That night Peggy and I walk to the pub knowing damn well just who we're dressed up for, even if we'd never admit it. We're both dressed in red, and whilst she's styled more conservatively considering the reputation she has to maintain, my assets are already on posters all around America and so I feel quite confident with the low neckline and cinched waist.

My hair falls just below my chin now that Peggy's helped me cut the burnt ends off, and if there's even the slightest chance I'll be in the field it's a far more practical length. Either way, it's a flattering style and I have no illusions about the advantages that my appearance brings. We were taught that it's a weapon as effective as any knife, perhaps even more so, although this may be the first time I've ever styled myself with a particular person in mind.

And while I can't say with certainty that I'm walking in there with a specific end goal in mind for the evening, I know just who I want to find. True freedom is closer than ever, and Erskine's words play on my mind, the same as they did the night I met Bucky.

Erskine wanted me to take whatever freedom that was in reach and grasp onto it. He wanted me to live as full of a life as I could. His own freedom was cut short by Hydra, and I owe it to him to make the most of mine in his memory. To fight for it with every tool I have in my arsenal instead of resisting in the sake of defiance. To fight until I can get myself on the front line, and to make the most of life in the meantime.

He was right when he told me there's no going back, only forward. That the future can hold more for me than dread, and perhaps Sergeant James Barnes represents what that might mean.

"So I take it that Sergeant Barnes's affection for you isn't one sided if you kissed him after knowing him for a few hours," Peggy mentions and I smile to myself. "And for you to come here tonight."

"He surprised me today," I tell her. "I don't think a man has ever done that before, not in a positive way at least. I respect him, and that's far more important than attraction." She raises an eyebrow and I admit "Although attraction is hardly an issue."

"Hmm that's what I thought," she teases as we reach the doors of the pub. "So, just to clarify considering his current state, he does remember you from the expo?"

"It took him a minute but yes, he does," I say, my voice slightly breathless with anticipation. "And I believe that I promised him a dance if he made it back in one piece."

She smiles for me and as soon as we step inside the bar goes quiet at the sight of us. I can't deny the simple truth that we look stunning tonight, both of us with red lips and perfect hair, and the dresses certainly do their job.

Our eyes find them immediately, sitting together at the bar, and the look on their faces when they see us makes the work we put in worth it. They slowly stand in unison to greet us, quickly putting on their smoothest walk. It's endearingly amusing, although the sight of Bucky quickly has my heart pounding.

"Agent Carter," Steve greets.

"Captain," she returns while Bucky takes me in, the look in his eyes making no secret of exactly what's going through his mind, something I can't help but reciprocate.

"Ada," Bucky greets more casually and takes the hand that I extend to him, bringing it to his lips without breaking eye contact, a softness to his expression.

"James," I return, slightly stunned by his appearance considering how unwell he had been the last time I saw him, now he's midway between the man I remember from New York and the one I found in that lab.

He's wearing a jacket similar to the one he was the night I met him when he was so pristinely put together, except in a bomber style cut that compliments him well, and I quickly find that I like him like this; unkempt with the top of his shirt unbuttoned enough to show the singlet beneath and a look in his eye that makes my breathing heavy.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight," he says, slowly looking me up and down in a way that only adds to the heat in my cheeks.

"Are you disappointed?" I tease and he quickly shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine.

"Definitely not," he says and we briefly glance over to see Steve and Peggy locked in their own conversation, something about dancing when this is over. "I don't suppose you'd like to join me."

I look over at Peggy and back to him, teasing him just that bit more. "Well, considering my friend here is occupied I can't see a reason why not."

He holds my hand as he guides me over to the bar, every bit a gentleman as he pulls out a stool for me and helps me up onto it before sitting down beside me.

"If I knew you were coming I would've cleaned up a bit better," he says a little sheepishly as he turns his body so he's facing me fully.

"Oh no, there's no need," I assure him, taking my turn to look him up and down. "And besides, I quite like this look very much."

"Yeah?" he teases, his voice deepening as he leans in. "Because you look absolutely beautiful tonight."

"Is that so?" I tease right back.

"I gotta say, you in this dress..." The sound he makes is sinful, although it's his next words that sway me. "But there's something about you in a soldier's uniform that's got this beat."

I have to turn my head away to hide a smile before looking back at him. "Well, thanks to you Sergeant you may just get to see me in one again."

And the extent of gratitude I feel surprises me. He may have had pure intentions in that meeting, or he may have simply been trying to keep me around for long enough to undress me, but regardless... his words had an impact.

"Don't even mention it," he says lowering his voice to a tone I recognise from our conversation in the truck. "What I said to the Colonel was the least I could do considering what you did for me. Consider it a thanks."

