A/N: Just a content warning. There will be discussions of rape, prostitution and forced pregnancy in this chapter in regards to prisoners of war and the Red Room. I've provided my own background for the introduction of the graduation ceremony that seems to be the most likely circumstances that would have led to it being implemented from what Natasha says in Age of Ultron.

We walk side by side to the meeting, and I struggle to mask the panic in my voice as I ask "Who'll be attending?"

"Several representatives from the government along with one of the doctors who had overseen your treatment during your imprisonment," she informs me and I wince. "Phillips has put the meeting together although I can't say if he'll take your side or theirs. If Erskine were alive he would have been there due to overseeing your role in Project Rebirth, and so Howard will be attending in his place as he was one of the leading scientists. Steve will be there and has used your rescue of Sergeant Barnes to justify his presence at the meeting as a spokesman for the 107th."

Despite my worry over what he'll hear I find relief in knowing that I'll have Howard and Peggy there with me, the two people who already know what's in my file. "What's my standing legally?"

"Legally you are still serving a suspended life sentence for treason and espionage," she says and my stomach's in knots. "Your assistance with the SSR and involvement with USO has been in accordance with your probation. It's my understanding that if you follow orders until the end of this war that you will receive an official pardon. Ever since your recruitment the conditions have been vague, but I dare say that today an official agreement will be drafted and signed."

She doesn't need to tell me what will happen if I don't follow orders and we come across Howard in the hallway who says "Rogers and his friend are inside, if this goes to plan you should be flying out with them to the front next week."

"I can only pray," I breathe and he offers his arm but I stand on my own as we walk inside the meeting room and it quickly becomes apparent that this is an informal court marshalling. I'm taken aback by the number of men in the room, some I've never met and others I hoped I'd never see again.

I nod my head to Colonel Phillips and Senator Brandt, but feel suddenly unwell at the sight of Donovan, the director of the Office of Strategic Services, and Doctor Miller, the psychiatrist who oversaw my alleged therapy. Other men that I vaguely recognise from various allied organisations are seated around the large table but only one is of any concern to me.

"Agent Vetrova," Donovan says, the man in charge of the United States's recently established espionage organisation and its agents. "I trust that I don't need to introduce myself."

"No sir," I say, knowing what role I need to play, and it's for the sake of self preservation I don't correct him when he uses the name I was known by within the Soviet Union.

"Take a seat," he permits and I sit in between Steve and Peggy, Howard sitting beside Peggy whilst Bucky sits on the other side of Steve. The five of us on the one side of the circular table whilst the men sit on the other. On the table sits multiple folders, copies of both my American and Soviet service records, the SSR file, and my psychiatric records.

"Roughly a week ago Captain Rogers and Private Morgan were entertaining troops on the Italian front as part of their USO obligations when they decided to go rogue and infiltrate a Hydra factory to rescue Sergeant Barnes and subsequently freed four hundred men," Phillips begins matter of factly. "Due to this the SSR decided not to pursue disciplinary action and has granted Captain Rogers permission to form his own elite combat unit tasked with hunting down Schmidt and destroying Hydra's operational facilities. Captain Rogers has stated his wish for Private Morgan to join this unit on the front lines serving as an active combatant."

Donovan nods, and his record may just surpass that of any man I've met, important enough for both Hitler and Stalin to know by name and an infamous wildcard. He is also known for recruiting female spies, which means that I may just have a chance.

Donovan looks at me in contemplation. "You aren't what I expected."

"And what did you expect, Sir?"

He doesn't answer that question, but continues on. "You have caused quite a headache for my organisation and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Such a headache that no one has known quite what to do with you. As such the burden of responsibility had fallen upon Colonel Phillips and Senator Brandt as the OSS was not in operation when the debacle in France occurred, otherwise I would have recruited you into my spy network rather than let you sit in an asylum for a year."

My heart skips a beat and I have to refrain from looking at Peggy to share the relief those words bring, but I'm far from out of the woods yet.

"Then it is a shame that your agency was not yet operational, as it had been my intention to offer my services to the United States," I say politely, beating back any hint of spite in my voice. "I had offered them to Colonel Phillips but that offer was declined."

"Yes," Donovan says regretfully. "Although considering the circumstances of your operations within the United States that is understandable, but, I have been looking for ways to place agents within the Soviet Union. It is my understanding that you have made yourself an enemy of Stalin?"

"Yes," I say, my throat tightening at the knowledge of what is done to Stalin's enemies. "I'll be executed if I step foot in the Soviet Union again after my defection."

"It was quite the defection by all accounts," he says, and my body's stiff as he opens my file, which has grown considerably larger since Peggy presented me with it in that asylum, flicking to a photograph that shows me shaking hands with Stalin.

"We had initially been under the assumption that you were a regular agent, trained upon the outbreak of war and thus not of great importance, but it's become clear that we were very wrong," he says as I stare at the photograph of myself at seventeen years old upon my official assignment to the NKVD. "Explain this photograph to me."

"It was 1939, October Revolution Day," I say, remembering how much pain I was in since it had been mere weeks since my graduation ceremony, not that I had been given any time to recover since war had broken out just as I'd received my surgery. "I was chosen to represent my academy at a private ceremony held that day celebrating the various Soviet military and intelligence organisations. I had been officially recruited to the NKVD as an agent the month prior and due to an assignment I had carried out the previous week I was receiving a special honour for its success."

