April 1944 | Western Germany

Ada

We're outnumbered and entering our seventh hour of engagement with Hydra's forces. The greater 107th's split off to battle the reinforcing German army several miles away, but Hydra came prepared for the Howling Commandos and a complete battalion.

They've pushed us back from the offensive we'd launched into a defensive position, focused on surviving until the greater 107th can reinforce. We'd anticipated that Hydra would send the majority of their forces south when they received the news of the 107th approaching and leave their base manned by a manageable force, but we were wrong. Instead they made it appear as if the base was defended by a skeleton crew whilst hiding the bulk of their forces inside, instead co-ordinating with the Wehrmacht and sending them to meet the 107th instead.

And so here we are, holding out until those reinforcements come. Blocked from retreating and trapped between their base and a smaller nearby warehouse.

Steve covers Dernier as he attempts to set the explosives in order to blow the entrance open. Falsworth, Dugan and Morita are on the left of the building taking cover whilst Bucky, Gabe and I make our way around the right-hand side, ducking inside an alcove.

"Fuck," I rasp, my back to the wall. "We're outgunned."

"You think?" Bucky can somehow bring himself to remark and our chests are both heaving.

"This isn't looking good," Gabe says and in vain we look out into the tree line praying for the 107th, but we can still hear the gunfire from down south. "I don't know about you guys but I'm almost out of ammo."

"We all are," I breathe, having been keeping a rough track record. "There should be ammunition inside the warehouse. If we can get in then we have a chance."

"And if it's just parts?" Gabe asks and I press my lips together. He looks back out towards Steve and Dernier as an explosion sounds and curses. "It wasn't enough, the doors are too thick but it looks like he's trying another one near the hinges."

My head falls back and I look over at Bucky as bullets fire ricochets off the adjacent wall, Hydra's soldiers closing in. In all our fights we've come to a strict agreement to put our feelings aside until the fight's done, but when we look at each other now we break it. We reach for each other's hand and hold on tight.

He gives me an affirmative nod and I return it, confirming our second agreement even if it's remained unspoken. We aren't laying down our weapons, not even after the last bullet's fired. Neither of us are surrendering. Hydra won't be taking either of us prisoner.

Steve and Dernier rush around the corner just as a second explosion sounds and this time a grin spreads across Dernier's face. "That one worked."

"Alright, move!" Steve yells and Bucky echoes the order to the men around the other side of the building. "We'll cover you!"

Bucky's hand falls from mine as we reach again for our machine guns, moving behind a nearby truck and opening fire from behind it to give the other men a window of opportunity to slip inside the warehouse. Dugan, Falsworth and Morita make it inside, followed by Gabe with Steve covering him.

"Now!" Steve yells to us and we abandon position to make the dash to the open entrance and a bullet flies past my head just as Bucky pushes me in ahead of him, but we make it inside and take cover to find the lids of several crates lifted off and the men only in a state of distress.

"These are just parts, there's no weapons or ammo!" Morita yells and I curse harshly with the warehouse door blown off its hinges.

"Fuck," Bucky echoes. "Has there-"

"No, no word from the 107th," Gabe confirms and we look to see Hydra closing in.

"Defensive positions, find somewhere we can hold out until reinforcements come!" Bucky orders and they snap into action as Steve points towards a vault-like door at the back of the warehouse that's ajar. "Go!"

Bucky and I are behind Steve, covering the men as they clear whatever room's behind that door and we make our way back towards it, emptying the last rounds in our machine guns as we dash inside. The moment Steve slips inside the boys are pulling the door inwards to seal it shut and then get to work in obstructing the mechanisms that would allow them to open it from the outside.

Several of the men crack open their water flasks, inhaling what drops are left as Bucky, Steve and I look about the room to find we're inside a makeshift vault, although all that's inside is food. No doubt to be protected from the sabotage the French Resistance has been employing.

"Ada, will this hold?" Falsworth asks as we take in the obstructions they've put in the door of the vault and the work they've done to ensure the Nazis won't be able to open it from the outside. "I assume you're more familiar with these mechanisms than we are."

"I am, and yes it will hold but not if they decide to blow a hole in it with a tank or whatever else they've got in that base," I answer. "We might be able to wait them out depending on how long it takes the 107th to reinforce but where there's a will there's a way and we won't be able to wait them out for long."

"It doesn't look like this room was meant to be a vault," Dugan says and we take a look around at the concrete walls standing in contrast with the heavy vault door. "Same walls as the rest of the building, seems like they just put the door on to keep it secure but this ain't no vault."

"Which means they could blow a hole in any one of these walls," Morita says and we look at one another knowing we're running on borrowed time.

"How much ammunition does everybody have?" Steve asks and our expressions are all dire. "Damnit, send another message to-"

"Radio's shot," Gabe says, holding up the remains of the device that saved him from taking a bullet. "They received our last message but we're on our own until they're done down south."

"Fuck," I curse out, throwing the empty machine gun to the ground while Bucky begins to clam up, turning pale and sweaty at the prospect of what awaits if they decide to take us prisoner and we don't have the ammunition to end it quickly. The other men huddle around one another and begin trying to strategise while I take his hand, my voice quiet "James-"

He looks me in the eye and there's no hiding the fear in them. He isn't a man that wants to die, but he's not letting them take him prisoner again either. "If we don't get those reinforcements-"

"They'll have to get clearance from Schmidt himself before they risk blowing two supersoldiers to bits in order to get in here," I tell Bucky. "That should buy us time."

"Unless it doesn't," he says, knowing as well as I do that the order could be given any second if Schmidts nearby, but he still tries to crack a joke. "Come on Lina it's not like you to be an optimist."

"I thought I'd try something new since everyone keeps mistaking being a pragmatist for being a pessimist," I return and he manages to huff out a laugh as he looks around the room.

"Well, at least we won't die hungry."

But it's as I'm looking around the room that a metallic glint catches my eye before all faith can be lost.

"Wait- wait!" I say, a grin spreading across my face at the sight of the vent. "Buck give me a leg up."

He follows me over and does as asked, the men turning their heads to watch as he gives me a foot up to try to remove the grate only to find it screwed in. I position myself on Bucky's shoulders as I pull the smallest knife out of my belt and use the tip to methodically work the screws open until I can remove the grate.

"What do you see?" Steve asks.

"Hopefully a way out of here and back into the main part of the warehouse," I say. "The vent's small but I should fit."

"Great," Steve says as Bucky lifts me down off his shoulders and onto the ground. "You can get to the 107th and-"

"Steve the 107th got our message but they're occupied," I stress. "And they're miles from here."

"Then what?" Steve asks, knowing that I'm not just going to abandon them.

My hand comes to rest over the grenades slung around my shoulder and Bucky immediately protests. "No."

"Hold position and I'll clear us a path," I decide and the men each look at each other and then to Bucky who's shaking his head.

