𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃'𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃. Correction, it hadn't been clear all night. However, his sight had grown increasingly worse as he stumbled over the threshold of the building where Steve had originally enlisted the Howling Commandos, a nickname created by Juniper after Dugan's first iconic "wahoo."

As he looked around at the rubble of what remained, the somber tone of the broken radio static only added to his own despair. It was genuinely a miracle that he managed to find the bar counter without collapsing more than once.

He slammed his hands against the wood in an attempt to steady himself, but continued to slip and lose his balance. He quickly caught himself by the elbow and propped his face onto his hand while holding up an empty bottle in his other.

He squinted to try and decipher the form in front of him, and recognizing it as human, his voice slurred as he made his request. "Need a glass 'f somethin' strong."

Steve firmly shook his head. "By the looks of it, you've had more than enough."

David frowned and straightened at the sound of Steve's voice. He pulled himself up over the table and once he determined which of Steve's three forms was real, he grabbed him by the collar of his uniform. Although he made an effort to yank Steve closer, the opposite resulted as David pulled himself across the table.

Inches away from Steve's face, David seethed. "You could have saved him. You should've let me go."

Steve gently took David's hands and lowered them from his shirt. "Bucky wouldn't have allowed it—"

"To hell with what Bucky wanted!" David suddenly screamed, tears brimming at his already bloodshot eyes. "He would've been alive! Becky's been through enough... first our parents, now this—"

"There wasn't anything else we could've done," Steve insisted. "No matter how much we want it to, nothing could change what happened."

David fervently shook his head, despondently waving a finger in the air. His strong refusal was evident on his face as his lips twisted into a tight frown. "It should have been me! No one would notice if Lil' Davie Barnes was gone."

His voice cracked and he faded off before he could enter a fit that would ultimately only hurt himself. Although drunk out of his own mind, Steve continued to look at the younger boy with sympathy. They were just a pair of scared little kids from Brooklyn. The only major difference being that David was only nineteen years of age and had faced more trauma than anyone should for being so young.

Steve didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled David close and held him tight. David tried to fight the gesture at first, but unable to move or lash out in a fit of rage, he broke down in sobs. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath, an echo of the ache tearing his heart in two.

Steve's voice was quiet but comforting as he spoke at a volume meant just for the boy who was practically his younger brother. "No one's forgotten you, David. You've got your family... it might be a bit different than before, but you've got us 'til the end of the line. But we're also not going to let Bucky die in vain."

He took a step back, placing a small gap of space between them before tapping David's chest, where his heart would be, and his heart, to represent his mind.

"We'll always hold a piece of him in our memories and heart," Steve explained with a soft smile.

David slowly nodded his head as his exhaustion settled. Steve slung one of his arms over his shoulder and guided him back out to the vehicle that waited to return to the main base.

He didn't say anything, but David genuinely appreciated that Steve hadn't carried him out the door like a child. Once cleaned up and a touch more sober than before, the pair regroup with the Commandos and their superior officers that were in the midst of preparing a plan to take down the Skull within his headquarters once and for all.

"Johann Schmidt belongs in a bug house. He thinks he's a God," Phillips said as he turned away from the map on the wall to face the team. "He's willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA."

"Schmidt's working with powers beyond our capabilities," Stark added and took a seat beside Falsworth. "He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire eastern seaboard in an hour."

"How much time we got?" Jones asked.

"According to my new best friend," Phillips replied, "under twenty four hours."

"Where is he now?" Dernier asked.

"Hydra's last base is here." Phillips held up a photo and pointed to the base before tossing it onto the table. "In the Alps. Five hundred feet below the surface."

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Morita asked as he picked up the photo, "I mean, it's not like we can just knock on the front door."

"Why not?" Steve asked and everyone turned to look at him as if he were insane. "That's exactly what we're gonna do."

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"I severely regret registering for this damn war," David muttered under his breath as he looked over the side of the cliff.

