Bucky

We don't leave the apartment for three days.

Three days of pure bliss until the fourth morning, when I wake half delirious in a cold sweat with burning veins and shocks in my brain. My eyes are pressed shut, wincing and trying to bite back the sounds of pain even as I feel her cautious hands trying to bring me back.

"James? James you're safe," I hear her telling me in the same tone I'd woken to in that cell. "I need you to open your eyes." Still the shocks persist and I'm grunting through the pain. "James-"

I feel her hand around my clenched fist and it's when I instinctually try to shake her off, to break out of any restraints, that she pulls me roughly out of bed and there's cold tiles beneath my feet. I'm gasping out as cold water hits me, forcing me to open my eyes and see my cold breath in front of me, hearing my panting breath and the run of the water.

My head falls against the cold wall and she's quiet beside me, standing on the tiled floor beside the tub of the shower. She doesn't move to touch me, not when I might push her away, but waits until I reach for her hand and she squeezes it tight.

"You're safe," she repeats again and I nod, my chest tight as if I've come down again with pneumonia. "Come on, sit down."

I do as she says, sitting down in the tub and letting the water fall down onto my face. She reaches for a washcloth and begins wiping down my neck and my back until I'm able to take it from her and do it myself. She stays with me, her fingers running soothing circles along my back as I clean the sweat from my body until finally I turn my head to see her with my robe wrapped around her body, her face fixed in concern.

"I'm fi-" I begin but she raises her eyebrows and I don't finish the sentence, instead shutting my quivering mouth and lowering my head. She reaches for the tap, slowly warming the water for me before coming back and cupping my face. "Lina..."

I'm leaning into her touch and she strokes my cheekbone, letting me sit there for what could be a few moments or a few minutes until I reach to turn the tap off and she dries my hair before passing me the towel. Despite being naked for the better part of the past few days she still averts her eyes to give me some privacy as I stand and dry myself, as easily reverting back to her role as a nurse as I have a patient.

When I wrap the towel around my waist she takes her hand to help me out, finding a slight stumble in my step. She holds me arm and brings me back into the bedroom, sitting me on the edge of the bed and asking matter of fact questions.

"Do you still feel the shocks?"

"I- a little," I manage to say. "Just like zaps, but- but not what it was."

She nods and places a hand on my forehead before moving her fingers down to my neck to check my pulse, leaving them there for a while before withdrawing them and again cupping my face.

"Is this the first time this has happened since you've come back?"

Weakly I shake my head and she nods, having expected that answer. She kisses my forehead before she gets a pair of trousers and a singlet out of the drawer and sets them beside me. She goes to give me privacy but I put a hand on her waist to keep her here and she steps between my legs, letting my head rest on her shoulder just as she did back in Italy.

She cups the back of my head and I breathe her in with my eyes pressed shut, as if I could pretend that nothing exists outside of her. I don't expect the sob that catches in my throat when I exhale and she pulls me in tighter, my tears spilling out onto her shoulder.

"I-" I rasp, unable to find the words to even comprehend my own body let alone my mind.

"I know," she says softly, a pained edge to her voice. "I understand and I love you."

And I know that she does.

Which is why I don't try to force the words out, if words even exist to explain this. Instead I just bury my head in her shoulder and shut my eyes, unable to imagine a safer place than in her arms. She runs her fingers along the back of my scalp with her lips pressed to the top of my head, softly caressing me.

She holds me until a shiver eventually runs through my body, reminding me that I'm naked with the exception of the towel around my waist and it's the middle of winter.

"Get dressed and come sit with me, I'll get you a glass of water," she says before moving to hold my hand, feeling the shake in it. "Would you like help?"

I shake my head and she accepts that, kissing my forehead again before leaving the room to give me the dignity of dressing myself and I'm grateful for it when my legs sway beneath me. Slowly I managed to get dressed, my mouth dry by the time I step out and find her waiting for me with a cup of water in hand. She pats the spot beside her at the kitchen table and pulls the chair out for me to sit down with her.

"Thank you," I say and she conceals her worry as I swig down the glass and she gets up wordlessly to refill it. My breathing's still unsteady as she sits back down with me, taking my hand in her own and gently stroking the side of it with her thumb.

"It's- bits and pieces are coming back," I tell her shakily and she listens intently. "They- Zola- he had this device. Almost like a clamp that he put onto my head and the shocks-"

"I know," she says softly so I don't have to remember it and I nod weakly, wincing as those sparks jolt my brain even now. "What you're experiencing are after aftershocks. Sometimes they last a few hours after torture, sometimes they can still occur months afterwards. Your pulse was unsteady, but it seems to be easing now. Do you have any other pain?"

"I-" I begin, still feeling a burning in my veins, but something compels me to shake my head. "Just a pounding head."

She doesn't quite believe me, but she still nods and continues on "That type of torture scrambles the brain in ways that are difficult to put to words. I'd expected that you'd suffer memory loss as a result, although thankfully it seems to have been short term."

I manage a short laugh. "Thankfully?"

Her face is serious and I press my mouth shut.