"Ada-"

"We either take them out or we wait in here and turn this into a siege that we won't win," I say but he isn't backing down. "The moment they bring a tank we're fucked, do you understand me?"

"Yeah, and you have three grenades and a few bullets," he argues, his voice heated. "You're one person and there's fifty men. You go out there you die-"

"I die out there or I die in here," I state. "Or worse they decide to take us prisoner and in that case I'm putting a bullet in my head either way. Leg up."

Still he hesitates and in frustration I look at Steve who lifts me up despite Bucky's protests and it's Dugan who has to step between him and Steve.

"I'll have the advantage of surprise and if I can get my hand on one of their guns then I stand a chance," I tell Steve and his face is pained with his own reluctance to allow me to do this. "I have three grenades and that's not nothing if they don't see me coming."

"Steve, you can't be seriously considering this!" Bucky yells in a way I haven't heard since that night in Italy, when he refused to leave Steve behind. "She's going to get fucking killed!"

"And that's my choice," I grit out as he pushes against Dugan, Gabe also moving to keep him from intervening. "Not yours."

"Ada, the moment we hear those grenades we're coming out to cover you," Steve says and I pull him in by the neck of his uniform, my voice deathly quiet.

"Do not let them get my body," I order him, knowing that if Hydra gets my blood then they're one step closer to replicating the serum. "And even then I will haunt you if you let the government so much as touch my body and use it for another damn experiment."

His lip quivers and I can see him debating taking whatever action necessary to stop me from going out there but he nods in respect for my decision, just as I'd done for his own almost a year ago now.

"Red," Dernier calls out to me by the somewhat ironic but appropriate nickname they've made for me over the past few months. "Take these." He passes two small explosives up to me. "You have five seconds to get clear after you flip the detonation switch."

"Ada just get the hell out of here and get back to the 107th!" Bucky orders from below and reluctantly I meet his eye as he pleads with me "We'll find another way to get out of this. Now isn't the time to play the damn hero-"

Quickly I look away and give Steve one final order. "Make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

He nods and I slip inside the vent, pushing through despite the sound of Bucky's protests and the argument breaking out between him and Steve as I disappear.

I was trained for assassinations, to take out small security forces and other threats, but I wasn't trained for this. I wasn't trained for war. In the past few months I've walked into rooms of twenty soldiers and been the only one to walk out alive, but this is a suicide mission and they all know it.

Which is why I can still hear Bucky yelling from the other room.

I make it to another grate in the vent and look down to find an officer standing below with fifty or so men. "If the bastards want to keep us out then we'll make sure it stays that way," the officer says. "Make sure that door can't open from the inside and call for them to move the tanks north so we can get in that room."

It's then someone brings out a welding tool to melt the openings of the vault door and seal them inside which means that I'm on my own. My hand shakes now as I reach for the knife to unscrew the grate.

"She made her choice!" I hear Steve yell and Bucky's voice immediately echoes through the vent.

"If she dies then so do I!" he rages and my lip quivers as I carefully remove the grate. "I'm not leaving here without her!"

"And she told me to make sure you get out of here alive which is what I'm going to do!"

I look down below before looking ahead. I could keep moving through the vent and possibly find an escape, or I could very well run into a dead end by the time they blow all the men behind that door to bits.

The moment a man below raises his radio to call for the tanks is when I take the first explosive Dernier gave me and throw it down.

Heat hits my face and I drop down from the vent onto a soldier's shoulders just as they open with machine gun. His neck's broken by the time his machine gun's in hand and I'm rolling forward behind a crate to take cover from the onslaught, but not without placing the second explosive and activating it.

A dismembered arm ends up flown in my direction and in the chaos I move around behind the crates out of the line of immediate fire to regroup and find that I've reduced the amount of targets to between thirty and thirty five.

I can hear Steve and the men trying to break through but the doors welded shut. A grenade could take out a handful of me or at least incapacitate them if I'm lucky, Dernier's explosives took out maybe fifteen combined, but that still leaves me with at least thirty men.

I wish I could tell myself that all I had to lose was my life, if that was true then this would be easy, but I've got far more to lose than that. My heart pounds in my chest and the ringing in my ears drowns out the screams of the injured men, dismembered and burnt.

My hand's steady now as I reload the machine gun and and step out behind the closest wall of men, cutting them down with a line of bullets at head height before rolling again for cover behind a crate only to have to throw myself back out into the open when a grenade lands in front of me. It explodes against the crate just as I jump overhead and I'm opening fire but not without feeling one of their own bullets graze my thigh.

My teeth grit together and I have to duck behind another set of crates for cover, bullets ricocheting where my head had been just moments before, and I go to reload only to find the machine gun empty.

"Fuck," I breathe and reach for a grenade, knowing that my pistols unfortunately don't have a fast enough rate of fire for this. I need another machine gun and if I make it out of this I'm finally going to make Howard get around to commissioning those automatic pistols I've been sketching up.

I pull the pin and throw the grenade overhead, and at the sound of the explosion I launch myself up over the crate and onto the shoulders of whichever man's closest and still standing, flipping him onto the ground and taking his machine gun for myself whilst gunning down the next closest man and using his body as a shield from the bullets fired in my direction.

But it's then a gasp's torn from my throat at the hard impact between my ribs and the gun's knocked from my hands. As promised the carbon polymer prevents the bayonet from breaking through and piercing my internal organs but the impact still fractures something. I turn back to knock away the rifle the bayonets attached to only to find myself quickly put into a headlock from behind as I have to grasp the bayonet by the blade to stop it from bein driven straight into my chest. The sharp edge slowly cuts through the palm of the glove I wear and in desperation I kick forward into the kneecaps of the attacker I'm facing, causing him to fall forward and guide the tip of the bayonet into the arm of the man holding me in the headlock.

With gritted teeth I break free, tearing the bayonet out of the soldier's arm and running it through the open mouth of the man in front before impaling the man behind him on the blade as well and twisting around with my combat knife to drive it inside the eye of the man that had me in the headlock before receiving a kick in the back of the knee from behind. My knee buckles and I take the soldier that grabs me down with me but he doesn't go without a fight. My hands grasp the barrel of the gun and I'm screaming out as he puts a knee down on my fractured ribcage. The bayonet that's attached to the rifle's at my throat and I bring my feet up to kick him off, catching the bayonet just as it slips and leaves a shallow incision across my neck.

My hand finds my sidearm and I fire the last bullets behind me at the sound of footsteps before taking the snapped off bayonet in hand and pushing off the ground onto my feet, not wasting a second before throwing myself at the approaching men. I swing up onto the shoulders of the first, burying the bayonet in the gap beneath his helmet and jaw and grabbing the loaded pistol from his hand. I throw him over me, rolling forward onto the ground and using him as a shield as I gun down the other two soldiers and take the grenade from his belt, pulling the pin with my teeth and spitting it back out before throwing it at the soldiers that storm forward and duck for cover.

