me brush up on my piloting skills."

He's slightly afraid but still manages a smile. "Deal."

~

Several hours later I'm dressed in my field uniform and heavily armed as we approach the US airfield near Finow in Germany, but from the air we catch sight of a battlefield and realise we've arrived in the aftermath of a fight. Howard's focused on landing but my sight's enhanced enough that I can see it was no firefight.

It was slaughter.

And the only uniforms I see belong to Soviet soldiers.

We land at an airfield several miles from the main base and there's a handful of airforce pilots around, but it's mostly barren with the exception of a smart looking man waiting to greet us.

"Oh Mr Stark," the man says, tall and British. "It is a relief to see you but I wish it weren't under these circumstances."

"You and me both, pal. Ada this is Edwin Jarvis, he's an aid to the general that stole my damn invention," Howard grits out but curbs his frustration. "Jarvis this is Agent Morgan."

Jarvis's eyes widen slightly in recognition before he nods in respect. "Considering the situation I suppose it is best that we have a representative who is fluent in Russian."

"There's Russian troops at the main camp?" I ask in slight panic and he's pale.

"No, no Russians," he assures me. "But we have been expecting Soviet officials to come and witness the sight of the battlefield. The Nazis have already been through and left without confrontation."

"Jarvis," Howard says, his voice rough. "How bad is it?"

He refrains from a truthful answer, clearly shaken. "It is something that cannot be described. I have been instructed to bring you to the main camp." He opens the back door of a jeep. "Ladies first."

I step inside, tugging on Howard's sleeve to bring him with me. In all the time I've known him never once have I seen him in this state and I tap his knee to bring his attention to me.

"Whatever's happened, we will take care of it," I tell him and he nods before clearing his throat.

"I'm sorry to drag you into this, especially if there's a chance of Russians turning up," he begins before stammering. "I just- I didn't know who else to go to."

"You've always had my back and it should go without question that I've got yours," I say as I look out at the road. "No matter the circumstance."

He reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight. Under different circumstances I'd be scolding him but the tremor in his hand's far from anything romantic in nature. He's barely keeping it together.

I squeeze his hand back and twenty minutes later the camp comes into sight. The first thing I notice is the lack of injured men considering how many bodies I saw on that battlefield considering this is meant to be a joint US-Soviet operation..

Something isn't right.

Jarvis opens the door of the jeep when we arrive and I step out with Howard following behind me to find dozens of soldiers watching and there's a lump in my throat. They may be American soldiers, but I'm no less cautious.

A strongly built officer approaches and I recognise him immediately, but still decide to bruise the ego in saying "I'm Agent Morgan, and you are?"

The way he looks at me tells me all I need to know, and his eyes are narrowed in disdain as Jarvis says "Agent, this is Brigadier General John McGinnis."

"Ah," I say and extend my hand. "I believe you knew my father, Colonel William Morgan. He was actually in the process of being promoted to Brigadier General before his death at Pearl Harbor."

"I did," he says, but doesn't take my hand and instead looks at Howard. "You brought the damn Russian to do your business?"

"I brought her because she has experience in handling men like you," Howard says proudly and a small smile creeps across my face. "You stole my invention."

"We contracted you to give us something to keep these soldier's awake and you want back on that contract," the General reveals. "So we simply acquired the product that you'd promised us."

"The product was a failure," Howard spits out as much as it must hurt him to make that admission. "I went back on that commission because of the side effects-"

"Ah, so you did know," the General says, and proves Howard's worst fears true. "Tell me Mr Stark, was this some sort of incident or were those effects what you intended all along?"

"Careful now," I warn and the General tilts his head in my direction. "You don't want to press on the wrong nerve."

Howard swallows hard and looks at Jarvis. "Take me to see the battlefield."

Jarvis moves forward but the General raises a hand to keep him in place, telling Howard "That man has been suspended from his post and is pending trial."

Jarvis lowers his eyes and Howard looks between them incredulously. "What for?"

"Treason," the General says and I watch on in interest. "He forged my signature to get his Jewish girlfriend out of the Third Reich. He's scheduled for a court-martial when I send him back to London and she'll be lucky if we don't personally drop her at the Gestapo's door."

I inhale deeply to keep my voice neutral and look at Jarvis. "Did you succeed in getting her out?"