"As these memories return your brain will be actively reliving them and it can't properly differentiate between memories and reality when it's in such a vulnerable state," she tries to explain. "There's no way around that, but in time the emotional and physiological impact on your body should lessen once your brain learns that you aren't under threat."

She speaks matter of factly, her voice almost devoid of emotion. The only sign of any distress is the fidgeting of her fingers in her lap. If I was a bit more composed I wouldn't say anything, but I can't help myself from exclaiming "How- how can you talk about it and not even blink an eye?"

"Because I was trained to not react to pain," she answers and I search her eyes, but find little behind them except for concern, although there's not one lick of it for herself. "I've discovered recently that only happy things bring me to tears... pain is more familiar to me and less deserving of a reaction."

My brows draw together and she manages a smile, but there's a pit in my stomach as I say "I still don't understand."

"And I pray that you never do," she says softly and I lower my eyes until she brings a gentle hand up beneath my chin to make me look her in the eye. "My reaction to Zola's experimentation is abnormal, and you can't compare yours with mine. Especially not when mine happened so long ago."

All my life I'd believed what most men do, that women are the weaker sex. It just made sense when it came to physical strength and the work we do. I never scoffed at the fact that women are smart and should be taken seriously, working in offices or studying in universities, but I never could've imagined women serving in any sort of combat role. Although it seems now that I was the most mistaken when it came to believing that women were more emotional, weaker in their stomachs.

That all changed when I met Ada. She's anything but weak and I'd mistake her for having balls of steel if not for having seen her without that robe. She's stronger than any man I've ever known, or at least stronger than I am. I spent weeks in capacity while she was in and out of those cells for years... yet she's the one with the stiff lip comforting me when it should be the other way around.

"Still," I say and she shakes her head, lightly chiding me. At some point she slipped into her natural accent and hasn't gone back, a mixture of American and Russian pronunciations, and I haven't so much as been able to think about arguing against anything she says with that voice.

"No, not still," she says and I inhale deeply. "From childhood I was desensitised to torture and any other form of abuse. They spent a lifetime rewiring my brain, which is something Zola wasn't able to do to you." She reaches out, her fingers gently touching my forehead as she brushes my hair back. "You were worn down by physical labour, illness and fatigue before you were subjected to torture. That exhaustion is a method of torture on its own and far more effective than a singular beating."

She speaks from experience and I'm reminded that I don't know the details of what was done to her in Russia. As far as I know our torture under Zola was similar, but she was imprisoned by the Soviet's after Pearl Harbor and it makes my skin crawl to think of what they did to have her in such a state that she took her sister and escaped in the dead of night into the middle of a war zone just to protect her from it.

"They break your spirit before they break your body and your mind," she continues, only now seeming to falter in her composure. "And you have no idea how proud you should be of yourself for walking away with those things intact. Damaged perhaps, but not utterly broken as so many are by that experience. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for James, if you weren't you'd be dead."

My body eases and I reach out to cup her face, looking into those warm eyes and finding peace in them, as well as a sheer force of will that won't let me get away with any of my crap. I love her, but god knows she has a way of telling me the last thing I want to hear exactly when I need to hear it. Which is why she's different to anyone I've been with before.

They tell us growing up that marriage is about finding a life partner, and I never understood what that meant until her. She is my partner. She challenges me and sometimes makes me look at things from an angle I don't necessarily like, but she's there to make sure I have a safe landing when I fall down before pulling me back to my feet.

She's stubborn and strong willed and I adore her for it, but I know that I'm not the only one harbouring something I don't want anyone else to see.

"You are too," I say and she shakes her head sadly, that resolve finally wavering.

She's always been honest since we reunited in Italy, up front with little skirting around details, but she's rarely been vulnerable when talking about her past. She's always had her defences up, only ever slipping when we talk about a future together. She's right when she says that it's happy things that move her to tears, because the past usually leaves her cold to the touch, spoken like she's reading from a report rather than recalling something she's lived through. Examining it from an almost scientific lens.

"Except I was broken by it, Buck," she says quietly with a defeated sigh. "Terribly so. They broke my mind and remade it again and again until I became precisely what they wanted me to be. I had my moments of defiance but what wounded creature doesn't lash out when provoked? No matter how well trained. It- it took a very long time and the careful support of Doctor Erskine and Peggy to bring me to where I am now. To the person you know now."

I lean forward to kiss her forehead, holding her face in my hand and searching her tired eyes. I might have been delirious when she found me but in the past few weeks I've begun to recall fists being slammed into a door and a thick Russian accent screaming out just prior to her coming into the room and I wonder if that composed face she wears isn't what it seems.

She sees me for what I am, a soldier putting on a brave face just the rest of the men out there, meanwhile I still struggle to reconcile the things I've heard with the woman sitting in front of me. Even after seeing her in action she's still a soldier in my eyes, not whatever Phillips was making her out to be.

I don't push her, but there's still questions on the tip of my tongue.

"Can I ask you something?" I begin and she nods without hesitation. "When you say that you were trained not to react, that your body doesn't react to things as it should... did that only happen after the serum? I remember the things you said in that meeting about your training, but I'm just trying to work out there the serum fits into that."