It's sure as hell times like this that I wish I had a vibranium shield.

"Take the Russian bitch alive!" their commander yells and I exhale through gritted teeth as I take a magazine from the nearest dead body and reload. I'm acutely aware of the cyanide pills that sit hidden in a compartment in my breast pocket, something that no one with the exception of Howard even knows exists, especially not Bucky.

But there's no way in hell I'm being taken alive by Nazis.

I turn my head only to be met with the butt of a rifle and my body hits the ground. There's a second crack and my face scrapes the cement with the force of the impact. I try to lift myself up only for a foot to be slammed down on the back of my ankle and I choke out a curse as I reach for the back of my belt. A hand grabs me by the hair of my scalp, kindly lifting me up enough for me to be able to unsheathe my knife and bury it in their wrist in the same smooth motion. There's a scream and I throw him over my head as I roll back, pulling the knife free from his wrist to bury it in his throat.

My body aches with each and every movement as I take my last grenade and throw it at the soldiers that rush towards me before picking up the nearest machine gun. My vision's blackened and when I try to get to my feet I falter, but still press down on the trigger and don't release it until the very last bullet's been fired and then there's only the groans and wails of wounded men.

With bloody and cut hands I finally push myself to my feet, stumbling as I pick up a pistol and fire single shots into the heads of each wounded soldier as they reach for their own weapons in a last act of self defence. There's muffled yelling on the the side of the vault door when the last bullet's fired and I can hear them still trying to break it down.

Numbly I reach for the welding torch that had been abandoned and set it on the hinges of the vault door until they liquify and I take one of the nearby bayonettes to cut through before stumbling back as they can break it down. My vision's blurred and there's a rush of air as the door hits the ground and a navy form rushes towards me. I walk into Bucky at the same moment he reaches to pull me into his arms and I'm wincing out at the tightness of his embrace.

Immediately he pulls back and my face is in his hands as I stumble, unable to make out his own face with my blurred vision. His cursing's drowned out by the ringing in my ears and he gathers me up in his arms. My feet are swept off the ground and there's movement beneath me as sunlight hits my face and I'm laid on a hard surface.

Bucky's voice is panicked and through heavy lids I see his blurred form standing at the back of a truck speaking to Steve. "We need a damn nurse-"

"That is our nurse," Steve says and he looks around. "We have to get out of here in case they call in those tanks. Dernier's setting the place to blow and once that's done we'll head back to the camp west of here and rest for the night before we make the journey back to meet with Phillips. Gabe's looking for medical supplies."

"Her throat's fucking cut-"

"Buck- Bucky," Steve says as he puts his hands on Bucky's shoulders to try to keep him calm. "She's alive and she's not critical. She's taken some heavy blows but she's going to be alright. Stay with her and I'll gather up the men."

Bucky climbs back up into the long tray of the truck, one that I recognise to be one of Hydra's, and he immediately comes to my side. He gently lifts my head up and brings a flask to my lips with a slight shake of his hand.

It's only when the water hits my tongue that I realise just how dry my throat is and everything tastes like blood and smoke. His lips press against my forehead and I lean into his touch as he cups my face, finally letting myself breathe.

"Buck-"

"You're safe," he tells me and I grimace at the pain that shoots through my body the moment he tries to sit me up. "And we're going to be getting the hell out of here."

He pulls his hand back from my head and curses at the blood he finds on it, but I just assure him "The blood's already half dry."

"That's- that's not the point," he breathes in barely restrained frustration and calls out. "Gabe!"

"I've got it, I've got it," Gabe says as he climbs inside the back of the truck. "Shit, she doesn't look good."

My movements are automatic as I take the med kit from his hand and take a strip of gauze to hold to my throat while Bucky peels off his jacket and tucks it beneath my head. He takes another wad of gauze to hold to the wound at the back of my head, not yet realising my pain's coming from fractured bones.

"Don't try to move me until I tell you," I say and he meets my eyes in alarm as he brings a wet cloth to my scraped face. "I'm gonna be okay Buck, it's just- I'll heal."

Nothing seems to ease him and I let my head fall back against his jacket as the truck door slams shut and Bucky yells out "Go easy!" He looks at Gabe and says "I need alcohol and bandages for her hands, they got sliced up by one of those fucking bayonets."

It's then I see that his own fists are bloody and bruised, no doubt from trying to break down that door, but the moment I reach for his hands he pulls them away and gets to work.

In defeat I just look at the roof of the truck as he fusses over me and bandages my hands. He doesn't lecture me, but the frustrated silence might just be worse as we're transported back to the site of our last camp. By the time we reach it my body's aching, but it's nothing that I can't walk off.

"I've got it- I've got it," I try to insist as Bucky helps me up and I refuse to wince at the pressure he incidentally puts on my ribs. "Just sit me down outside."

He does as I asks and makes sure I'm comfortable before he takes a moment for himself. I'm watching as he heads to the treeline and puts a hand on the top of his head, trying to calm himself down. Steve comes over to my side, having dealt with the brunt of Bucky's panic.

"He'll be alright, he just worries."

I scoff despite the pounding in my head. "That's an understatement." But it's then I see the way he's carrying his shoulder. "He's hurt."

"Yeah, he- he took it too far trying to break the door down," Steve says and after a moment stresses "If you knew that they were sealing us in then you shouldn't have attacked when you knew we couldn't reinforce."

"I attacked because they were sealing you in and calling tanks to blow the lot of you to bits," I say and his face falls because he knows that I did what I had to do, even if it was a suicide mission. "We all made it out, that's what matters."

I steady myself on Steve's arm as I push myself to my feet and walk over to Bucky to find a limp in my step, still trying to hide the extent of my injuries. His back's to me and gently I reach out to touch his shoulder only for him to flinch.

"Let me take a look at you-"

He shakes me off. "I'm fine."

"Buck?" I say at the defensiveness in his voice. "Why are you-"

His words are sharp. "I said I'm fine."

I raise my eyebrows in pure bewilderment at how curtly he's speaking to me.

"James," I chastise and he hangs his head. "Why are you acting like this?"

"I-" he begins and shakes his head, looking over towards the men who quickly find ways to keep themselves occupied. "You shouldn't have had to put yourself in that position because we made a bad call."

And what he infers has me pursing my mouth. "We being?"

"The team."

"And am I not on that team?" I ask and he presses his lips together as my voice raises. "Was I not extremely particular about every detail of that plan?" He won't look at me and I make myself breathe in deeply but it only hurts. "Believe me when I say it pains me more than anyone to say this, but it was out of our control." He remains quiet and my words are bitter. "We made it out, that's all that matters."

I turn on my heel to leave him until he remarks "But now you're mad at me?"

"Yeah, I am," I say, the pounding in my head only growing worse as words come spilling out. "How many months have we been out here?"

"Four."

"Four months and you still refuse to treat me like an equal," I spit out and he scoffs now in pure disbelief.