He gives a nod that tells me he has no regret other than being caught. "Yes, I did. As of now she is in London."

"Very good," I say, glad that one of us succeeded in getting a loved one out, and the General grimaces in my direction. "General McGinnis, would you be so kind as to personally escort Mr Stark and I to the battlefield?"

"It would be my pleasure," he says, almost gleefully, and I give Howard a reassuring nod as we're guided to a covered truck and instructed to climb in the back with two other soldiers. Immediately I realise he wants as few witnesses as possible other than what's needed for general protection.

Howard's hesitant upon coming to the same conclusion but follows my lead. He sits by my side and the two soldiers shut the door behind us with their rifles in hand. My fingertips brush the blade hidden inside my sleeve and I keep my head forward as the truck begins moving, a third soldier no doubt at the wheel, although the cabin is separated from the fully enclosed back we're seated within.

Howard's hands are clasped in front of him and he grows more agitated with each bump along the road, meanwhile I'm coming to terms with the fact that I hadn't exactly planned to assassinate an American general while on leave but here we are. Four men is easy work, but getting away with it will be the hard part since dozens of witnesses saw us leave with them.

"So," I begin, looking between the two soldiers and putting on the charms. "You boys wanna tell us what we'll be heading into?"

The men only look at me like a piece of meat, although not without significant repulsion, before one speaks "Dead Russians."

And they sound proud of it.

"Huh," I say, unable to help myself. "I take it that your dashing brigadier general doesn't like Jews or Russians?" The look they exchange tells me enough. "Seems like him and Hitler would get along well."

At that final remark a rifle's aimed at my face and I just laugh before pushing it aside, having assessed thoroughly enough what conditions we're walking into while Howard's truly panicking beneath the careful exterior he presents.

"I thought you boys would know better than to shove things in a woman's face, although I dare say you haven't seen a willing one in a while," I say and the one on the left shifts uncomfortably, a silent admission. "Those poor German women. I'm guessing that your general sweeps that under the rug for you if he doesn't partake himself."

Howard observes anxiously from beside me and their silence tells me all I need to know, and any reservations I had about killing them are long gone. Howard was right, I will enjoy this.

Finally the truck stops and the door opens. The first thing that hits us is the smell and Howard turns a shade paler before he swallows hard and pushes himself off the bench, showing a type of courage I once thought he lacked.

My eyes skim over the soldiers who motion with their rifles for me to follow and I wouldn't put it past the general for him to order us both to be shot dead to cover up whatevers transpired here. Despite what I'd seen from afar and whatever else I'd imagined, the sight before us leaves me speechless.

Remains are scattered across the battlefield. Limbs ripped off and eyes gouged out, flesh torn away with bite marks left where faces had once been. Bloody bayonets and combat knives litter the field, and not one body bears the uniform of a Nazi or an American.

The victims were all Soviet. They did this to one another.

"The gas was kindly deployed to assist the Red Army in taking Finow," the General says while Howard stares in pure horror, shaken to his core. "Thought it better to test it on the Soviets before deploying it on our own troops. Better a dead Russian than a dead American."

I look down to find a piece of torn off flesh by my feet and several feet away lies the mutilated body of a young man, or rather boy, who couldn't have been older than seventeen. Nearby is the body of a woman my own age, no doubt part of one of the rifle regiments, with a bayonet through her throat. My fingers brush the now faint scar across my own and the General watches with a scoff as I bend down to shut her open eyes.

"It's such a shame that we weren't able to get here in time to stop the Germans from doing this to our valued Allied soldiers," the General finally says and my jaw clenches. "Such a tragedy."

"You-" Howard stammers, and I look up from where I'm squatting down to find a look in his eye that I've never seen before. "You did this."

"The Nazis did this," the General counters, already having his cover story formulated. "And I suggest that you repeat that story to the SSR."

"I told you it wasn't-" Howard begins in vain, his voice unrecognisable. "It was never meant to be deployed!"

"You made the stuff," the General says and I look forward at the bodies laying across the field as I debate who to take out first. The grass drenched with Soviet blood. "This blood's on your-" He's cut off by the sound of a collision and my head snaps to see Howard taking a swing at the General.