I look at her now, praying that she doesn't realise why I'm asking this. Was she trained to brush that type of pain off, to walk off those wounds, or did the serum make those bruises heal faster and keep her going when she should have been on her knees? Did this almost incomprehensible resilience only come about after Zola was done with her? Is all of what's happened since she rescued me a coincidence, is it in my head or did that burning in my veins mean something?

My hand comes up to brush the almost faded mark on my neck that's faded almost as quickly as her own have, the same as the cut on my cheek she'd remarked upon after we returned to London, but if she suspects anything she doesn't let on.

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks down at her wrist, at the scar that circles it like a bracelet and instead poses a question to me "You know... you never told me what you thought of what you overheard at that meeting. We talked about what it meant when it came to children but... not the rest."

I look at her now, realising that this is something she's been afraid to ask since that night and I tell her the truth. "None of that matters to me. We're both soldiers that have followed orders, some that didn't make us sleep so well at night, but like you said, you've come a hell of a long way since then."

Her body eases and her face softens, she squeezes my hand and hesitates for just a moment. "As for your question... the serum helped with the physical part of it, but before then it was all psychological. If I screamed or cried or even flinched they'd just hurt me more, so I learned to make my mind go blank." Just as I open my mouth she changes the subject. "I'd be worried if your body didn't react to what's been done to it. I find that a shock to your body's nervous system works wonders. Cold water slows your heart rate and the sudden physiological response causes your body to reboot somewhat. To self regulate."

I hadn't realised there was any science behind what she did until now, although I didn't have much argument to the abrupt awakening considering it worked. "Is that what you do?"

"Usually I reach for a cigarette," she admits. "Doctor Erskine had told me that my enhancements mean that I shouldn't feel the effects of tobacco, at least not in regular amounts, and therefore that I shouldn't have any sort of addiction to them. The same principle would apply to alcohol. It's a psychological reliance rather than a physiological one, but it's worked well enough for as long as I can remember."

I nod slowly and ask "When did you start?"

Again she bites the inside of her cheek. "Seven."

"Seven?" I repeat back, choking slightly on the water I'd picked up to drink.

"I had a terrible mother," she dismisses and hesitates before saying "She used to burn me with cigarettes, either on my collarbone or my knee or wherever else there wasn't much but skin and bone. If I flinched she'd smack me across the face or grab a belt so I learned very quickly not to react. Eventually it- it felt soothing."

"Soothing?" I repeat incredulously, unable to mask my horror at both what was done to her and her lack of a reaction towards it.

"It sounds strange but the pain became a crutch. So eventually I began doing it to myself when I became emotional. The shock of the burn would snap me back into whatever state I needed to be in." My lips part and I truly don't know what to say. "Don't worry, I don't do that anymore. Peggy caught me doing it once and only once and slapped that cigarette straight out of my hand. I've been a little too terrified of her scoldings to do it again."

Somehow I don't quite believe her and I take her hand, kissing it gently despite how she tries to brush off my concern. "Lina..."

"When a person tries to deal with these things alone they end up harming themselves in order to cope, whether it be with cigarettes, alcohol, or worse," she continues and holds my hand a little tighter. "Don't apologise for any of this, but please promise me that you won't turn to alcohol or anything else like that to cope as so many soldiers do."

I just shake my head, feeling a lump in my throat. "It doesn't seem to do much for me these days anyways."

She nods and leans forward to kiss my cheek and yet I still can't help but feel some level of shame wash over me that she's the one comforting me, that she's seeing me like this when I'm the one that should have the stiff lip, not her.

"But is that something you're worried about?" I ask, suddenly recalling how stiff she was when she chased me down after Howard had tried to kiss her and I'd had a glass in hand. "Drinking?"

"My mother was a bad drunk, it- I don't mind drinking but anger and alcohol don't mix well," she says a little hoarsely before deflecting. "So, let's see about coffee then."

I raise my eyebrows in slight worry as she gets up to head to the stove but don't let her go that easily. "Lina..."

She looks at me in reluctance as I tug her hand back, and despite being quite happy to call me out on my own deflections she's less content when being called out on her own and she knows it. She doesn't sit back down but she leans with her hip against the table, her hand remaining in mine.

"Peggy says that I anticipate the worst as a precaution... it's something I'm still unlearning," she says with a slight laugh. "The other day her and I had an argument and she sure made that observation sting."

"What were you two arguing about?" I ask in slight bewilderment considering how close they are and she freezes up slightly.

"Just an ethical conflict over how to deal with that Nazi officer we captured," she dismisses and runs her thumb along the side of my hand. "You're asking a lot of questions this morning, Buck."

"I've got you all worried about me, it's only fair I return the favour," I say and she exhales through her nose. "Plus I woke you up early."

"James," she sighs and shakes her head at me with an exasperated fondness that I want to become used to. "The last thing in this entire world I care about right now is you waking me up early."

"I could name a few things you care less about," I say and she tilts her head in slight annoyance but I only see a challenge to double it. "Like baseball, or the government, or the wellbeing of a certain colonel."