"Getting cold feet, Skippy?" Juniper laughed as he hooked up his gear in preparation for the next stage of the plan.

"No," David lied, cautiously looking over the side once more; however, the pitch of his voice betrayed his disconcertion.

"We'll be in and out, no problem," Juniper attempted to console him. "We've done this sorta thing half-a-million times already. What's one more nazi base compared to the list of others, eh?"

"That's a gas," Dugan chuckled and shook his head. "This here is the grandstand and you think it'll be a walk in the park."

"I hate to agree with Dum Dum here," Rambeau sighed, "but he's right. We're not off the hook just yet."

"Um, fellas," Falsworth called for their attention. "I don't suppose that was the signal, was it?"

The others turned their heads to where a flash of red, white, and blue could be seen on the other side of the window built into the mountainside.

Jones nodded his head in agreement. "If that's not it, I don't know what is."

"Time to break out the ol' Ramrod." Dugan grinned deviously and smacked Rambeau on the back, forgetting about the lethal plunge that would occur should they lose their balance. Rambeau shot him a look, but wasn't given the opportunity to reprimand his fellow soldier's irresponsible behavior.

"Tally Ho!" Falsworth called out as he led the charge, jumping off the side of the cliff and completely relying on the grapple gear. The others quickly followed his example.

It was only a matter of seconds before the six Commandos crashed through the windows of the weapons lab and jumped into action, taking out the guards around the room.

"Rogers!" Falsworth shouted and tossed Steve his shield. "You might need this!"

"Thanks!" Steve replied and turned to chase after Schmidt down the hall.

The Commandos ensured that they'd claimed their section of the base before proceeding onward. With the arrival of more Allied forces, it didn't take long for the HYDRA base to fall into chaos.

Morita's voice over the comms only solidified the success of their backup teams. "We're in! Assault team, go!"

In the years to come, the fight would be the last thing on David's mind... instead, it would be the events that followed ingrained permanently into his mind no matter how hard he'd try to forget.

After the Howling Commandos had regrouped, their victory celebration was short-lived as the speakers within the communications center echoed around the hangar.

"Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

Morita quickly moved to the radio and messed with a few controls before they could lose the signal. "Captain Rogers, what is your—"

Peggy quickly took over and interrupted him, "Steve, is that you? Are you alright?"

"Peggy!" Steve sounded relieved. "Schmidt's dead."

"What about the plane?" she asked.

"That's a little bit tougher to explain," Steve hesitantly replied almost as if prolonging some bad news..

"Give me your coordinates," Peggy instructed, turning toward the maps and flight manuals covering the desk, "I'll find you a safe landing site."

"There's not going to be a safe landing," Steve explained, "But I can try and force it down."

David frowned and moved closer, pushing Morita's rolling chair further away as he tried to join the conversation. "Steve, don't be an idiot."

"I'll get Howard on the line, he'll know what to do," Peggy added, desperate to keep the soldier talking so he didn't do anything rash.

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York." Steve then gravely referred to the plane with the exact words that all of them knew were coming, but none of them wanted to hear, "I gotta put her in the water."

"Please, don't do this. We have time," Peggy insisted, "We can work it out."

David froze. Chills ran down his spine as his own words echoed around his mind, haunting him in the moment. He blinked and desperately tried to reason with Steve as if apologizing, "Steve if this is guilt over what happened to Bucky, it's not your fault—"

Steve interrupted him. "David, Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are gonna die. Peggy, this is my choice."

David and Peggy both fell into a stunned silence. It wasn't that the decision was uncharacteristic, but neither of them were ready for what was to come, but each realized how necessary it was.

Steve only allowed the silence to linger a second longer before checking to see that they were still there. "Peggy?"

"I'm here," she replied with a nod even though it would remain unseen.

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."

Her eyes glistened and her voice cracked as she attempted to compromise with the Captain, knowing it would be meaningless. "Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

"You got it," he agreed.

"Eight o'clock on the dot," she added, her voice trembling, "Don't you dare be late. Understood?"