"Fuck. Howard- Howard!" I yell and try to make my way to him only for one of the soldiers to try to push me back to the ground with the heel of his boot. His leg's swiftly kicked out from under him and I rush forward in time to see Howard get knocked to the ground with a single swing of the General's fist.

At the sound of my pistol being drawn the General raises his hands and looks at Howard who's face down in the soiled grass before looking back at me and spitting at my feet.

"Let me ask you something, Agent Vetrova," he says, more than aware of my background. "If I had my men strip one of those women of their uniforms and put it on your body, do you think it would ever last long enough to be identified by your beloved Captain America?" He takes a step closer, stepping over Howard who's struggling to push himself off the ground. "Or if I said you were shot dead in a Nazi ambush, would Colonel Phillips bother to question it? After all, what's a few more drops of Russian blood? Once Hitler's dead they'll be the next ones to go."

A rifle's pressed into my back from behind and out of the corner of my eye I catch the gleam of a canister, one that hadn't been properly deployed considering the position of the dial, and I smile.

My chin's held high and my finger rests over the trigger. "I've killed many generals in my time, but never an American one."

Before any of the three soldiers can react I've disarmed the man behind me and fired two shots into the heads of the men standing beside the general and taken the disarmed man to use as a shield, shooting him in the back and holding his body in front of mine. He takes the shot the General fires at me and I shoot the pistol out of the General's hand the moment he goes to fire again.

"Communist cunt!" he curses, clutching the hole in his hand and I fire a second shot the moment he goes to bring his boot down on Howard's head in retaliation. The shot to the leg throws him off balance and he stumbles back while I drop the soldier's body and move forward, placing myself between Howard and the General.

"Get in the back of the truck," I order and he refuses to move, and so I fire a third shot some place far more painful that has him doubled over. "Stop whining and move."

He stumbles and I grab him roughly by the collar of his jacket, manoeuvering him into the back of the truck and throwing him face down onto the floor before reaching for the half filled canister. The moment he sees it his eyes widen and he isn't so brave anymore.

"No- no please- I'll resign," he begins pleading and I just shake my head in disappointment.

"Pathetic, you wouldn't last five minutes in a Russian prison," I patronise before throwing the canister in. "With generals like you I would take my time and enjoy it, but your men would have heard those gun shots and I happen to have a sense of poetic justice."

"No- no!" he screams as I fire a shot into the canister and slam the doors shut just as the gas comes flowing out, barring the doors from the outside with a rifle. Cautiously I take a few steps back in case gas begins to leak out and pick a struggling Howard up off the ground.

"Easy now- easy now," I say, finding an already nasty bruise covered with a layer of mud and blood from the ground. "We have maybe twenty minutes until soldiers arrive here and when they do you're going to tell them that we were attacked by a group of Nazis."

He's in a state of shock and likely concussed but he nods, his head turning towards the truck and he clenches his jaw at the muffled screams from within, but he's far from opposed to what I've done.

"Poetic justice huh?" he says and wipes his face on his white sleeve. "Then I should be in there with him."

"Don't do that," I scold and grab his jaw firmly in my hand, my voice deathly serious. "You are not at fault for this. You saw the effects of that gas and ceased production. You refused to hand it over and so that bastard stole it to use it on Allied troops. There is one man at fault for this massacre and it is not you."

"I still-"

"Don't make me blacken the other eye to knock that thought out of your head," I warn and he quickly shuts his mouth at the tough love. Only then do I soften my voice. "It will be alright, just follow my lead."

He nods and there's the sound of trucks in the distance, but not from the direction of camp. Slowly I turn around and my hand falls away from his face at the sight of Soviet trucks.

"Shit," I breathe and there's one final muffled scream from within the truck before everything falls silent. "We have one dead General, and it may yet become two."

"Ada, get out of here and leave me to handle this," Howard says but I stand my ground. "Ada, if they've charged you with treason-"

"It's only three trucks," I try to rationalise. "Although I do wish I brought grenades, or at least my submachine gun."

"Ada, I'm being serious," Howard grits out. "Get the hell out of here."

"And return to that base alone with a dead general in the back of the truck?" I question and shake my head. "No. Let me handle this."

He's cursing under his breath and remarks "I don't know how Barnes and Rogers deal with you."

