Rebecca stood there at the airport among the others. Wives, children, parents of soldiers waiting for their loved ones or the news everyone there dreaded. Her eyes desperately scanned the fleets of dirty soldiers, looking for the one she'd been missing.

She'd been picturing how to welcome him home. She wanted to be brave and strong and cool about it but she knew she would cry and fall into his arms and both thoughts made her smile. She didn't care what happened when he got there she just wanted him to show up there with his sad blue eyes and his soft eyes and warm hug and smooth voice so he could be hers again. She just wanted him back. She swore on her life she'd never let him go again.

She stood there the entire three hours that it took for all the soldiers to find their families. No one came to her. No Steve, no Bucky, no man with a letter explaining how they both died. Nothing. She didn't have Steve and she didn't have any closure. She had absolutely nothing. Becky thought that was worse than getting the letter.

Nothing in a city full of dark corners and dangerous people. Nothing. No one.

So she went home, walking slowly in a daze while couples danced happily around her. She'd never noticed how in love other people could be until she didn't have Steve. She wasn't hungry so she didn't eat. She drank water and pet Ducky, their dog, until he started snoring on the couch so she went to their room and cried. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep but every time she dozed off, she dreamed of Steve and Buck, laughing together. So she woke herself up and cried some more. She had almost cried herself back to sleep when she heard the racket in the kitchen.

Immediately, her mind began to rush.

Had one of those punks followed her home? Was someone breaking in? Or was Ducky just snooping around in the kitchen? Maybe he just knocked something off. Of course he had. Silly dog.

Keys dropping on the kitchen table and the living room light flicking on silenced her mind. She grabbed the baseball bat Steve kept under their bed and shakily pulled on her robe. She tip-toed down the hall, holding up the bat, though she could never hurt anyone with it. Especially not the huge figure standing in her living room. The man stood with his back to her, near the table all her pictures were displayed on. He was well over six feet tall and massive. The man shifted and sat down a picture frame and Beck ducked behind corner, cursing in her head when Ducky trotted over and sat at her feet, whining for food.