"Shh," she hushes with a slight laugh and I hold her by the waist. "I shoot a man once and nobody ever lets me live it down. But, as of present it would be more accurate to say that I care less about the wellbeing of a certain senator to be exact."

And I know I'm going to earn myself a bit of trouble, but still I joke "So what I'm hearing is that you've got a hit list?"

She slaps my shoulder half playfully as she exclaims "James!"

"Am I wrong though?" I ask and she purses her mouth with more mischief than guilt in her eyes, her lips curling into the slightest smile. "See, I know you too well."

She doesn't deny it. "Has anybody ever told you that you have quite the unique sense of humour."

"Is that your polite way of calling me a smartass?"

"Yes."

I just smile and tug her forward until she's straddling my lap. "And you love me anyway."

Her face softens. "I do love you."

She leans in to kiss me and I meet her lips gladly, suddenly hyperaware that she's naked beneath the robe she wears, but somehow the need to take it off isn't my first priority. "Sweetheart."

"Yes darling?"

And I know that I'm exposing myself in my next words, but I'm not ready to let go of her yet. "Can I hold you?"

She smiles softly and brings a hand up to hold my face. "Always."

Her hand slips around to cup the back of my head as she brings me into her arms and she's the one holding me, but I don't mind as much as I should as I let my head fall into the crook of her neck.

Her lips brush the top of my head and she murmurs "I love you, James Barnes."

My voice is hoarser than I expect. "I love you too, angel."

I don't want to wait until this war's over to marry her. Even if I can't rush to the alter with her now I can still give my heart to her. I can make a promise that's cut in stone rather than words.

The thought of her with a ring on her finger has me tugging her that bit closer with an increasingly familiar need. My lips run along her neck until they find her pulse and I press a kiss to it before sucking lightly to hear her sigh and immediately she tilts her neck to give me better access.

While I've always thought that most men can't be doing the job right when they say that the women they've been with don't enjoy sex, I still believed it was somewhat true that men want it more than women do but I've realised that it's because I'd never been with a woman like Ada.

In these past few days I've spent more time buried inside of her than I have with anyone else in the past ten years combined. I've been dating since I was sixteen so I've had more than enough time to learn, but it's been a different feeling now that I'm with the woman I know I'm going to marry, learning each and every way that makes her sing. I might be half exhausted but I'm sure as hell proud.

If it weren't for what was done to her then I'd be going out and buying the parts to build a crib considering just how many times I've spent myself inside of her these past few days. I've been careful enough over the years and wrapped up for a multitude of reasons, but Ada was a virgin and I'm planning to spend the rest of my life faithful to her so neither of us have seen the need for protection as far as that side of things goes. If anything it's a relief that I can't get her pregnant, not when so much is still uncertain and there's a chance I might not see the end of this.

Leaving a fiance behind is one thing, but leaving a child behind is another.

Before I can linger on that thought her lips are on mine and she's slipping out of my lap, pulling me to my feet by the fabric of my singlet and tugging me over to the couch. She pushes me down onto it and I expect her to climb onto my lap but instead she drops to her knees and a moment later my head falls back against the couch.

Her tongue runs along the length of me and when I look down and meet her eye I could finish right then. Instead I reach down to cup her face, stroking her cheek and brushing her hair back out of her face as she draws sounds out of me I never knew I could make until a hoarse cry's torn from my lungs and the last bit of tension finally leaves my body.

She smiles as I pull her up and half toss her onto the couch, the robe falling open and baring her to me to find that the marks I'd made across her chest the night before have just about fully faded. I lean over her and her smile turns to a smirk as I wipe the corner of her mouth and there's an almost wicked gleam in her eyes that tells me exactly how we'll be spending the next few hours.

And for the fourth day in the row it's after midday when we finally manage to get food cooking, and I remember what I'd promised about showing her around Brooklyn since having her on every flat surface of the apartment doesn't exactly count.

"I was thinking that I should take you to Coney Island," I say, her arms wrapped around my waist as we get the water boiling. "We can bring Steve and Agent Carter. Make it a double date."

Her arms tighten around my waist and I know she's smiling. "I've never been to Coney Island."

"Exactly," I say, aware that our leave will be ending before we know it. "And they've got a shooting gallery."

I look over my shoulder to see her eyes light up. "Aw, it'll be just like our first date."

"Except I won't be the idiot that thinks he's the better shot," I point out and she laughs before cupping my face.

"Oh darling, I can promise that you're still a damn good shot," she says, stroking my cheek and teasing. "Second best on the team."

"I can settle for that."

She pecks my lips and looks at the pot in contemplation. "Would we be able to have a shower before we eat?"

"It's alright sweetheart, I'll cook and let you have the hot water to yourself," I say since this is what I'd been counting on but she pouts and I know I've already lost the battle.

"You sure you don't wanna join?"

I take her hand and kiss it, double checking that she's not wearing any rings. "You get the shower started and I'll join you in a minute."