"I can promise you that they don't know either, but I make it worth it for one of them," I say, suddenly remembering that Bucky has no idea where I am. No one has any idea where we are. "Try to keep your mouth shut and follow my lead."

"You know I've never been good at that," he says, still half doubled over, but I leave him like it considering it will help appearance wise.

The Soviet trucks come to a stop across the field and a highly decorated general exits. Immediately I recognise him and know damn well that he'll recognise me.

"Fuck," I breathe under my breath and Howard looks at me in alarm.

"Who is he?"

"A general that I tortured during the purges," I confess and his eyes widen before he echoes my curse. "It seems he's been released from prison and reinstated."

"So why aren't we running now?"

"Because if we run then that will be enough of an admission of guilt to justify the Red Army slaughtering every American unit on this side of Germany," I say as the political gravity of this situation dawns on us both. "I either de-escalate this or kill them all so there's no living witnesses to bring the news back to Moscow."

"Ada-" Howard begins apologetically and my voice is curt.

"Get in the truck."

He does as I tell him and I brace myself for this day to get even worse.

The General marches towards me with a dozen armed soldiers following, only to stop in his tracks when he recognises my face. He turns his head to speak to his second in command and just like that a dozen rifles are raised in my direction.

"My name is Adelina Viktorovna Vetrova," I tell the General, speaking in Russian to put us on even ground for negotiations. "Hero of the Soviet Union and recipient of the Order of Lenin."

"I need no introduction," he says and his voice waves only slightly as he asks "Do you remember me?"

"General Roskov," I say, knowing that I am dealing with a stubborn but decently tempered man. There are far worse generals that could have attended this incident. "You were always strong of will, the very image of Polish strength in the face of the NKVD's oppression."

Even if he himself is a harbinger of that violence against his own people.

"Careful," he warns, one of the very, very few men who did not break under torture. Although I was not permitted to use my worst techniques in case Stalin ever required him to be able-bodied for service. "I am no stranger to your methods. They did not work the first time, and they will not work now."

"I merely followed the orders of the NKVD," I say, knowing he placed the blame for his arrest on them rather than Stalin. "You know as well as I do the violence they impose upon the innocent."

"But you are far from innocent," he returns, roughly two dozen men standing behind him. "Many would call you a traitor."

"My heart belongs to my homeland and my loyalty to Stalin."

His eyes narrow. "And yet you stand here as an American."

"In Russia they would call me American, and in America they call me Russian," I say, knowing many say the same for him in regard to his Polish birth and it visibly strikes a cord with him. I know this man's mind intimately and I know how to reason with him. "We were both born abroad but we know where our loyalty lies."

He does not comment on that and instead looks at the sight of the battlefield and then to the bodies of American soldiers. "What transpired here?"

"A chemical weapon attack, engineered by Hydra," I say and raise an emptied canister, no better than the General I killed, but the lies flow easily when lives are at risk. "I was sent to escort an American scientist to examine the battlefield."

He nods towards the American bodies. "And them?"

"Their General held a distaste for Russians and attempted to assassinate me," I say and open the back of the truck to display the body, bringing a hand up to shield my face from the remnants of gas that flows out and the men immediately step back to keep their distance. "He had intended to go rogue and acquire the chemical weapon to use against the Red Army in order to break down relations between Moscow and Washington in an act of sabotage, and so I executed him in the name of the Soviet Union."

He examines me carefully before saying "So it is true what I'm told. Beria did it after all." I tilt my head coyly and he continues "They placed one of their operatives in the heart of the Allied spy network."

My heart pounds in my chest and every lingering fear I've held since the encounter with the widow is confirmed, as impossible as it seems.

"I serve Stalin," I affirm. "Now, my scientist took quite the beating and I must escort him back to the United States to determine just what chemicals were deployed to cause such a terrible massacre, and also to tell the American soldiers that their General was killed by rogue Nazi soldiers. Now, would your men be so kind as to remove the General's body from the truck and put it alongside the other Americans?"

He nods his head approvingly, but still looks upon me with caution for reasons I know well as his men go to do what is asked of them. I know that Howard's watching through the review mirrors as the General's mangled body is dumped on the ground, eyes torn out with his own hands and head partially caved from bashing it into the wall of the truck.