"You went out of your way to defend me when you didn't have to," I make the point of noting. "I should be thanking you-"

"That's nothing compared to saving my life," he says and moves his hand across the counter to grasp mine, and any question I have as to his intentions is answered by how nervous he suddenly becomes. "Would I be able to thank you properly by buying you a drink?"

"I'd like that very much, James," I say and decide if there's any time to be bold it's now. "On one condition."

"And what's that," he murmurs, watching his thumb trace the side of my hand.

"You let me thank you with that dance that I owe you."

His eyes brighten as they meet mine, and the smile he wears is sweet. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"That drink," I tease and my smile matches his. "I might need one or two before I get up to dance in the middle of a pub in London. It's a lovely city, but terribly lacking in spirit."

"Yes ma'am," he smiles and looks up at the bottles on the top shelf behind the bar. "I'm guessing you're a hard liquor type of girl."

"Because I'm Russian?" I ask and he laughs.

"Well, I can't imagine a woman who's as comfortable with grenades and assault rifles as you are only drinks the fruity stuff," he says and I tilt my head in approval. "I'm right aren't I?"

"You have good judgement," I praise and his lips brush my hand as he calls out to the bartender.

"Could I get a whisky neat for the lady and myself, thanks." He turns his attention back to me and studies my face for a moment before reaching to gently move the hair back off my temple. "Are you sure you're alright after that hit you took?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him and he raises his eyebrows in doubt. "Well, fine physically. I dare say I've gotten worse headaches from stress than having my head slammed into a railing by a supersoldier."

"Yeah, I was worried after Agent Carter pulled you off the plane," he mentions and his concern's touching. "I'm guessing there's some history there with you and Phillips after that last meeting?"

"That's an understatement," I sigh, anxious about everything he heard. "But if we get into that then I'll end up needing to drink this bar out of its liquor."

"I think the guys over there might beat you to it," he says and I look over to find the men he introduced me to. "Steve asked me to bring them here so we could put a team together, and just like I told him, they're all idiots."

He says that affectionately and I add "Well I suppose I am too for wanting to throw myself out in the field."

The bartender places our drinks on the counter and we both thank him before Bucky mentions "I feel like the bigger idiot now that I think back to our conversation in Queens."

"Don't feel like an idiot when I was being vague for a reason," I say softly and reach forward to cup his cheek. "I think I might have scared you off otherwise."

"Nah, you wouldn't have scared me off I just would've been a bit sceptical," he says and my brows crease when I realise the cut on his cheek's all but healed. "Although a lot of the things you said make a hell of a lot more sense now."

"Your face," I murmur as I run my thumb over the now faint scar. "It's healed quickly."

"What can I say?" he says, covering my hand with his and turning his head just enough to kiss the inside of my palm. "I had a good nurse, now..." he pulls back to raise his glass. "Cheers to kicking Hydra's ass, one factory at a time."

"Cheers indeed," I say, our drinks clinking together as I study his eyes.

They're more focused than they were, but still not quite how I remember them being when we'd met, although I doubt they will be again. He's recovering, physically he's getting there faster than I would have expected, but I don't have to imagine the mental wounds he's nursing.

"Let's hope that this one won't be the last we destroy," I continue, and we hear the men starting to get carried away over in the next room. "I gather that they bonded while imprisoned?"

Bucky nods and manages a laugh "They didn't get along one bit at first but they found some common ground." He looks over at them with pride. "One of the guards was giving me a hard time, I'd uh- caught pneumonia and couldn't keep up with the labour." I slowly sit up straight now, my eyes widening at the very important fact he conveniently left out while I was treating him. "I copped a beating but they made sure that guard wasn't an issue after that, blamed an accident on old equipment."

"You- James!" I exclaim quietly and he freezes. "Why didn't you tell me you had pneumonia?"

"Because I don't have it anymore," he answers with an apologetic shrug. "Had a broken rib or two as well but that seems to have fixed itself up."

I stare at him now in utter awe, beginning to realise why he and Steve are so close. "You had pneumonia and broken ribs and you didn't think that was important to mention?"

"Sweetheart, you were the one walking around giving orders after you got your head slammed into a railing," he points out. "We're both as bad as each other."

I sigh deeply, but can appreciate what those men did for him despite my frustration. "You trust them?"

"With my life," he answers without a moment of hesitation. "And..." he reaches for my hand, holding it firmly. "I trust you."

The firm intent behind those simple few words tells me all I need to know about his reaction to everything he's overheard, and his attempt to reassure me. Maybe it's the fact that he's a man who's sitting in front of a pretty woman and doesn't have his senses about him, but I know better.

I was trained to dissect the minds of men, to categorise them and assess the risks they pose in an instant. Every moment I spend with him only affirms the assessment I made that night, that he's a good man.

And that's a rare thing.

"You know, you surprised me today James," I begin softly.