She smiles now and pecks my lips again before heading towards the bedroom and I stay by the stovetop until I hear the water start. Very carefully I sneak into the bedroom, finding the door to the bathroom half ajar but I can work with that. I make my way to the vanity I've put together for her to find the small jewellery box that sits atop it beside her perfume. Carefully I open it to find a ring and get a measurement only to find nothing but a rosary, her locket and medals that I don't recognise.

Out of pure curiosity I pick up one in the shape of a red star with a silver disc in the centre, finding that it bears the engraving of a soviet soldier which tells me enough about its origins even without the Cyrillic text that borders the rim of the disc. I might know a few Russian words but I'm utterly lost as to reading it. Two other medals rest on the red fabric of the jewellery box, one's a simple gold star attached to a short red ribbon while the other is far more extravagant. In the centre is a platinum portrait surrounded by a gold laurel wreath and a red flag, a hammer and sickle resting at the bottom. The face on the portrait is half recognisable, but I just can't put my finger on it...

"Buck?" she calls out from inside the bathroom and I have to stop myself from jumping.

"Yeah- yep," I panic, trying to keep my voice even upon remembering that she can't see me from the shower.

"Oh good you're in there," she says and I exhale a little shakily. "Can you bring in another bar of soap please?"

"Yes sweetheart," I say and press my lips together, realising that I'll have to get her ring size a somehow riskier way and very carefully put the medals back as best I can as to what they were. Despite everything she's told me about her time in Russia I'm still at a loss as to what missions she could have carried out to be awarded medals considering that she never fought in any conflicts before being stationed in the US, and I've got a feeling that the last one isn't something just handed out freely.

"Buck, the water's gonna get cold," she chimes and I try to make sure everything's as it was before grabbing another bar of soap and stepping inside the bathroom to a sight I'm never going to grow tired of as she looks over her shoulder at me with a smile. "Coming in?"

~

The day after we're all at church for a Christmas Eve service. Despite being a baptised Catholic Ada doesn't feel too opposed to attending the Protestant service with the rest of us since she apparently likes to get a broader perspective on things, although she tells me that she'd often attend proper Latin mass when she was younger.

I always thought that communists were meant to be atheists but I don't question it at this point, although I make a mental note to attend a Catholic service with her before we go back to London. I don't know the rules about these sorts of things, but I know that all of this means something to her even if it seems to contradict her attitude towards everything else. I can't quite comprehend it, but I want to understand.

She watches attentively while I'm watching her. The way her lashes rise and fall, how her red lips move as she dutifully recites the words despite the way her fingers fidget for a cigarette. Her hair sits neatly along her jawline, although it's mostly hidden by the maroon headscarf she wears tied loosely beneath her chin. She's the most beautiful thing in this room and I can't bring myself to look away.

"When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive," she quietly recites under her breath with greater familiarity than any other verse during prayer and I can't shake my concern with the way she recites one of the psalms.

"Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions and my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned and done this evil in thy sight that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest. Behold, I was shapen in iniquity and in sin did my mother conceive me." She falls quiet with those words and purses her mouth, resuming several lines later. "Deliver me from bloodguiltiness..."

Across the pew I meet Peggy's eye and realise I'm not the only one listening to Ada, although she still tilts her head back towards the front of the room, motioning for me to return to my own prayers and leave Ada to pray for a salvation that she doesn't need.

And I wonder if Peggy's noticed how Ada's arm extends towards the top of the bedframe in her sleep, as if still restrained by what I've gathered to be handcuffs. The way she always seems to reach first for a weapon when startled. The constant awareness of her surroundings that I only developed after being deployed.

It's the first time I've been to church since long before I began my training and it leaves me uneasy after having watched good men die mid prayer in the heat of a battle or in the long aftermath when they've realised that there's no surviving the wounds they've received. After all, there's no god that can stop a machine gun or reattach a destroyed limb.

I don't know if I believe in God after everything I've seen, but I believe in her. Everything I searched for in god during those months I found in her that day. Hope, freedom... a lifeline when I thought that pain would never stop. Even now in those moments I find myself back in that cell she's there to pull me back out. A holy man might say that it was god who led her to me in that prison, but she was the one that saved me from it.

We might be standing before God, but she's my salvation.

In the midst of prayer she turns her head to look at me and our eyes meet. All I know in this moment is that I can't wait another day to ask her to marry me let alone the months or even years until this war's done. Maybe god does exist after all, because it's a miracle that I don't blurt the words out here and now.

Her eyes never leave mine until the end of the prayer and we're dismissed at the conclusion of the service. I take her hand to help her to her feet, absentmindedly running my thumb over her empty ring finger knowing that I need to do this right.

"Come on angel," I say and her eyes are bright, her tone teasing.

"I think it might be blasphemy to call me an angel while we're standing in a church."

"Can't be blasphemy if it's true," I tease back and she's smiling as we step outside into the sun, looking up at the sky and bathing in the light before turning her head towards Peggy.

"I almost forgot what the sun felt like after all that time in London."

"Appreciate it while it lasts, because we'll be back there before we know it," Peggy advises and I put the plan I formulated during the last half of the service into action.