"You know, I still don't know how to dance."

"I'll show you how," she replied and her voice strained as she added, "Just be there."

"We'll have the band play somethin' slow. I'd hate to step on your—" The line turned to static.

Peggy began to cry as she tried to get him to respond, her voice growing more distressed each time she said his name. "Steve? Steve? Steve?"

David's blood ran ice cold. He didn't notice at first, but as he looked down toward the ground, he shook uncontrollably. His legs dropped out from underneath him, but he felt no physical pain. His body remained numb as he sat on his knees. However, the ache in his chest grew ten-fold. This wasn't supposed to be how it ended. He should've known that through everything he'd already seen all those stories told to children were lies: there were no happy endings for heroes.

His breathing grew shallow and quick as vivid images flashed before his eyes, blocking out the real world with terrors of the past.

Hearty laughs and the clanking of a few beer glasses. He visibly flinched as the tone of the images changed. A whistle of an explosive. Fire. Snow. He could feel the wind blowing hair into his eyes to block out the view of the icy waters below. It was like a collage of images all mashed together in one horrific figure that vaguely reminded him of his brother. But as soon as they'd come, the images were gone and his vision was darker than the black of night. Now, only his ears accepted the phantom visions in the form of memorized sounds. Men jeering. Christmas carols. Bucky screaming. Radio static.

His throat felt as if it were swelling closed, like an allergic reaction to the pain of his memories; however, a hand was placed on his shoulder that grounded him back in the present. David slowly opened his tear-streaked eyes, but instinct took over along with panic as his head whirled around, waiting for an attack to come in any direction.

He couldn't remember much after the control tower aside from the lingering pain, but he currently sat in a covered truck, driving down a snow-covered road.

He was about ready to fight his way to freedom until the grip on his shoulder grew stronger. His eyes trailed the fingers back to the hand which they belonged, all the way to the source of the arm and finally to the concerned expression of Rambeau.

David swallowed, but he felt stuck, probably due to the lump that had formed at the back of his dry throat.

Rambeau didn't say anything. Instead, he simply moved his hand further around the boy's shoulders and pulled him closer. David continued to shake, but less than before when supported in the arms of someone so grounded in reality. And since Rambeau served as an anchor, that meant David could return to the void without fear of losing himself.

The world was a blur until they reached his neighborhood. He didn't know how much time had passed nor how far they had traveled, but he understood that his eyes had glazed over for some time since they'd made it home from overseas. But was it really home anymore?

The second David walked up the stairs to the doorstep of the house, he didn't even have to knock. Rebecca flung the door open on its hinges and pulled him close. He broke down once more, clutching the folds of her dress in his hands as he tried to ground himself. He only opened his eyes once, but it was long enough to see that Lorene and Charlotte had approached. The confusion on their faces was understandable as they weren't due to be home for several more months... the war was still raging after all. However, Phillips had seen the damage firsthand that the Commandos had taken and realized that they were only men. Men needed time to mourn, a luxury they couldn't afford to spend on more than just a few days.

They'd be back on the front within the week, and then he might have a fresh fire in his spirit. But that burning desire for revenge had been extinguished. He was broken and Phillips recognized that if the boy wasn't separated from the war, then it would destroy him. Normally no other soldier would have been given such consideration, but being considered family to Captain America earned him the right. There wasn't much the Colonel could do for the fallen soldier, but he could make sure his family was taken care of in this time of grief.

"Where's Steve?"

David barely heard the muffled question, but his chest heaved and shuddered as he could feel Lorene's hopes falling with every passing second of silence.

Dugan finally stepped forward, cautiously removing his hat as he respectively asked permission to enter. "May we come in?"

Lorene might not have understood, but Charlotte was more adept at reading the posture of the group. A gentle nod of her head led the men inside which only kindled the fuel of grief to come in future days. With the knowledge that America's icon of hope had vanished, it seemed the curse of loss would only continue to grow.