"I hope it was in a good way," he says and I squeeze his hand assuringly.

"Yes, in a good way," I affirm and gauge his expression as I ask "Did you mean it when you said that you want me beside you in the field?"

"I meant every word," he says, holding my eye and again speaking with intent. Telling me that they aren't empty words said with little regard for the weight behind them. "You're a soldier, and you deserve to be out there with us."

"Then you've earned my respect," I say, which is something more important to me than any fleeting fancy. "Which I can't say for many people."

"Then I'm honoured," he says and I'm unable to look away from those blue eyes. "And I hope you know that respect goes both ways."

"I'm glad to hear it," I say, feeling a tightness in my chest that's soothed by his touch, and that is something dangerous. "Because you've made quite the impression on me, soldier."

"I'm the one who's made an impression?" he laughs quietly and takes a sip of his drink, although it quickly becomes apparent that it's for courage. "Steve thinks I'm an idiot for getting carried away, and maybe I am making an idiot of myself, but I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since that night in Queens and then when I saw you in that factory..." he trails off and I'm caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. "I don't think I can put into words what it feels like to have someone tell you that you're safe after something like that. To-"

He cuts himself off again and holds my hand with a tenderness that's foreign to me as he struggles for words and so I say "I know." I'm blinking away tears now as I tell him "It's- I only did what I wish someone would have done for me."

His face changes now and he reaches forward to take my face in his hand. We're sitting close enough that he only has to lean forward to press his lips to my forehead and my eyes fall shut at the tender touch. A single tear manages to escape and his thumb gently brushes it away.

And this- the emotions that simple touch elicits- is everything I once thought was impossible. These simple human emotions, the ache for intimacy, it's something that was meant to have been beat out of me long ago, and for a long time I thought they'd succeeded. Yet here I am.

I pull back just enough so that I can look him in the eye, drowning in the sheer intensity of his gaze as I breathe "For the record, if you're an idiot then so am I." Our noses bump together as my lips gravitate towards his, and I force myself to have at least some discipline considering we're surrounded by people. "I believe I owe you a dance, Sergeant."

"Then what are we waiting for?" he asks again and this time I let him take my hand to lead me to the dance floor, aching to be closer to him. My wishes are granted when he holds me by the waist, our bodies pressed together as we sway to the music playing, ignorant to anything going on around us.

My hand rests on his chest, slipping up around his shoulder with more admiration than I'd care to admit as he murmurs "Have I told you how beautiful you are?"

"Once or twice," I smile.

"Only once or twice?" he questions as he leans in, squeezing my waist at the same time he presses a cheeky kiss just below my ear that takes me by surprise. "I don't think just once or twice does you justice."

"Well, I'm the one that has the pleasure of dancing with the most handsome man in this bar," I make the point of telling him, considering I did call him malnourished a few days ago. "A very handsome man indeed."

He makes a satisfied sound and I'm breathing him in, one very specific type of warmth washing over me.

Desire.

We were taught that it was a person's greatest weakness, especially a man's, that the lengths they would go to for sex are absurd. That there's no faster weapon to cloud their judgement than a woman's body.

That is all true, but I've begun to learn that women aren't all that different. Repressed in those desires, but not without them.

I'm evidence of that.

Even now, I feel myself preparing for a beating for daring show those desires, but my mother isn't here. I am a grown woman, an almost free woman, and I am finally in a position to use those freedoms as I see fit.

And I've committed far worse sins than the ones I'm imagining now.

My eyes flicker to his lips only to be distracted by the sound of a familiar song and he grins at the sound, both our minds going back to our night in Queens.

"Come on, doll," he says, leading me over towards the jukebox, not hesitating to give me a teasing pull towards him. "They're playing our song."

"Our song?" I laugh as the intro to Pistol Packin' Mama plays.

"Can't imagine a better one for you," he grins and I shake my head with a smile as he spins me around. "Although I didn't realise just how much when we were dancing in Queens."

"And now?"

"I like a woman who knows how to handle a pistol," he says as he pulls me to him. "As long as it's not pointed at me."

I laugh and promise him "There's no need to worry about that." Although I can't help but jest "As long as you don't try to leave with anyone else tonight."

He leans in close to murmur "Sweetheart, the only woman I want to leave here with is you."

Despite the immediate warmth that rushes through my body I still tease "Didn't learn your lesson from the first time then?"

He just smirks with a gleam in his eye that leaves me more intoxicated than alcohol ever could.

"My luck hasn't run out yet," he says and I hum as his hand slips around from my waist to the small of my back to hold me closer, although he makes the point of clarifying "But, if you want to keep dancing I'm still the luckiest man in England."

And as tempted as I am to drag him out of here by his collar and get carried away enough to merit a church visit in the morning, something tells me this is worth nurturing for a little longer.