"Hydra you say?" the General asks and I nod affirmatively. "We will recover bodies to return to Moscow, otherwise they would not believe what's transpired here." I nod again but before I can leave he grabs me by the wrist and looks me in the eye. "I have done my time in prison for lesser crimes than you've committed, and I can promise you that your day will come."

"It already has, and I dare say it will again," I assure him before pulling my wrist free and returning to the truck. The moment the passenger door shuts I look at Howard and order "It's handled, now drive back to base and we will tell them that the soldiers were killed in a Nazi ambush that the Soviets interrupted. The General will corroborate the story."

He looks straight ahead and starts the truck wordlessly, something utterly uncharacteristic of him, only when we're halfway back does he finally speak.

"I heard what that General said." Silence permeates the space between us and he asks me only once "Is it true? Are you a double agent?"

"No," I say and he's hesitant, but he trusts me. He may not trust my loyalties to any government, but he trusts my loyalties to those I hold close.

"Did you start out as one?"

My lip quivers upon remembering that last day in the Red Room and the assignment I'd received. My ​​silence reveals enough to him, and so I proceed with the truth.

"Infiltrating the SSR was the last assignment I was given by my handlers before I went rogue," I reveal, speaking nothing but the truth even if I'm not wholly truthful. "I tried to kill myself three times in that asylum after I was brought to America because I had no intention of serving any government again, not until Peggy walked into that room and convinced me otherwise. When I performed the national anthem at your expo I whole heartedly believed I was marking myself as a traitor and signing my own death warrant, Doctor Erskine and the rest all knew it. He believed that I'd never be able to go back and told me how exciting it was to not be able to look back, only forward, and I believed it too."

"So then what the hell was that General going on about?"

"I thought I was a traitor to the Soviet Union, that I'd be executed if I ever stepped foot inside Soviet territory again," I tell him, those paranoid fears finally coming to fruition. "But for the past few months I haven't been so certain."

"For the past few months?" he repeats back to me.

"The last night we all spent in Brooklyn I'd been in bed with Bucky in his apartment. I'd woken up to get a glass of water when I looked out across the street and saw one of the women from my academy. A widow," I say numbly and he doesn't react. "She'd been watching, I don't know for how long but it had been long enough. I snuck out of the apartment and went after her. When I caught her she made it clear that she'd been assigned to watch me, and then she started to mock me. She asked if I was naive enough to truly believe that my mother had just let me go to live my life as I had been. If I was naive enough to think she'd ever let Stalin believe I'd betrayed the Soviet Union considering my betrayal would have resulted in her execution as well as my own."wn."

"Your mother lied and told Stalin that you've been following orders?" Howard realises and I force myself to nod, finally admitting it to myself after all this time. "And the spy?"

"I broke her neck and made it look like an accident," I say, cold air filling my longs as I inhale shakily. "She knew about Bucky and god knows what else. I couldn't let that information get back to the Soviet Union."

He's quiet for a moment before saying "You didn't tell him did you?"

"No, I didn't," I say, my nails biting into my palms. "He was all worked up when he woke up and found me gone so I just pretended that I'd gone for a poorly thought out late night walk."

"So why are you telling me?"

"Because you might be the only other person who understands what it's like for lying to be second nature," I say hoarsely, remembering the reason we'd grown close to one another in those early days. "Which is why you might be the only person that will believe me now."

"You're right, I am," he says, setting his jaw and looking over at me with a black eye. "And when we get back to London?"

"We'll say that you invited me to be your last minute escort to examine the battlefield due to the use of chemical weapons," I say, both of us prepared to lie now to protect ourselves considering the man responsible is dead. "The SSR operates separately from the military so they shouldn't have knowledge of your classified contracts. You'll tell them that General McGinnis asked you to attend the scene and identify what chemicals Hydra had deployed and that I'd accompanied you before we were ambushed. They were shot dead and you took a hit before we got inside the truck, and that the arrival of Soviet troops scared the Nazis off as we made our escape. Like you said, we'd be the ones that go down for it regardless of the truth."

"I don't know if that's overly complicated or overly simplified, but it'll have to do," he says and hesitates before asking "And when your fiancé starts asking questions? Phillips might buy it for the sake of his own sanity but Barnes won't buy it so easily."

"I'll handle him," I promise Howard. "It's far from the first time I've lied to protect him. In this line of work deniability is more important than anything else. The less he knows the better."