"An equal?" he repeats back, genuinely believing that I'm joking before searching my face. "Is that really what you're making this about? Ada, jesus christ you know that I worship the ground you walk on and now you're trying to make it about that?"

Something in his tone has me scoffing back, pressure building in my head. "Oh don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like this is all in my head when it's a fact that you and the rest still treat me differently despite the fact I'm as physically strong as any of you," I say and he exhales in frustration, looking up to the sky and shaking his head. "I might not look it but you know damn well that I'm the most capable person on this team but you're still throwing fits at the thought of me taking the same risks that you all do!"

It's then that he explodes. "It was a suicide mission!"

"And I pulled it off!"

The camp falls silent but no one dares to intervene, not even Steve.

"That's not the point Ada!" he argues and I set my jaw, crossing my arms over my chest as he squares up with me. "I told you to get out of there and you wouldn't listen!"

"I'm not your wife James," I say harshly. "You don't get to give me orders!"

"Well you still said yes didn't you?"

"Looks like we jumped the gun with that one huh?" I spit back and regret the words the moment they leave my mouth. "James, I didn't mean that-"

"Yeah you did," he says roughly and marches off into the forest without another word.

"Buck wait." I take off after him but not without considerable strain, refusing to reveal the limp in my step. "James, stop."

"Sorry, but you aren't my wife," he calls back and frustration again sets in. "You don't get to order me about."

"Why are you-"

"I'm acting like this because I love you!" he yells and I stop in my tracks at the tears in his strained voice as he spins back around to face me. "What else do you want me to say!"

My voice isn't as strong as I'd like it to be, more desperate than demanding. "That you respect me enough to let me make my own fucking choices!"

"Fuck," he breathes, dragging a hand over his face before reaching for me and I jolt as he grabs my face, not roughly but firmly enough that I can't turn away from him as he raises his voice in a way that he never has before, not towards me. "I thought you were dead! Do you understand me?" I remain silent and he shakes me just enough that my mouth curls into a grimace until his voice breaks. "I thought you were dead."

There's tears in his eyes and quickly he removes his hands from me at the tears that fill my own, unable to find any words. Even if I could I may as well be mute.

"I'm sorry and I love you and I want you to live long enough to be my wife," he tells me and I wrap my arms around myself. "I'm sorry." He moves to hold me and I don't step away until my body physically recoils at being touched. "You're bleeding"

"Don't- don't fucking touch me!" I yell when he tries to examine the wound on my head and he stops in his tracks, startled. "I'll be fine."

I have to brace myself on a tree to keep myself upright as my body sways, dark spots filling my vision and pain shooting through the nerves in my head, vaguely recalling a crack, but the movement sends main down my leg and I feel a rush of blood.

"Is that- were you shot?" he exclaims at the sight of the bloody bullet hole in the leg of my suit. -"Ada"

"It just grazed," I dismiss and just want to get him away from me. "Just leave me alone."

He steps closer. "You're bleeding, just let me help you-"

"Just go!" I yell for reasons I can't even comprehend and he shakes his head but finally does as I ask him.

"You're fucking crazy," he dismisses and starts walking back towards camp to calm down before more damage can be done on either side.

"Love you too sweetheart!" I call out and he's muttering under his breath as he disappears into the distance. Only when he's finally out of sight do I let myself collapse down to the ground and my head falls against the trunk of the tree, pounding. A shaky hand comes up to my ear and when it comes away there's blood.

"Shit," I breathe and let my head fall back while my legs come up to my chest, holding one of my combat knives tight in my bandaged hand as I wait for whatever's injured to heal. Even then it's not the damage to my body that leaves me sick to my stomach with regret.

Tears slip down my face and I slam my head into the tree as if that could knock me out but it's in vain.

~

Bucky

I don't know how the hell we ended up here.

Ninety percent of the time we're fine, we operate professionally and don't have any issues. Nine percent of the time we might butt heads or disagree but we sort it out. This is the one percent of the time that everything goes to hell.

It wasn't that long ago I wondered how she was so composed, how she was so mature and calm for someone that's just twenty one years old. In the back of my mind I often wondered if that composure was an act she was putting on that she wasn't even aware of.

Turns out I was right.

She's had her moments, we both have, but not like this. Not when a situation's been this dire. The moment she gets a drop of blood on her something changes in her eyes. At first I'd called it compartmentalisation, but I'm starting to see that she wasn't wrong when she told me she was far from an angel.

One could say that Satan was an angel once too, but it doesn't change the fact that she's still mine.

Twenty minutes passes and I grow anxious at leaving her out there while she's injured despite the fact the men have secured the area, but if she doesn't want me there then I'm not going to push her. Not again. I went too far when I grabbed her. I panicked and I just wanted to keep her from walking away so I could talk some sense into her, but I lost it and it was enough to shut her down.

We've had our fights these past few months, but never like this. Never with the cursing and yelling and insults, but I've seen it coming for a while now that we were going to end up here eventually.

It still doesn't mean that I love her any less. I just want her to let me help her.

I have a cigarette between my fingers when Steve approaches but he doesn't comment on it, instead he tells me "I'll be referring her for a medal for what she did."

"Yeah because that's what every husband wants to come home to, medals," I say before realising that if I lost her today I wouldn't even be able to call myself one because we aren't married. "Do you think we'd be discharged if we eloped?"

"She's not speaking to you and you're thinking about eloping?" He catches my annoyance and says "Buck, even if the two of you aren't discharged she'll be taken off the team and given an assignment that means you probably won't see her until the war's done." I remain silent and he asks "Do you know where she went?"

"It's Ada," I say and he doesn't ask anymore questions. "She gets mad, she goes to blow off steam and I don't ask questions." Even then I can't shake the worry in my chest at how erratic she was and I come to the conclusion that her injuries are worse than she let on. "There was blood in her hair and then I could have sworn she was bleeding from the ear. I knew she took a hit to the head but it- it's got to be bad."

His face turns grave. We've had a few engagements where she's sustained minor injuries but we learned quickly that a hit to the head causes worse symptoms than just a pounding head when it comes to Ada. She becomes uninhibited, erratic, violently reactive. The first time it happened it scared Steve and I enough that we got in contact with Howard of all people and he checked her medical records to confirm that there's a history of it dating back to her time in the asylum.

"She's walking around with a cut fucking throat and a head wound and we don't even know where she is," I mutter and get to my feet, pacing. "I still can't believe you let her go out there."

"It's Ada, you know that there's no stopping her and considering they were about to call in tanks she made the right decision," he says and I press my lips together at that revelation. "As much as you might hate to hear it."

"You know," I begin with a slight laugh. "A few months ago I couldn't believe how rational she was when it came to all of this-"

Steve cuts me off with little apology. "I told you she's got a temper on her but you didn't listen."

"I knew she had a temper-"

He scoffs and I bite the inside of my mouth.