"Let's keep dancing and see where the night takes us," I say and he nods with a sweet smile, content with that, and goes to move the hand that sits low on my back to a less provocative place but I catch his hand. "Oh no, that can stay right there."

"Yes ma'am," he smiles, his lips brushing my forehead while his hand remains firmly in place. "You know, I could get used to taking orders."

"Then it's a shame that you'll outrank me by default regardless of their verdict," I remind him, having no false ideas about the very limited authority I'll hold if they decide to allow me in the field.

"Only on paper," he says, and through the fabric of my dress I feel his thumb tracing circles on the small of my back. "And besides, I think it'll be weirder taking orders from Steve than from you."

"Oh yes, that-" I have to laugh now at the audacity of Steve giving anyone orders. "I believe he tried to give Agent Carter and I orders before we jumped out of that plane-"

"He jumped out of a plane?" he repeats back to me and shakes his head with that same protectiveness I saw in Queens. "I swear I told him not to do anything stupid 'til I got back."

"It's alright, I was supervising him," I assure Bucky and that does seem to give him some reassurance until I say "I made sure he put on a parachute at the very least before hurling himself out of a plane that was dodging anti aircraft fire."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last part," he says and I laugh before he turns his attention back to me. "Maybe you're the one I've gotta worry about because you seem just as bad as Steve, only difference is you've got the background to back it up."

"Well, you aren't wrong in that assessment," I admit. "Although in all fairness I am far more durable than the average soldier, and once you get past fear there's very little that can't be accomplished."

"Now see, there's a difference between fear and caution," he points out and I smile almost sadly. "And just how durable are we talking?"

"Yes there is, unfortunately you tend to learn the difference the hard way," I say before moving on. "But, thanks to my enhancements I am quite durable. My metabolism is about two and a half times faster than the average woman, and my cells replenish at a similar accelerated rate if not faster, so I heal quite quickly but it takes a great deal of alcohol to get drunk."

"So," he begins as we look over to the men. "If I bet each of them five pounds that you could out drink them..."

I laugh loudly now and see that mischievous glint in his eye. "Yes, I could out drink them quite easily, although poor Steve is a different story. His metabolism is four times faster than the average male so theoretically I don't think he could get drunk unless he managed to skull a bottle of hard liquor or two within ten minutes."

Bucky nods. "So, you're saying that if I wanted to get Steve drunk I've missed my window?"

"Indeed," I say apologetically and he looks over, still seeing a challenge. It's at that moment a bugle plays from the jukebox and the men get to their feet, drunk and stumbling to dance to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, immediately breaking into song.

Bucky spins me around now, dipping me as he grins "Come on sing, I know you want to."

I scrunch my nose up at him but can hardly resist with the rush of adrenaline that his touch brings as we dance, and somehow the words fit all too well as we both join in with the other men.

"They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam

It really brought him down because he couldn't jam

The captain seemed to understand

Because the next day the cap' went out and drafted a band-"

We both break down in laughter at the cheers that come from the men, including Dugan who yells out "This is our song boys!"

Bucky and I are both laughing with a glee I haven't felt since that first night together as he lifts me up by the waist and spins me around, leaving me breathless when my feet hit the ground. I see the surprised looks the men exchange at the sight of Bucky and I, but it only seems to make him pull me in closer, almost showing me off.

"How was that for a dance?" he asks as the song ends and I loop my arms around his neck, wanting him closer.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said you didn't sweep me off my feet."

We look to see some of the patrons dispersing as the hour grows late, and out of the corner of my eye I notice Peggy returning her glass, realising in a moment of slight panic that she's still here, no doubt waiting for me.

"So, what do you say?" he murmurs as he reaches out to cup my face, his thumb teasing the corner of my mouth. "Want to keep dancing?"

"It's a little warm in here," I say, spying an outdoor garden area that's deserted considering the cold time of year. "What do you say we step outside?"

He quickly understands me and leads me out before anyone can so much as realise we're gone. It's only when the cold air hits my skin that I feel how flushed my cheeks are, along with the nerves that are set alight by his touch... a sensation that I never thought could ever feel so good.

I wasn't lying when I told him he was the most handsome man in this bar. I know better than to fall weak at the knees for a handsome face, those can be found with little trouble, but it's the intensity of his gaze that makes my body ache for his, his voice, his touch...

My hand lands on his chest when he pulls me in by the waist with a hand holding my face, his palm large enough that it spreads across my bare neck and I realise that I like the feeling of that pressure a little too much.

He feels my hum reverberate and his thumb teases my bottom lip softly, just brushing the edge of it with at least the pretence of being gentlemanly, and while I do appreciate that, right now I'm certainly not intending to act like a lady in any sense.