"I forgot to mention that I've gotta help Steve fix something at his apartment," I tell Ada and she looks between Steve and I with furrowed brows. "How about you and Carter take a walk around the city and I'll meet you back at our apartment at eleven thirty?"

Her eyes brighten as I press the keys into her hand and thankfully her only take away from that is "Our apartment?"

"Our apartment," I repeat back and she breaks into a smile that only affirms how desperately I want to watch her face light up when I ask her to marry me. I've made countless promises to her in the past few days, most when we've been naked and babbling, but those are all just words without a ring to seal it.

"I'll see you soon, darling."

"See you soon, sweetheart," I say, instinctually leaning in to kiss her despite being in public. "I love you."

"I love you too," she says, meeting my lips with the same lack of caution before quickly remembering and straightening up. "Don't be too long."

She knows damn well that I'm not fixing anything in Steve's apartment, but she doesn't question me on it and instead takes the chance to spend the morning with Peggy. Steve and I watch them walk off arm in arm into the distance, and only when they're out of earshot does Steve look at me with raised eyebrows.

"We're fixing what now?"

"My future," I answer and nudge him along in case she looks back to see where we're going. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

He's not overly surprised, but still clarifies "When the war's finished?"

"I'll marry her when the war's finished but I was thinking of proposing today, tomorrow at the latest."

"Bucky," Steve says carefully but I'm not willing to hear it.

"Come on Steve, you can't expect me to be living out of wedlock," I jest and he actually chokes. "We've just been to church, I'm turning over a new leaf."

"A new leaf?" he repeats doubtfully. "You do realise I saw you paying more attention to Ada than you ever have to a pastor right?"

"If you were sleeping with Agent Carter, would you wait to propose?" I ask him and after turning red he simply sighs.

"No, no I wouldn't," he admits but asks "So, what's proposing to Ada got to do with me?"

And I continue into the riskier part of the plan. "I was going to ask if you could maybe have a word to Agent Carter and ask her to get Ada's ring size?"

But we both know how those two talk and so he tries to come up with a different strategy. "She doesn't have any rings you could measure?"

"Before you call me an idiot I did try that, but she didn't have any rings in her jewellery box and I don't think I've ever seen her wear any," I say and after a moment of thought he comes to the same conclusion. "I'd try to measure it myself when she's asleep but do you have any idea how stressful it is trying to keep something secret from a spy?"

"I don't think I've ever lied to Peggy so no, not yet at least," he says and I can find some relief in knowing that I won't be the only navigating being married to someone in their profession once this is all over. "But I'm sure that Peggy wouldn't say anything to Ada if I asked. Do you know how you're going to ask her?"

"Not yet, but I'll figure something out," I say, realising that I need a plan of action. "She's not the type to like anything fancy or flashy, so I'm thinking something more intimate."

"Intimate?" he repeats back. "That's a word I never thought I'd hear come out of Bucky Barnes's mouth."

I can laugh in agreement with that. "What can I say? I'm in love."

He's smiling with me now and asks "Have you told your family about her yet?"

"Not yet but I've planned for them to meet her on Christmas," I say and awkwardly try to express to Steve. "I've been meaning to bring her around to their place but I- I'm nervous man. I know they'll love her but-"

"You don't think they'll take you seriously if you introduce the girl you've known for a month as the love of your life?" he says a bit too sarcastically.

"Seven weeks, and technically I've known her for longer than you've known her pal," I remind him. "And if it wasn't for that damn contract then I'd marry her right now in that church, but it's not just that. More the fact that she isn't like any of the girls I've brought home over the years and no I don't mean the assassin part."

"Then what part do you mean?"

"Her being an agent, being out there in the field with us," I say and see him realise that I won't be the only one explaining her and Peggy's profession to my parents. "Because let's face it, we've found ourselves some pretty unusual women."

"We?" he remarks before giving up the sarcasm. "Look, you'll be fine. Ada isn't exactly a housewife but she's good with people as long as they aren't giving her orders, and besides, your parents are pretty open minded."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I agree, knowing it's not that I'm worried about. "It's just- this is a big deal to me. This isn't just any other girl, this is the woman I'm going to be spending the rest of my life with."

Only then does he really start to realise how serious I am about her, that this isn't like the other girls I've gotten involved with. "She's really got you head over heels doesn't she?"

"She does and I'd never want it any other way. I'm gonna marry her and I know it won't be until all of this is over, but I'm sure as hell not waiting to put a ring on her finger."

He nods and carefully asks "Have you two spoken about having a family and all the rest considering the circumstances?"

"We'll adopt," I say, picturing it clearly. "Once the war's done we'll get married and then maybe take a few years to ourselves. I mean we'll be legally adopting her sister first but she's already school aged and after having three sisters that wouldn't be a worry. Ada raised her sister from when she was a baby and I know she won't be able to rest until she's safe."

"You're right," he agrees. "She won't. I don't think anyone has the slightest idea of how we're going to get that kid out of Russia but this war won't be over for Ada until she's got her in the United States."

There's a pang in my chest knowing just how true his words are.