"You saw her have one or two blues with the colonel and run her mouth, but outside of that you only ever saw her when she was happy and loved up and riding a high from getting what she wanted," he says and I want to argue, but I can't. "I knew her when she was in a constant state of wanting to kill anyone who looked at her the wrong way with her bare hands. I spent months with her on the road and I warned you what she gets like but you just thought I was just being judgemental because she's Russian."

"Yeah well, maybe I turned a blind eye to a thing or two," I can finally admit now, as guilty as it makes me feel.

"The fact she's an assassin?"

"No, not that," I say a little too defensively and finally let my concerns spill out. "The fact that she never had it together as much as she wanted me to believe. She'd tell me that they broke her and then she'd turn it back on me, saying how proud she was of me and how strong I was. She focused on helping me to distract both of us from the fact that she was barely holding it together. Then we got out here and the moment she's got a gun in hand it's like a switch and god help anyone who tries to tell her no."

He nods slowly. "And you're just now learning that you aren't exempt from that?"

"Yeah," I say, defeated. "It seems so." Finally I set my jaw and look out towards where Ada and I went. "I'm going to go find her, it's getting late."

He nods his head and I take my rifle before I start trekking through the forest, praying that she hasn't gone far. My shoulder aches and I'm half convinced it's dislocated from trying to break that door down, but that can wait until I've got Ada back with me.

One thing I've learned in these past months is how much she hates anyone fussing and worrying over her, as if she's afraid of anyone realising that she could be hurt or in pain. I've heard enough about her mother to know why. Even just knowing part of what was done to her if she even flinched makes me sick and god I just wish she'd let me help her instead of pushing me away. I thought that I'd be able to make progress with her, that she'd let me in, but the longer we're out here the more reluctant she is to show any sign of weakness to anybody, even me.

It's not long before I smell cigarette smoke and I exhale in relief. I doubt she brought water or even bullets with her, but of course she'd still have damn cigarettes stashed somewhere. There's movement in the distance and her red figure blends in with the dead leaves and foliage scattered around. It's spring but not much grows where chemical weapons and bombs are dropped.

She's walking towards me, swaying with each step and stops with a slight stumble when she sees me. She has a knife in hand and slowly I raise my hands, there's blood on the blade but it's dry. No doubt from the attack earlier. She looks terrible and the first thing I want to do is sit her down and check her over but I know how that would end.

Considering the current circumstances I decide that mildly annoying her is a better way to start this rather than immediately fussing over her. Especially when she threw every damn accusation she could at me. She said a lot of hurtful things, but I think the worst was questioning just how much respect I have for her.

Especially when I know she'd likely knock me out cold if I tried to pull of a suicide mission like she did. She's a damn hypocrite, but so am I when I try to tell her that I'd lose it like that if anyone else walked out to face fifty soldiers.

I love her, and despite all the rules we've set in place about putting that aside in the field we both know that they're all bullshit.

"You done acting crazy?"

"Ublyudok," she calls me. Bastard.

"Love you too sweetheart."

A shadow of a smile comes to her scraped face and I extend my hand to her. She sheathes the knife and takes my hand as she half stumbles over and sits down next to me on a nearby rock. Blood's matted in her chin length hair and I can't tell if it's coming from her ears or the wound on the back of her head, something tells me both.

For a moment neither of us talk. Neither of us move to apologise first, likely because we don't want to acknowledge what happened, and she lets go of my hand to light another cigarette.

"How'd you find me?" she finally asks and her voice is weak.

"How do you think?" I ask and take the cigarette from her hand, drawing a breath from it. "If I can't hear you cursing us out in Russian I can sure as hell smell you from a mile away."

"I'm not cursing all of them out," she says and takes it back, her lips settling over where mine were.

"Just me then?" She glances at me in annoyance and neither of us want to start a fight, but I'm not as good as she is at pretending that everything's fine. "Have you calmed down enough for me to look at you?"

"Diagnosing your fiance with hysteria is not the way to get into her good graces."

"Technically I called you crazy," I correct and she raises her eyebrows. "But, from what I'm hearing the wedding's not off then?" I jest to try to hide the hurt in my voice but know that she can see right through me.

"No, it's not," she says meekly and bites the inside of her cheek. "Unless you want it to be."

There's a pang in my chest and I reach for the hand that sits beside her, covering it with mine. "Do you think I'd have come to find you if I wanted that?"

"Yes, because even if you're angry you aren't going to let me wander too far when I'm injured," she says and she isn't wrong, but I don't let her get away with it.

"Yes, and also because I love you," I stress and she lowers her eyes. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," she croaks, bruises starting to show, and I try to take a closer look at her while she isn't watching me. "But it's not something a doctor could heal faster than my own body can."

"How bad was the hit to the head?" I ask and she's quiet. "You can't just walk that off Lina-"

"Well clearly I can because I just did."

I sigh and hang my head. "God I wish you'd just let me take care of you."

Frustration seeps into her voice again. "I'm sick of you worrying about me."

"And you don't worry about me?"

"Of course I do," she says and finally looks over at me with those damn eyes of hers. "But you need to trust me to do my job just like I trust you to do yours."

"And I do-"

"No, you don't because despite everything you still haven't comprehended what I was trained to do," she says and finally she says what she's been skirting around since we met.

"I'm a trained soldier," I say, repeating the same sentence I've said before. "How is that any different?"

"And that's exactly what I mean James," she argues. "I'm a trained killer, so it's very different."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "And what do you think a soldier is?"

"Not an assassin."

"See, now you're just arguing for the sake of arguing."

She laughs in frustration. "Jesus Christ, you're never going to get it are you?"

"I get it, I just don't care," I say and somehow she finds that pill harder to swallow. "You know, I found your medals when I was trying to get out your ring size." Her face falls and she suddenly turns sheepish. "Took me a while to figure out what they were, but eventually I put it together after seeing Lenin's face on some currency when we were east of here. Figured they don't give those medals out too often."

"Stalin gave me that medal himself you know," she casually mentions. "And personally thanked me for a job well done."

Any theories I'd had about any conflicts she could have participated in are shot to hell and so I ask "Who did you kill?"

"Leon Trotsky," she answers and that's a name I actually recognise. "He was the General of the Red Army before his exile and was the man who should have succeeded Lenin as leader of the Soviet Union, but Stalin had other plans. I was just shy of eighteen when I was given two of those medals, Order of Lenin and Hero of the Soviet Union"

"And the star?"

"That was just for another one the year before," she says dismissively, clearly not thinking that much of it in comparison. "I killed a lot of people Buck, mostly generals and officers, but also a lot of people that were innocent."

"I know," I tell her and see the weight of it on her shoulders. "But after being out here surely you've gotta know that it doesn't change the fact that I love you and we both know that you didn't have a choice in it." She refuses to look at me and I push that bit further. "And also, for the record, I'm not your mother. I'm not going to hurt you for flinching and neither is anyone else, so you've got to let this defensive crap go and just let someone help you without fighting back."