But still, I play along with it a little longer for nothing but the anticipation of it.

"God you are something else," he murmurs as I tilt my chin up, studying his eyes in the low light and realising that no one's ever quite looked at me how he does now.

"And you're quite the dancer," I say before admitting "And the charmer."

He playfully bumps his nose against mine and there's a sweetness to his smile that contradicts the hunger in his eyes, only making me more aware of my own conflicting emotions.

"I've met an incredible woman, and I'd be an idiot to let her walk away twice," he says and it's hard to breathe as he confesses something I never expected. "As soon as you left that night I kept kicking myself for not asking for an address so I could write to you."

Without any provocation he's shown a vulnerability that still leaves me in a state of disbelief, and in my attempt to deny it I search his eyes but only find that he's telling the truth.

"Well, in all fairness I don't exactly have a permanent address," I manage to laugh lightly before swallowing hard, my voice wavering now as I confess as much as I can bring myself to. "I'm really glad I found you in that factory, James. I'll admit, I thought Steve was mad for going there, for even thinking that you could still be alive. I didn't even believe it myself until I saw you there."

"Hey," he says with a gentle smile, tracing the edge of my mouth. "I told you I'd make it back."

"You did," I say, my hand sliding up his chest to cup his face, tracing where the scar had been on his cheek. "I'm really glad you did."

With every moment what I thought was impossible now becomes a reality, and he murmurs "Can I kiss you?"

Every part of me screams an overwhelming yes, but I can't help but tease him a little longer. "I don't know, I think that's a request better suited to a second date."

"Really?" he laughs softly and I'm smiling while he realises. "Well, it's a good thing that this is our second date then."

"It is," I breathe and pull him in by the chain of his dog tags.

This time when our lips meet the sense of formality from our first is long gone, and while it's still just as tender neither of us quite expect the emotion behind it. His lips are the same as I remember them, warm and soft, equally comforting and exhilarating in a way that I never knew another person could be.

When he tilts my jaw up to deepen the kiss desperation begins to take over, and his hands bring about other sensations that are foreign, but welcome. His hand cups the back of my head as his tongue slips past my lips and I gasp into his mouth as he squeezes my waist. My fist tightens around his chain to pull him in closer, needing as much of him as I can possibly feel.

My back presses against the wall as I give myself over to him, drunk on the feeling of him and the way his tongue dances with mine. I'm left whining in protest when he pulls away only to gasp as his lips move down to my jaw and my hand slips into his hair, holding him in place as his mouth finds my pulse point.

Under any other circumstances, I'd never allow anyone so close to such a dangerous place, not when I know how fatal teeth alone could be to that artery with the right force. Any other time I've felt any pressure to that point it's been in the form of a weapon, a threat, never this.

And it's never felt this good.

All I know is that I need more. Now.

"James," I rasp, my body making the decision for me before my mind can even comprehend what I'm saying as I pull his lips back to mine. "Let's leave."

I don't have to tell him twice and he nods, breathing heavily as he kisses me hard once more before wrapping an arm around my shoulders and bringing me back inside, moving with our heads down past his drunken teammates and heading to the exit only to run into Steve and Peggy who may as well be doing what we are with how they're looking at each other.

"There you guys are," Steve says while Peggy immediately clocks the fact that my lipstick is no doubt gone. "Buck, I forgot to mention that they should have your transfer to the SSR sorted tomorrow so you'll be moving into headquarters with me, sharing a room just like old times."

I hum, my mind only on one thing right now as I ask Bucky "And where are you staying tonight?"

"The barracks," he says with a sigh as he looks back at the men. "It's... crowded."

"Yes, speaking of which, Ada and I need to get back to the room we share," Peggy says a little pointedly, reminding me that I can't simply drag him in there to spend the night, and he can hardly bring me into the barracks without both of us getting cussed out for fraternisation.

"Right," I say and turn my head to look at Bucky, wanting another moment alone. "Sergeant Barnes, do you think you could take me back outside? I think I left my lighter there."

Steve looks confused despite the fact that Bucky has his arm around me while Peggy just shakes her head in amused disapproval as we scurry back outside together.

The moment we're out of sight he brings me into his arms, holding me close as he murmurs "If this was Brooklyn I'd know a place or two I could bring you but..."

"It's alright, Sergeant," I say, looking up into those eyes with a hand on his chest. "It'll give you time to figure it out for the third date."

He pulls back with bright eyes. "Third?"

The sight makes me smile, truly smile. "Pick me up tomorrow night, seven thirty."

"Where are we going?" he asks as I begin pulling away from him.

"You tell me," I say, wanting to make this feeling last, and despite how badly I'm aching for more I know better than to rush something that could be special. "Goodnight Sergeant."

"Can I at least walk you back to your room?"