"If anything had happened to my parents when my sisters were younger I would've become their guardian as well so I wouldn't expect anything else from her," I say, having faith that together we can pull off that mission when the time comes. "Then we'll move into a bigger place with enough room for a few more of our own down the line, figure out what the hell we're going to be doing with our lives when we don't have a gun in our hands."

"You really have thought this through," he realises and jests "I still can't believe Bucky Barnes, the ladies man of Brooklyn, is finally settling down."

Again I can laugh in agreement with that. "When you know you know, and trust me I'm sure as hell not gonna be going unsatisfied."

He groans now and shakes his head at me. "Bucky, as long as you don't start giving me details I'll talk to Peggy and get her ring size for you."

I'm still grinning to myself as we walk down the street. "Steve, even if I wanted to give you details I wouldn't even know where to begin when it comes to her."

~

Ada

After meeting back up with Bucky at lunch he and I decide to actually spend some time walking around the city considering how much of it we've spent horizontal in the past few days, although I have taken quite a liking to being vertical as well. If nothing else my imagination has certainly been stretched these past few days.

My skirt falls beneath my knees as we walk, matching my maroon beret and gloves but the moment the wind picks up I realise that I'm missing the accompanying scarf and despite being raised in Russia I still have very little love for the cold.

"I was so sure I brought that scarf back with me to your apartment," I sigh as we walk towards SSR headquarters, my arm still wrapped around his.

My concern from yesterday hasn't faded but he's carrying himself well, walking with a steadier step and speaking in a stronger voice. Seeing him in the state he was yesterday was enough to break my heart and affirm that I'm doing the right thing by working directly in the field with him. Not just because we'll be hunting Zola but because I'll be by his side no matter what that hunt may bring. I wouldn't be able to sleep being parted from him.

"You did, but then you definitely wore it back here before we you got changed for that ceremony," Bucky tells me, stopping as we near the closest corner. "You go on ahead first so they don't see us together and then I'll meet up with you after you've gotten what else you need."

With a kiss on the cheek I reluctantly leave him and head inside headquarters, taking the lift to the floor that holds the living quarters. My hand reaches to open the door to the room Peggy and I share although it stills over the doorknob when I hear Steve's voice from inside.

"You can't tell her."

"Steve, I'm an agent, I can assure you I'm quite adept at keeping secrets," she says and my skin crawls as I lean in to listen. "Which is why I'll also remind you that she's been trained in espionage since she was a child, so if Barnes wants to hide this from her then I suggest the two of you utilise a bit more subtlety."

My eyebrow raises and I purse my mouth, prepared to walk in there and demand answers until I hear Steve say "Which is why he sent me to ask for her ring size instead of trying to get it himself."

My hand comes up to cover my mouth and my heart stops. Despite all the promises he's made I'm still unable to truly believe it until Peggy's next words confirm I'm not utterly delusional.

"How about you and Howard keep her busy and I'll take Sergeant Barnes into the city myself to help him choose something for her," Peggy offers and I give an approving nod even though she can't see it. "I'll admit, as pleased as I am I'm a little surprised. He never struck me as the type to settle down, not so fast at least."

"I'm as surprised as you are," Steve admits and I blink in mild offence before he continues "Bucky... he's always loved girls and the girls have loved him, but something changed when Ada found him in that prison. He's changed. He won't tell me what they did in there but Ada knew the moment she saw him, that much I'm sure of. She understands in a way that I can't. Since the moment he saw her he's only ever had eyes for her."

"Yes," Peggy says, her voice hoarse since she knows the specifics of my own experimentation, and by extension has a better idea than Steve of what was done to Bucky. "I do believe that their experiences under Zola are what's brought them together."

"Then he fell in love with her, almost instantly," Steve says and my hand settles over my heart. "I've known Bucky just about all my life, but I've never seen him like this. He isn't just head over heels, he adores her. It's like he woke up in that prison and thought she was some sort of angel. He was delirious enough that he probably did. He's found the woman he wants to spend his life with and I couldn't be happier for him."

"I'm glad," Peggy says, her words nothing but genuine. "She's had a hellish life and she deserves to have that kind of love after all the suffering she's endured, and god knows she loves him... I only worry what it would cost her if Phillips were to find out. Agents are held to a different standard than the other women who serve, not to mention the conditions of her employment. They forget that she isn't just an asset, she's a woman with a heart far larger than they give her credit for."

"I know," Steve said and I listen anxiously only to find reassurance. "But don't worry, we've got her back. She's a Howling Commando, I'd like to see Phillips try to get rid of her."

"Yes, because she'd finish the job if he did," she remarks and I'm forcing back a smile at how well she knows me. "Ada filled me in on a great deal this morning and from what she said it's apparent that the two have spoken in depth about a life together at the end of the war, children and the rest, but I must admit this is all rather sudden." I press my lips together, that anxiety quickly rising again. "What's pushed him to propose so quickly?"