She almost winces and it's clear that she doesn't want to talk about it, but if we don't now then we're just going to end up in another fight sooner rather than later.

"You can't just leave me in peace can you?" she sighs and I shake my head with little apology.

"You were walking back to find me, so you can't tell me now that you want to be alone."

"My head hurts," she pleads with me in an attempt to shut me up, but I don't let her off that easy.

"Great, now will you let me take a look at you?"

"No," she immediately says and I scoff.

"It's funny, you never let me get away with any of my crap," I remark and she lowers her head into her hands. "Won't let me wallow or pretend to be just like you, the one who's so damn detached that she can't deal with actually feeling something instead of just dissecting it like a damn psychiatrist."

She looks at me incredulously. "Detached?"

"By the way I learned all this shrink talk from you," I remind her and she purses her mouth. "Meanwhile you're the one throwing a fit because I'm worried about you."

"You were the one that pushed me off first when I tried to check on you," she reminds me and looks at the wounded shoulder I'm nursing. "And also I'm sorry if I have a knee jerk reaction to bad emotions considering I had a shit mother and a fucked up childhood, but I know how to take care of myself."

"You know, if you were as patient with your own crap as you are with mine we wouldn't be in this situation. I'm sorry for trying to keep you from going out there but..." finally I say the words I've been holding back for months now. "I can't just shut it all off like you can."

"Quite the observation, Sergeant," she says with a slight laugh and she jolts as I take the cigarette out of her hand the moment I notice the lit end brush her palm.

"And you're sure as hell not doing that."

Despite the fact I'm all but pleading with her to let me in she still remains defiant. "Can't let me have anything can you?"

"Aside from being patient when you're being erratic?" She narrows her eyes but I don't back down either. "I didn't use the word hysterical because god knows you hate that one."

"You do realise I spent a year in a psychiatric asylum don't you?"

"Yeah, which is why I take it seriously when something's not right. You've had your moments, hell we all have, but not like this," I say and look at her. "What's going on Lina?"

She goes to light another cigarette but I snatch the lighter out of her hand, forcing her into talking and finally she manages words. "I was afraid."

"Yeah, we were all afraid."

She shakes her head, tears in her eyes.

"I knew that if I screwed up you were all dead," she says thickly. "I- I'd never been so damn scared. I'd never be able to live with myself if you were killed on my watch."

"You saved us," I force myself to admit. "Don't beat yourself up over something you stopped."

She looks at me, a tear escaping the corner of her eye. "I couldn't compartmentalise, not properly. Usually I do. Usually I don't worry about you or myself or anyone else. I focus and get the job done and don't let myself feel things like fear. Not today."

"Yeah, it means you're human," I say and she finally lets me take her into my arms. "It's shocking I know."

She manages a strained laugh. "All of this used to be so easy before I had people to lose."

"Do you think I'm not constantly scared to death about you getting hurt or worse?" I ask her and she can't quite meet my eye. "You and Steve and all the others. It's called having a heart."

"I miss the days when I didn't have one," she says and I rub her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. "Damn you Barnes for doing this to me."

"You aren't gonna catch me apologising for it," I say and gently turn her face towards me. "Now, can you let me be glad that you're alive?"

She nods and leans in as I bring her close, resting her forehead against mine. "I'm sorry for being cruel."

"And I'm sorry for raising my voice at you."

"I hope you know just how much I love you and how much I want to be your wife," she says and a nagging fear in the back of my mind eases. "I just- I was being cruel and I'm sorry."

"It's alright, you aren't the only one who hasn't been themselves," I admit and she looks at me with a fond expression.

"You're too good for me, James Barnes."

"You're the one who's saved my life more times than I can count," I tell her, holding her face and stroking her cheek. "My screwed up guardian angel."

That manages to make her laugh, but she also finally lets her guard down.

Maybe that honeymoon phase wore off two weeks into being deployed together when frustration and sleep deprivation set in and I had to settle one too many fights between her and Steve. We couldn't play house anymore and had to face the music.

In those early days she was still this mystery to me. This untouchable thing but she's real now as she looks up at me. She's past pretending to be perfectly composed and righteous. Past having the perfect answers to every problem and being this symbol of peace.

She's raw and unfiltered and I love her more for it.

Even if she might be slowly driving me crazy.

"I was so fucking scared," she says quietly and I kiss her forehead.

"I know angel."

I've seen her through countless firefights by now. She's unwavering, but today she wasn't. She's always been strict about compartmentalising in the field, putting our feelings aside until the job's done. She broke that rule today for the first time.

"I don't like feeling scared," she breathes roughly. "Sometimes I really hate working in a team because my life isn't the only one on the line. When I'm on my own I don't have to worry about that. I just- I miss being on my own sometimes. I don't have to deal with anyone fussing over me."

"You weren't the only one that was terrified Ada," I say, still able to feel the pounding in my chest. "It was a suicide mission and when I heard the bullets stop...I thought I'd lost you. Whether you were dead or captured I didn't know-"

"You know that I'd kill myself before ever letting them take me again," she says and my lip quivers slightly at the joke she tries to make. "And besides, maybe then you wouldn't worry anymore"

I hold her face and look her in the eye as I make clear to her "I know your life might not mean much to you, but it means everything to me."

Tears fall freely down her face now and a moment later she's in my arms, clutching me with the same desperation that I hold her with, sobs catching in her throat in a sudden change of composure. My hand gently brushes over the back of her head and that simple check confirms that she took more than just a simple blow.

She grasps my arm and says "I love you, James."

"I love you too, Lina."

She chokes up as she says "And I really am so, so sorry for what I said."

"I know baby," I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her for as long as she'll let me.

"It's just- you and me..." she begins, trying to get the words right this time. "It all happened so fast and I'm still trying to find that middle ground between being back in Brooklyn and being here."

"So am I," I tell her, relieved that I'm not the only one. "But we'll find it and we should be going back to London at the end of the week. When we get back we should get some conditional leave and we're going to get a hotel room and just take time away from all of this."

That manages to ease her and she pulls back to look at me with a familiar gleam in her eye. "Or better yet I can convince Howard to let us shack up in one of his apartments that he doesn't use."

"You mean the ones with a mirror above the bed?" I scoff, remembering the tour we received, but she only looks intrigued and suddenly so am I. "It's nice to know that you're still thinking about sex even when you're mad at me."

"Baby my mind's always at least half way in the gutter whenever I'm looking at you," she assures me. "At least we know that if we can't stand each other in a few years that the sex will still be good."

I laugh hard enough it hurts my shoulder. "You and me are gonna be just fine, you've just gotta stop being so damn stubborn."

Her voice is filled with nothing but adoration. "You first."

I smile in relief and lean in to kiss her but stop when my lips just brush hers. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

"I know, but you're hardly innocent in that either."