"Tomorrow," I promise. "Because if I let you tonight I wouldn't let you leave, and Peggy would throw both of us out into the street."

He grins broadly and takes my hand, kissing it sweetly. "Goodnight Ada."

"Goodnight James," I return, stepping forward to press my lips to his, letting the kiss linger as it did that night in New York before turning away from him with a smile.

I return inside the bar and catch Steve's eye, who's not so subtly trying to pretend he hasn't been watching us, while Peggy waits by the exit for me.

"I've taken quite the liking to your friend, Steve," I tell him as I walk past, knowing the words will get back to Bucky. "Quite the liking indeed."

Peggy takes my arm as we step out of the pub and I wear a guilty smile as I reach awkwardly for my lighter and a cigarette.

"I would have thought a spy would be a bit more subtle," she remarks as I light it and still I can only smile.

"You know, I think Steve said something similar when we infiltrated that factory," I say, teasing "You two seemed to have been having quite the conversation from what I overheard, something about a dance?"

Now she's the sheepish one as she admits "Yes, I told him that when this is all over I might like to go dancing." She nudges me as she makes the point of saying "Because our duties must take priority over flirting."

"Peg, I'll abide by that the day Howard does," I state rather bluntly and she can't help but laugh despite how she rolls her eyes. "So in other words, never."

"Bloody Howard," she mutters. "I swear Steve thinks that I've been sleeping with him after that joke Howard made in that plane."

"Because Steve isn't overly bright when it comes to women," I say, and after a brief moment of offence on his behalf she nods in agreement. "But, he is smitten."

She leans closer, daring to entertain the thought. "He is?"

"Well, I do have eyes," I say and she blushes red. "So if waiting for the war to be over's what you want, I have no doubt that he'll be wrapped around your finger until then."

She's smiling, but it's sad. "Yes, that is what I want, but this is war and he's a soldier." My own smile begins to fade now and we hold onto each other a little tighter. "I can't let myself imagine a future that might not happen." She echoes my own fears, fears I'd managed to ignore for just a few hours, and she quickly says "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, you're right," I say and squeeze her arm, but still rationalise. "At least if I'm sent out there with them I'm just as likely to get taken out as they are."

"Oh god don't tell me that," she says and pulls me closer. "Do you have any idea how insufferable it's been without you these past months? Stuck in that headquarters with Howard and Phillips for company? I've only just gotten you back, and I've missed you enough as it is without you putting the thought of that into my head."

My lip quivers and I wrap my arm around her now as we walk, almost tearful as I tell her "I've missed you too Peg, god knows I've missed you."

And just as I'd hoped when she recruited me, I know without any doubt in my mind that I've found a friend in Peggy Carter.

~

"Power," Mama began as we circled our partners in the ballet studio. "Power is at the basis of every interaction, and you must make the choice between assuming the role of predator or prey."

I held my partner's eye, a girl my own age of seventeen, locked in a dangerous dance.

A game of power.

"You must know the time and place to assume control, and when to feign submission," she continued as we danced close enough that our body's almost touched. "But you must never find yourself prey, you must always be predator."

Our hands met, palms pressed together as we continued to circle one another, mirroring each other's movements down to our breathing.

"As you near your graduation ceremonies it is important to know the difference. To know your opponent as well as yourself. To know their weaknesses through sight alone," she said and I saw the spite behind my partner's blank impression; the ambition. "Upon your graduation you will be given assignments. Some of you girls may work alongside Leviathan, others will continue to serve under Stalin directly, and some of you will learn how deadly charm can be. Your body is a tool for extracting information the same as any other weapon you've been taught to wield, and some of you will utilise this more than others."

My partner must have seen a change behind my eyes, for she took on the dominant role in the dance, her eyes falling to my lips before returning back to mine. Making it clear which weapon of choice hers would be.

"But, only those whose body is a weapon in itself will proceed to graduation," Mama continued as her hands slipped to my waist and I did the same to her, dancing in an almost waltz with one another. "Soldiers rely on weapons they hold within their hands, but you are not soldiers. You are something greater. Those who graduate will have proved themselves to be a living weapon, and the rest..."

She did not need to finish, and I saw the fear behind my partners eyes as her hand tightened around my waist, subconsciously placing my body between hers and my mothers.

The music came to a sudden stop, and my mother spoke. "Adelina, Mila, come with me."

We stopped and I felt the slight tremor in her hand before she withdrew it and walked ahead of me to the room we knew too well. It was a room very few widows ever returned from. Mila's steps were hesitant, but there was little left for me to fear.

Mama remained in the doorway of the windowless room as we stepped inside, her face expressionless as she stated "One of you may leave."

And the door shut with no warning, no preparation, and we heard the sound of it locking before we faced one another, believing that we had only our bare hands to kill one another with.