He nods to himself and asks "Before we go back and lie our asses off to everyone we know, can I ask you one more thing while we're being truthful?"

I could almost laugh, unable to imagine what could be harder to confess than what I already have. "Go ahead."

"You knew who I was when you arrived in America didn't you?" he says, and my heart stops for just a moment. I've always known Howard had his suspicions, but until now neither of us have ever acknowledged it.

"I did."

"I was part of those last orders you were given wasn't I?"

He's a brilliant man, perhaps lacking in genius when it comes to women, but he's far from a fool. He knew the moment we met that I was using him for the same reasons that most women cling to rich or powerful men, protection and security, and he happily accepted it because that's just the way of the world and I gave him a type of companionship in return even if it wasn't sexual.

But now he's seen through the cracks in that facade I'd first put on and put the rest of the pieces together.

"Yes, you were," I finally confess after a year of knowing one another. "That last day in the Red Room my mother put a newspaper on her desk with your face on it before she told me to infiltrate the SSR and gain intelligence by sleeping with you. She was prostituting me out and told me I should have been grateful it was to you rather than to a man that would brutalise me."

He inhales deeply and asks "That was the reason why you could never give me a chance wasn't it? You could never think about sleeping with me without remembering that could you?"

"Yes, you're correct," I answer honestly. "That was the reason."

And despite everything we've seen today, despite everything that's still ahead of us, he asks "If we met under different circumstances, if you hadn't been given those orders, would it have changed anything?"

My heart aches for him, because in truth I don't know what the answer is or what could have transpired, but I do know that my heart would have never belonged to him. "I can't say, but even if it had... I don't think there's a world where I wouldn't have fallen in love with Bucky regardless."

As much as those words wound him he nods and says "Thank you, for not letting me come here alone."

"I've got your back Howard, no matter what," I promise him as we come to a stop by the main camp. "Now it's time to put on a show."

Immediately I throw open the door of the truck and stumble out into the camp, gasping as if I'm out of breath and looking appropriately distraught as Mr Jarvis comes to meet me. "Oh god, Mr Jarvis-"

"What is it?" he asks in immediate concern, soldiers gathering around. "What's happened-"

"We were attacked, the Germans-" I rasp, clutching my ribs as if I'm winded and wounded. "They shot the others and assaulted Mr Stark, we barely got to cover before the Russians came and scared them off-"

"Oh god," he breathes and calls out for help, quickly repeating my story and immediately men rush to their trucks to attend to the scene of the crime. "Are you alright ma'am, are you injured?"

"I'm alright, but Mr Stark's took quite the blow to the head," I say, looking to see Howard making his way out of the truck and clutching himself in genuine pain. "I best get him back to London-"

"Are you sure he's alright to fly in such a condition?" Jarvis asks in genuine concern.

"I have decent enough aviation training to see us back to London," I assure him as Howard comes to my side. "The airfield was only several miles south of here, yes?"

"Indeed," he confirms and Howard puts a hand on his shoulder.

"If they try to court martial you when you get back to London give me a call," he says to the rather stunned man. "And I'll speak to my lawyers, see what we can work out for your lady as well."

"I- thank you Mr Stark," Jarvis stammers and quickly I take Howard by the arm to whisk him away before more questions can be asked.

"I'll take a look at you once we get to the plane," I tell Howard, knowing how desperate he must be to get out of those soiled clothes and to wash the blood from his face. "Get you cleaned up before we land in London."

We commandeer a jeep in the chaos and begin making our journey south to the airfield with him in the passenger seat this time. Leaving that mess behind us even though there will almost certainly be questions when we return, although if we manage to slip back into London without our names being linked to this then we could just avoid it all together.

But the moment everything is quiet Howard's thought's have been felt louder.

"Do you remember the conversation we had before Steve was given the serum?" he asks me and immediately I know what he's referring to, and it pains me.

"When you told me that if there's two people in the SSR who know anything about destruction that it's you and me."

He nods, holding the side of his face. "I thought I'd be doing something good. I thought this invention would help soldiers but I- I'm meant to be a genius and even I have no idea how the hell this went so wrong. If this has been deployed over a unit like the 107th-"

"Don't do that, don't torture yourself," I say but there's no words that can erase how distraught he is, that can make him forget what he's seen. "You did your job and when you realised that the invention failed you backed out of the contract with McGinnis. You did everything right, but- sometimes doing everything right just isn't enough when the world's against you."