"So, we drive each other crazy," I compromise. "Because we both know we'd lose it if anything went wrong."

She nods in agreement and manages half a smile. "Yeah."

My lips meet hers and I taste blood and smoke. She sighs softly and leans into the kiss, her lips parting and letting my tongue slip past to caress hers. The simple touch of her fingers pushing back the hair that falls across my brow sets my body alight and she's not the only one that's lightheaded as I tug her closer until she winces from the contact and immediately I pull back.

"Ada-"

"I'll heal," she assures me and I don't argue with her, instead electing to hold her with a lighter touch as she rests her head on my shoulder and speaks quietly. "I really would lose my mind if anything happened to you Buck. I just- Ilove you so much."

"I love you too," I say, my heart clenching at her words. "So, can you blame me for losing it when I didn't think I'd see you alive again?"

"No, I can't." I take her hand in mine and kiss it softly, her knuckles somehow in better shape than mine. My thumb strokes over her ring finger and she murmurs "I miss my engagement ring."

Pride swells in my chest and I ask her "You know what I miss? Having our own bed and a door that locks."

"That is a close second," she says with a smile and ponders. "I think our own bathroom would be third."

"Oh yeah," I say with a laugh, maybe having overlooked just how hard it is to keep the mystery when we're out in the field together but thank god she's a trooper. "Hell, I might put that one first."

"I think I'm with you there," she admits and we share a laugh. With her finally at ease I decide to try my luck.

"Can you let me take a look at you now?"

In defeat she nods and admits "I think I have a few fractured ribs."

"What from?" I ask and she hesitates before giving her answer.

"A bayonet," she says and I'm careful not to react. "Turns out Howard was right, the carbon polymer can stop a bayonet from piercing through but it still managed to lodge itself between my ribs."

"And your throat?" I ask, having seen the soldiers she'd taken out with the bayonet, and her answer's expected.

"Bayonet as well."

"And your head?"

She's more reluctant to answer now, but she forces herself to be honest. "They tried to bash my head in with the butt of a rifle."

"Oh Ada," I breathe and she offers a comforting smile. "Jesus Christ baby-"

"It's alright, I got to test some of those explosives but I need to get a new set of pistols made with a higher rate of fire."

I can only sigh. "Good to know you've gotten something out of this."

She reaches to pat my cheek with a bandaged hand. "And I'll also be getting gloves made out of the carbon polymer as well, and adding on to the neckline of the suit."

Her face is grazed and her eyes tired as I tilt my head to kiss the palm of her hand, reminding myself that she's here. She's mostly alright and she's going to be coming home with me.

"Please tell me that you know how much we all respect you?" I say, needing one more thing settled, and she looks down in slight shame now.

"I know, I just- I wasn't in my right mind."

She struggles to put it in words but I squeeze her hand, knowing what she means. She's combative at the best of times. She sees the slightest potential attack and immediately goes on the offence. Except when she has these type of injuries she misinterprets concern as being an attack.

"And as for the rest," I continue, struggling for the right words. In the end I decide not to lie and to tell her what we both know. "You're a woman and because of that we do treat you differently, but it's not because we think you're any weaker or lesser. We're extra cautious about what situations we throw you into because you are a woman and we've talked about this enough that you know what could happen if we throw you into a room full of soldiers alone. Especially when it was a suicide mission like today."

That might not have been my first worry when she disappeared into that vent, I was more preoccupied with the thought of her getting shot dead, but the longer we tried to break down that door the more possibilities began to set in. Even if that's a risk she's prepared to take I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to keep her from being in that position.

"You know that I'd kill myself before letting that happen," she says quietly and I nod slowly, that having been the possibility that terrified me the most after I heard the muffled order to take her alive.

"I know," I say and neither of us need to verbalise the fact that I probably would as well. That we'd both pull the trigger to spare ourselves from being taken prisoner by them. "Why do you think I was so afraid?"

"You weren't the only one, Buck." She blinks away tears and brings me into her arms. "We said to hell and back... just know that I'm not going anywhere without you."

Tears fill my own eyes as I bury my head in her shoulder and breathe her in. "Promise?"

"Promise," she says, neither of us comprehending in the moment just how far we'll take that promise. "To hell and back, in sickness and in health, til death do us part... you aren't getting rid of me any time soon."

"Saying vows already?" I manage to tease and her lips brush my forehead. "Do I need to steal one of those trucks and find the nearest church? Because I will."

"I know sweetheart, but first," she continues, pulling back with a look I know too well. "Speaking of in sickness and in health, will you finally let me look at your damn shoulder?"

"Yes ma'am," I say and she smiles softly. "As long as you let me take care of you."

"Deal," she says and kisses me to seal it, only breaking away when there's the break of a branch and she pulls her pistol without hesitation only for us to see Steve in the distance who isn't phased by it at this point.

"We've gotta get moving to catch our flight back to London," he calls out, not doubt almost as relieved as I am that we've been able to sort this out. "Or do you need a moment?"

I look at Ada and relief washes over me. It's finally time to get out of this damn place.

"Give us five to get ourselves sorted and then we'll meet you back at camp," Ada says and he nods, giving us another moment alone. She looks at me and her eyes are brighter than they've been in weeks. "Now, that shoulder."

~

London

Ada

My body's laid down on the bed and Bucky's kneeling between my legs. My legs hang over his shoulders and my back's arching off the mattress as his fingers slip inside me, curling inwards.

Out of everything we've done that's the one sensation that had taken a few attempts to grow used to without my body confusing it for something more painful, but I was determined to overcome that physical response and he was patient, and now... god he knows how to make me forget everything but his name.

A cool breeze blows through the window across my naked chest and he reaches up to cup my breast, sighing as his thumb rolls over my hardened nipple. His lips seal over my clit as his fingers continue working inside me and he has to press a forearm down over my hips to keep them pinned in place as I cry out, glancing up at the mirror that hangs on the ceiling and the sight alone of him kneeling is enough to send me over the edge.

His mouth works me through it until I reach down to bring his lips to mine, tasting myself on his tongue. He has me moaning into his mouth as his fingers continue working inside me, determined to wring the last bit of stress out of my body.

"James," I breathe, fingers sliding into his short hair and hips bucking as his palm presses against my clit. "Fuck, I need you-"

"That's it baby," he murmurs, nipping just below my ear. "And there's no rush, we've got all night." He smiles at the feeling of me clenching around his fingers. "I'm gonna take my time with you."

I bring his lips back to mine and he's painstakingly patient as he brings me to that peak again, not reaching for himself until he's satisfied that I'm more than wet for him. He runs his hand along his length, coating himself with my slick before pushing in, sighing into my mouth.

"Fuck, I've been desperate for you," he breathes and begins to move his hips, eyes pressed shut in concentration and lips parted above me. "Needing you like this, thinking 'bout when I can have you for more than five minutes in the back of one of those damn trucks."