Her first tactic was manipulation. "I know you want to escape, to take your sister to America." I remained silent as she stepped closer. "I've heard about the experiments, and I know I can't beat you in a fight. Not after what they've made you, but I can help you, because I know that you don't want to do this."

I waited as she moved closer, letting her believe she was in control as she took my face in her hands, her blue eyes searching mine with fabricated concern before she added a more sensual layer to her manipulations.

"We used to be friends when we were young," she reminisced, stroking my cheek. "Before... before we learned what they did to girls who relied upon others."

"We were," I said and she leant in, her lips hovering over mine.

"We used to dream of running away together," she whispered, and I placed a hand on either side of her face, a thumb carefully placed beneath where her jaw connected with her neck; poised for the kill. "We still can."

Except I felt her hand reach for the blade she had concealed inside her leotard at the same moment she moved to kiss me and before she knew what had happened her body hit the ground with a blade in hand and a broken neck.

Her eyes moved for just a moment to fix upon me, filled with nothing but fear before they went still, and her name was silently added to the evergrowing list in my mind of the girls I'd face when my time came.

When my eyes open now my wrist goes to tug against handcuffs that aren't there and I have to bring my arm down from where it's suspended above my head, rubbing the scarred skin of my wrist in habit.

Peggy's up and moving as usual, buttoning her blouse despite the early hour and I have to take a moment to breathe, to remind myself of where I am.

She knows that I have nightmares, and she knows what haunts me better than anyone, but still I struggle to tell her what I see those days I wake hyperventilating in a cold sweat. Today isn't one of those days thankfully, but still the dreams persist.

"Are you coming to church with me?" Peggy asks as I sit upright, and while I've often agreed for the sake of having an excuse to leave base, I can't deny the escape it can bring from my own thoughts.

"Well, I suppose after last night it may be warranted," I say and she shakes her head at me with a smile as it comes rushing back. "Although I am far from penitent."

"Considering you're planning on going out with him again tonight I assumed as much."

"And from the way you were looking at Steve you might as well have been doing what I was," I point out and she wears a slightly guilty smile.

"Why do you think I'm dragging myself out of bed on a Sunday morning?" she asks, even if Sundays are hardly a day of rest during war. "Come on and get dressed then before we're late."

Her soft scolding is something I've missed, and not long later we're walking together towards the main exit of headquarters before we're stopped by Howard.

"Ah there's my favourite girls," he says and Peggy and I exchange a look before turning to look at him. "Peggy, Phillips said to tell you that he needs to see you about something."

"Now?" Peggy sighs before relenting. "Alright, Ada-"

"I'll head on out anyways since I have nothing to do until they determine what to do with me," I tell her, needing an hour or two in the fresh air. "I'll be back before lunch."

"Just don't get lost or god knows you'll have a taskforce out looking for you," she warns and heads on her way, although Howard still lingers.

"Late night I heard?" he says and mild panic flashes through me at the question of just what he's heard. "You and Peggy out drinking with Rogers and his team? I'm disappointed I didn't get an invitation."

"Well, we hadn't planned on being out for as long as we were otherwise we would have brought you with us," I tell him and ask "Have you learned anything from those tanks the men brought back?"

"Oh I've found something alright, but it's gonna be a little while before I know what," he says, but there's something else on his mind. "Rogers told me about Zola and Schmidt. You alright?"

"I'm just kicking myself that I couldn't manage to kill either of them," I confess to him, barely masking my frustration. "If I walked in there as the person I was two years ago they would've both been dead, but it seems I'm out of practice."

"I'd offer my services but I'm a little worried to ask what that practice entails," he jests and reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. "But still, you know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you right?"

For the first time since the day of Erskine's death I'm faced with these feelings that I can't reciprocate, and feel a certain guilt at the fact that it isn't my inability to feel these things that's the issue with Howard. As I've discovered I am perfectly capable of feeling what he wishes I could, except it's for someone else.

"I know Howard," I assure him and step forward to hug him. I may not be able to return his attraction, but I did grow to care for him deeply during those months together in Brooklyn, and I still do. "I hope you know how much I've missed you and Peggy."

"I'm glad to hear it," he says as I pull back, not letting it linger too long. "I hope they keep you here instead of sending you back to the States, because we've both missed you."

"I hope so too," I say quietly, fear creeping in at the thought of being sent back there utterly alone to perform without even Steve as company. "I think if they tried to send me back there it would be kicking and screaming at this point."

"That's a shame," he says before grinning "I was hoping to see you in one of those pin up costumes."

I smack his shoulder. "I should be making you come to church with me for that."

He just laughs incredulously. "Since when does the assassin go to church?"

"Since I've started becoming more like you," I call out as I head down the hall and leave him to contemplate the meaning of that, however the things I want to do with Bucky are hardly what's put me into crisis.