He's silent for a moment before saying "The military's offered me a seven figure contract to continue working for them once the war's done..." he shakes his head in pure disgust. "I'm turning it down. After the war I'm done."

I look over at Howard in surprise and I can't recall ever being so proud of another person. "You're a good man, Howard."

He makes a sound that's halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I'm not, but I want to be."

I reach over to take his hand in mine in silent comfort, in unity. "Perhaps we can both become better."

"The millionaire inventor and the marxist assassin trying to become all moral?" he says, and this time manages a genuine laugh. "Maybe by the time this is all over we can both say that we've done something good."

"Maybe we can," I agree and look back at the dirt road, watching the treeline. "But first we need to lie our asses off and wipe our hands of this."

He nods in agreement but the moment we approach a crossroads there's a flash of movement and the tires are shot out from beneath us with silenced bullets as trucks come straight at us from both sides. My foot slams down on the gas and we just avoid being crushed between the two trucks, but still they clip the back of the jeep and send us spirally off the side of the road and straight into a tree.

The force impact sends my head straight down into the steering wheel in my attempt to brace myself and my ears ring as I raise it to find Howard thrown from his seat through the glass of the windscreen.

"Fuck, Howard-" I curse and immediately push myself forward to help him only to find him fully unconscious and bleeding. "Fuck!"

At the sound of approaching footsteps I'm pulling my pistols free and stumbling out only to be met with bullet fire. Quickly I throw myself over the hood to take cover, looking back to find the trucks unmarked but my stomach drops at the uniforms I'd recognise anywhere.

No.

I'm shaking now as I reload and hear a Russian voice call my name.

"Adelina Viktorovna Vetrova," Colonel Fyodor says. "Lower your weapons and surrender yourself into the custody of Leviathan."

I have thirty five bullets currently on me, twenty of which are currently loaded, and with perfect aim and a perfect strategy I could just pull this off. On the other hand I can feel the lump forming on my head and my ribs are certainly back to the state they were in when I left Germany only a mere week or so ago. I have no grenades, no explosives, nothing that could take out groups of them at a time in order to divide them and pick them off.

And I have Howard in that jeep who may just be dead.

A shaky exhale leaves my throat and I turn to make my way around the other side of the jeep, to open fire and run for cover, only to feel the tip of a blade pressed to the artery in my neck and I'm face to face with a girl that's too familiar.

"Doreteya," I warn, but there's an almost sadistic gleam in her eye. She was always the best of her class after all. Perhaps the only girl in that academy I was ever truly wary of despite the three years between us. She would have to be eighteen by now and a graduate, the only one that could have ever taken my place as their prodigy. Blonde and blue eyed and utterly deadly. "Put the knife down."

"Hello Adeline," she says in a too perfect American accent. "It's been a while."

But the smile fades from her face when she feels my pistol against her stomach and I lock eyes with her just as I fire. She doubles over and the knife nicks my neck as I push her out of my way only to be grabbed from behind at the same moment she buries that blade in my thigh, twisting it and cutting straight through the artery.

I'm gasping out as I grab her wrist to stop her from pulling the blade free only to feel a syringe being injected into my neck just as she twists the knife out and blood spurts from the wound. Her grip's tight as she lowers me to the ground from behind, the almost deadly dosage of the paralytic agent immediately taking over. Her face appears over mine and she rests my head in her lap, a sickly sweet smile on her face despite the blood we're both losing.

"Night, night," she says and blows a mocking kiss as my vision turns dark.

A/N: This one is for the Agent Carter fans, but if you haven't seen the show no worries because everything will be explained in-chapter. 

The Marvel wiki lists Dottie as being born in 1927, but this is just a guess based on how old she approximately appears in the Agent Carter flashback. In my opinion she looks to be about twelve rather than the assumed ten and so I'm putting her as being born in 1925, making her three years younger than Ada since there is no way in hell you can convince me she's only 18/19 during the first season of Agent Carter. I've chosen Doreteya as her birth name since it is the closest Russian variant of Dottie that I could find. 

Also updates will be slow until the end of September as I'm working on the final assessments for my bachelors degree.