I smile against his lips. "We managed to do a lot in those five minutes."

He grins back against mine. "Damn right we did."

His forehead falls against mine and despite all his words about taking his time he picks up the pace, hitting something deep within me with every thrust that his fingers couldn't reach. He gasps out as my fingernails drag along his back and the scratches make a pretty sight in the mirror.

"Need you closer," I rasp and he obeys, shifting so his body's flush with mine and I can hold him in my embrace. "That's it."

His fingers lace with mine and he kisses me deeply with an intimacy we haven't been able to afford in the field, not when we're always on guard, but finally it's just the two of us.

"I don't want to wait any longer," he murmurs against my lips between panting breaths. "I wanna marry you." He kisses my neck, nipping just below my ear. "Call you my wife." His hand slips down between our bodies and my head falls back with a whimper. "Have you like this every damn night."

"Fuck," I rasp at the angle of his hips and he feels my body's response to his words with the clench of my body around his length. "Buck-"

"I love how that rhymes," he says and I laugh before gasping out as he presses down on my clit at the same moment he hits something hard inside of me. "God I love the sound of that too."

"Ublyudok," I rasp and he just grins.

"Love you too sweetheart."

He kisses me, pressing the head of his cock right where I need him as his fingers move in time with the thrust of his hips and I could almost sob from the pleasure that takes hold of my body. His hands and lips caress me through the aftermath until I become aware that he's still hard inside me, seeming to have an almost inhuman stamina both in the field and in bed.

Especially in bed.

"Don't stop," I murmur and he kisses my jaw as I urge him on.

"You sure baby?"

I nod and kiss him back before shifting so I'm laying on my side and he pulls out to readjust himself behind me, lowering me until I'm on my forearms to take as much of the pressure off my ribs as possible considering they're still healing.

"Does it hurt like this?" he asks and I shake my head, tilting my chin back to meet his lips. "Tell me to stop if it hurts okay?"

"Okay," I repeat back and when he slips back inside of me I'm feeling everything but pain as I lay my head down on the mattress. "God you feel good like this."

His hand reaches to cover mine, grasping it as he takes care in making love to me like this, always that tad more loving whenever it's in a position where we can't easily look each other in the eye. Always letting me feel that love whenever I can't necessarily see it, and certainly letting me hear it with the sweet and filthy things he whispers in my ear until he spills himself inside of me and the sheets are muffling my cries.

It's past midnight when we're laying together in the pale moonlight, limbs tangled and fingers tracing each other's bodies. Truly at peace.

His eyelashes flutter against my skin as he presses soft kisses across my face, slightly distracted from his Russian lessons but still determined. Teaching him how to read it may need to wait until our lives are a bit calmer but he's been quick in learning to speak it.

"You know, we could get married twice," he proposes and I'm listening. "Find some priest god knows where and say our vows and then do it all again with the paperwork when the war's done so I can all you moya zhena."

My wife.

"Very good my love," I praise, kissing the bridge of his nose. "God knows I can't wait to call you moy mush."

My husband.

"You sound so cute saying that."

I laugh and kiss him.

"Moy mush."

He blushes and kisses my empty hand since my engagement ring is safe back in Brooklyn. "I adore you."

"Not as much as I adore you," I say, cupping his face.

"I could argue, but I won't," he says, nuzzling into me. "And I'm being serious about eloping."

"I know sweetheart," I breathe. "And I think I'm about to take you up on it."

My body's been recovering from our last mission but emotionally I've never felt this exhausted. We'd never fault like that before and even now I'm still struggling with the guilt of the things I'd said in the heat of the moment, but he has the patience of a saint and we're both here now.

I want to marry him and leave all of this behind, as impossible as it is. The thought of marrying in some half abandoned church in the middle of Europe and keeping it a secret has never felt so appealing. I'd never come quite so close to not making it out of a fight and I'm beginning to realise that it may just be now or never.

"They're saying that the war might end within the next year depending on how long Germany and Japan hold out," he says, both of us growing ever more eager to see the end of this.

"Either way, our work should be done once Germany surrenders."

"I still think you should look at university when this is done," he says and as genuine and sweet as his support is I know that it's not the path I'm meant to take.

"I'd be arrested on the accusation of spreading Marxism to all the innocent American students," I jest and he laughs with me. "There's no way they're letting me anywhere near a university."

"Alright, that might be true."

"But I've got a trust to put my sister through university, and then we'll have more than enough to send our kids to wherever they want to go," I say and he holds me closer with an ever growing tenderness. "Hell, we could even send them over here to London if they wanted."

"We've just gotta work it out so our kids will be the same age as Steve and Peggy's," he says, his one and only condition. "That's if he ever works up the courage to ask her for that dance."

"So we might be waiting a while then?"

"We'll get them together," he assures me, settling back into the mattress. "Like we've all said, when the war ends then we can get on with the rest of our lives."

"Yeah," I say a little numbly and he brings me in closer, able to read me better than I'd like.

"You miss her."

"It's been two years since that day on the train," I tell him. "Two years since I've seen her and I... I'm scared I never will again."

"You will," he says gently, kissing my forehead. "It might not be until the war's done, but we'll work out a way to get her to the United States."

I nod, but still say "I just worry it'll be too late by then."

He rubs my arm and says "Steve knows that our work won't be done until she's in America, and if she's anything like you then she'll hold out until then."

My stomach sinks upon remembering the widows words back in Brooklyn. "That's the thing Buck... she's nothing like me."

"You raised her," he reminds me without missing a beat. "When the time comes we'll get her out and bring her home. I promise."

I force a smile and tuck my head into the crook of his neck, unable to shake the nagging feeling that's been in the pit of my stomach ever since that last night in Brooklyn.

That I'm running on borrowed time.

A/N: Since Bucky has so little screentime in The First Avenger I've been trying to bridge the gap between the Bucky we saw so briefly in that movie with the one we saw in TFATWS to find a man that's protective, loving and a little less traumatised but still a bit abrupt and childish/petty at times, because lets face it, Bucky really was a little shit (affectionate) at the best of times during TFATWS and that didn't come out of nowhere ("looking strong John!").

We also saw in TFATWS how his trauma responses made him lash out and I believe that would have very much still applied to 1940s Bucky. At this point in time he's traumatised and has been put back into an environment where those traumas are constantly being triggered with the threat of capture which will influence his reactions, whilst Ada's own trauma responses and brain damage from her conditioning impact her own.

As such we have a very irrational Ada and a very desperate Bucky, and there's some fighting between our love birds which will not be getting better any time soon. In fact it will be getting much worse with much higher stakes. This chapter is mostly action, angst and smut since smut will become quite scarce very soon. Next chapter the plot of this new arc moves forward and it all begins to unravel very quickly. If you've seen Agent Carter you'll be familiar with the plot surrounding Howard and Finow which next chapter will centre around.