The physical aspect of it is the only part that's easy to comprehend. It's the fear of vulnerability that leaves me reeling, the possibility of having a future in reach only for it to be torn away by whatever verdict the government gives as to what my fate will be.

And so I walk through the city until I find a cathedral that reminds me of the one I'd attend as a child in Washington. Back when I'd battle a similar crisis between the life I lived there, the life I dreamed of having, and the truth of what I was, what I am.

Again Schmidt's words play on my mind as I debate if I've become utterly delusional in daring to dream of a future that doesn't end in blood. Two years ago I would have looked at myself and seen only weakness for daring to rely on Peggy and Howard. I would have laughed at myself for daring to dream of building anything with Bucky.

I could mock myself now for dreaming of it when he would be horrified if he knew the things that I've done, any decent man would be. But, despite the shame a younger version of myself would feel looking upon me now, she would have been envious. Envious of just how much I have to lose after a lifetime of isolation.

Although my mother's voice still echoes in the back of my mind, reminding me of what I am and what I've done. Of the blood on my hands.

And so at the conclusion of the mass I find my way into the confessional, separated from the priest by a metal screen. As a child these were the only moments I could speak my truth, as censored as it would still be, and now is no different.

"Bless me Father for I have sinned," I begin, struggling to recall the words. "It's been... too long since my last confession and ironically enough since then I've committed the least sins I ever have, but the guilt's only worsened."

"And what are your sins?"

"I've hurt a lot of people in my life," I tell him, the same words I'd repeat at confessional year after year. "Violently with little remorse, but it feels as if that's begun to catch up to me. For so long I felt less than human, and now... now I feel too human."

There's silence on the other end before the priest carefully says "These violent acts, these violent compulsions, have you prayed for the strength to resist them?"

"No," I answer honestly, not knowing where I'm going with this. "Because it's necessary, I'd be dead if not for it, but that- that doesn't mean I enjoyed it." I find myself hesitating upon realising that those words are a lie. "Although sometimes I did, and I- I'm struggling to know who I am anymore without that violence."

"Do you use the word violence in the metaphorical sense?" he hesitantly asks and I clear my throat.

"Yes, yes of course Father," I quickly say. "Purely metaphorical."

"Do you have a close relationship with the holy spirit?" he asks and I find myself at a loss, but again speak honestly.

"I was baptised as a child but I don't know what I believe in. After all I've seen I look around at the world and wonder what kind of god could let this happen, but I want to believe in something," I confess and let my Russian accent slip through if only to convince myself that it's still there after so long away from the country. "I spent most of my childhood in the Soviet Union where the only god we were allowed to worship was Stalin. When I was a child the churches and monasteries were destroyed, then as a teenager tens of thousands of the clergy were murdered in Stalin's purges..."

My hands shake now and tears burn in my eyes, knowing that the blood on my hands extends far beyond the walls of the Red Room.

"Sometimes I pray the rosary simply so I can speak to a mother that listens, that doesn't beat me bloody for the slightest moment of weakness." My voice hitches in my throat and slowly my heart begins to harden again, my tears drying as I find my resolve. "A mother who didn't take away my own chance to become one someday. She haunts me. Nearly every night I see the things she did to me, the things she made me do. And every waking moment her voice is in my head, telling me that I have no place in this world... I try to shut it out and sometimes for just a moment I can... but it's always there."

"Your mother," he begins. "Do you live with her?"

"No, not anymore," I say stiffly. "She's in Russia, but she has my sister and I'm terrified for her. People have promised me that I'll be able to get her back but every day I just lose faith." I shake my head now as that guilt begins to overwhelm. "For the first time in my life I'm surrounded by people who care about me, some know more about my background than others, but they still care... and I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to convince myself that I deserve it. Not after everything I've done."

"We are all God's children, no matter our sins, and it is never too late to repent," he tells me and recites a line of scripture I'd almost forgotten "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."

I nod slowly, finding an answer in those words, even if it is not what the priest would intend. If it's never too late, it means I can keep on going for just a little longer. Then when this war is over, if I live long enough to see it, perhaps then I can give up this violence and repent for the blood I've spilled.

But for this war to end I'll have to spill a little more. I have to believe, that for the first time in my life, that I'll be doing so for the greater good.

I can dream all I want, and I still might, but Peggy's right with how she's approached her own dilemma. There's no point getting carried away until we can see the end of this war.

I could have cut the head off the snake when I was in that factory and left Hydra weakened. I could have done it if not for the fact that I've been out of practice, and that neglect meant that Schmidt and Zola escaped with their lives. That is a mistake I cannot repeat.

And so when I make my way back towards headquarters I take my time strolling through the boutique district until I spy pointe shoes within a shop window.

It almost feels like coming home.