"I've been asking myself the same question but he's different to how he was before he was taken prisoner," Steve says and my heart aches. "He never saw much of a point in settling down or looking for anything serious. He loved dating more than he loved the girls he was with, but that's all changed now. What happened in that prison rattled him and he's a hard person to rattle. He's found Ada and he's determined to marry her."

"I must ask, is it Ada he loves or is it just a coincidence that he's met Ada at this time and that he'd be rushing to marry any woman who saw to his wounds in the aftermath?" Peggy asks and it's a harsh question, but not an invalid one considering the nature of men. There's a moment of silence and she continues "Before you think me to be cruel I love Ada dearly and I know that she loves him, which is why I want to ensure that love is reciprocated properly before she's running to the alter to marry a man she's known for a month."

"I had the same conversation with Bucky," Steve admits and my stomach sinks a little. "The thing is it's not like Bucky to rush into something like this, otherwise he probably would have run and eloped with some girl the moment he was eighteen. Like I said, he likes dating and he likes the chase, but how serious he is about Ada's the last thing I could have expected from him. Even the way he's gone about things with her is different to any other relationship he's had. Don't get me wrong I like Ada as well but I still think he's crazy for falling in love with a Russian assassin."

"Former Russian assassin," Peggy pointedly reminds him. "And you do realise that she was born in America don't you?"

"I know, but you get where I'm coming from," Steve says and I purse my mouth. "My point is that she's got a pretty unique skill set, but Bucky doesn't see that as being any different to what we do out there."

"Yes, well, Ada does have a rather disarming nature that makes it hard to imagine her in that light," Peggy says and I'm not quite sure how those words make me feel. "But I can assure you that she is genuine in it, and she truly is very much in love with him."

"And he's in love with her," he assures Peggy in turn. "He doesn't have a single doubt in his mind that she's the one and he doesn't see the point in waiting for the war to end to be with her, even if it's just to propose rather than to run to the court house."

He doesn't need to add the silent part; in waiting for a day we might not see.

I look over my shoulder at the sound of footsteps to find a pair of WAAC'S walking past and when I turn back to the door I hear Peggy saying "Just find an excuse and I'll go with Sergeant Barnes this afternoon."

She begins moving towards the door and I quickly act as if I've only just intercepted her as it opens, feigning surprise at almost running into her. "Peg- oh" I continue to feign surprise at the sight of Steve. "Steve? Usually I'm the one sneaking in and out of rooms."

He quickly ducks out while no one's in the hallway and Peggy joins us as he scrambles for an excuse. "I-uh..."

"Don't worry, I won't be reporting you for being in a lady's room," I assure him. "Just count yourself lucky I didn't hit you this time."

He manages a laugh and says "Thanks, also I um- I forgot to mention that Howard's been asking us to visit his mansion and I said we'd go by this afternoon, but the thing is that Bucky and I ran into his sister Rebecca while we were walking and he promised to go and fix something in her apartment so it would just be the two of us."

Peggy watches with a somewhat pained expression at his attempt at coming up with a convincing deception and I act disappointed. "Oh, just the two of us? Peggy you can't come?"

"You may be on leave but I am still on the clock for a little longer," she says and I recognise his footsteps, turning to look as Bucky comes around the corner and my heart swells.

"Did you find that scarf?" he asks as he joins up with us and for a moment I've completely forgotten why we came here in the first place before remembering.

"Oh that, no I- um," I laugh slightly out of pure nerves and gesture towards Steve and Peggy. "These two caught me a little by surprise but considering the amount of times they've walked in on us I can't quite comment."

"She walked in on me showing Steve the door," Peggy clarifies and I notice the silent conversation between the two men, Bucky's tilt of the head and Steve's affirmative nod.

"Steve said you're fixing something in your sister's apartment?" I ask, quietly judging Steve's lack of creativity when coming up with excuses, and he's momentarily confused before going along with it.

"Yeah, I'd bring you around to meet her but she's sick and she was all worked up and hysterical about this rattling she keeps hearing from the sink," Bucky says but adds "You'll meet her tomorrow on Christmas. Steve and I were thinking we'd do lunch at mine and then we'll go to my parents for dinner."

"I'd like that," I say and Steve quickly jumps in.

"Also Buck, would you mind if Agent Carter joined us considering she doesn't have any family over here to spend it with?"

Peggy's caught by surprise and starts to brush Steve off. "It's quite alright-"

"No, no, I insist," Bucky says and I smile. "We'll be celebrating so the more the merrier."

"You aren't allowed to say no," I say to Peggy, my heart leaping in my chest at the thought of what we'll be celebrating. "Please come."

She smiles and squeezes my hand. "Well then, how can I refuse?"

"Also," I say, looking at Bucky. "I hope you don't mind but Steve's asked me to accompany him on a visit to Howard's mansion later."

Genuine annoyance flashes across his face when he looks at Steve. "Oh has he now?"

Steve gives an apologetic shrug and says "He's been persistent."

"Oh I know how persistent he is," Bucky scoffs but calms himself down and rubs my shoulder. "I'll see you when you get home."

"See you then," I smile with a squeeze of his hand and I could be brought to tears from sheer joy alone as Steve whisks me away.

I'm going to be a wife.