Even though I know the question is coming, I still dread it when he asks "And what was this assignment?"

In mere moments I have to come to terms with the fact that Bucky may never look at me the same when we leave this room, and that Steve may well want nothing to do with me after hearing the truth buried in those files, but this man wants to utilise my services and I cannot minimise them.

"I carried out the assassination of a political rival that opposed the impending invasion of Finland, I'd killed him before he could leak the plans to the Finnish government," I state factually, refusing to look at either Steve or Bucky. "In this photograph Stalin was personally thanking me for my service to the Soviet Union."

"The invasion of Finland caused the Soviet Union to be expelled from the League of Nations," Donovan states before correcting himself. "Or attempted invasion as I should say. Did you take part in this attack?"

"No," I answer honestly. "Whilst I had received formal military training I did not serve in an official capacity as a soldier, even when carrying out my assignments I was primarily stationed within the Soviet Union."

"Carrying out Stalin's purges?" he gathers and I swallow before nodding. "It's a fascinating thing, every Soviet agent I've ever encountered always has that same look in their eye whenever I mention Joseph Stalin, no matter how well trained they might be to hide it. Stalin is many things, but no one could ever say that his campaign of fear is anything but a masterclass. You'd know firsthand what happens to those that defy him after all."

"I do," I say quietly, his assessment faultless. "I resisted my orders to return to the Soviet Union after Pearl Harbor and spent two months in Sukhanovo Prison before being reprimanded to the Red Room Academy."

He slowly looks up from my file, the only person in the room who knows what that prison is infamous for. "Then that explains why you were mad enough to have undertaken the escape attempt that you did. They say that everyone who goes in there loses their minds or ends up dead first."

"Yes," I say, having been on both sides of those bars. "That's correct."

Steve turns his head towards me, but I keep my eyes forward as Donovan inquires "But this wasn't your first experience with prisons." I have to refrain from wincing at the images I see as he continues flicking through the folder. "Back when Stalin and Hitler signed their friendship treaty and their scientists were sharing notes from their experiments you assisted Hydra when you weren't busy executing Soviet military officers."

"Sir," I begin, keeping my voice strong but calm. "I never willingly assisted Hydra."

"But your mother did," he says and Phillips stays silent for once. "According to our intelligence she may still be working with them as a double agent, but whether she serves Schmidt or Stalin we still can't say."

"My mother believes that Hydra is the future. She believes that their purpose is greater than any spat between governments and that when this war is done it will integrate itself into whichever side wins," I say, praying that she'll be executed for treason before this is done. "I was fourteen when she handed me over for experimentation, long before she received Stalin's blessing for any cooperation between our scientific division and Hydra. As Doctor Erskine had repeatedly asserted before his death, I was not a willing participant."

"That's true," Howard says and I manage to look over at him, his face as serious as I've seen it, but there's no judgement towards me. "Doctor Erskine had told myself and the other leading scientists on Project Rebirth that he refused to allow any experimentation, or even tests, to be done without her written consent due to circumstances of her captivity under Hydra."

"And what were these circumstances?"

"Torture," Howard finishes for me and nods towards my file so I don't have to recount it. "You'll be able to find several reports written by Doctor Erskine recording the details of it."

I give Howard a thankful nod and we watch as Donovan finds the report and flicks through it, exhaling heavily before placing it down and I say "I can assure you that I'd sooner put a gun to my head and pull the trigger than ever cooperate with them."

"You shot dead the man who assassinated Erskine, yes?" he says and I nod. "Quite impressive work, although unorthodox. A woman opening fire in the middle of Brooklyn with an assault rifle attracted quite the fuss in international media."

"I was trained to get the job done by any means necessary, and that's what I did," I say and know that as a soldier he can appreciate that. He has a reputation for unorthodox himself, and so I begin to have faith that we may just understand one another. "I did try to take him alive but Nazis tend to make that difficult."

"Yes, they do," he agrees and continues to flick through my file. "I'm familiar with your background and your story, but I would prefer to hear some things in your own words. Do you identify as a communist?"

"No."

"Then what do you identify as?" he asks and I tilt my head in interest at his question. "I had several of my agents go through your belongings in Washington and they found dozens of political science books in your personal library, so I know you have opinions."

"I don't identify as anything, but I do detest authoritarianism. I was raised in the United States until I was five years old, then spent the majority of my life in the Soviet Union which gives a person a unique perspective," I say and he listens with intent, although considering his known interest in communism it shouldn't come as a surprise. "I went from attending a catholic church every Sunday to watching the public executions of priests. The Soviet government runs a highly efficient propaganda machine, no dictatorship can function without one after all."

"And despite your fear at the mere mention of Stalin you don't buy into it?"

"The academy that I was trained in utilised psychological conditioning to ensure absolute loyalty to the Soviet Regime, but my split upbringing subverted that. I-"

He interrupts me rather bluntly. "Tell me more about this academy and the conditioning you received."

It's then the doctor clears his throat. "I have a file recording the known details of her conditioning-"

"I've read the files," he dismisses. "If the United States is going to allow a former Soviet spy to play an active role in classified military operations I want to examine her myself."

I keep my head high, identifying the interrogation method he's attempting to use in consistently interrupting and catching me off guard. "Young women are trained in espionage, infiltration-"

"I'm more than familiar with how spies operate," he assures me. "What I am interested in knowing is what sets you apart from the ones employed by the Allies."

It's then I realise that he wants to recruit me directly into his agency and have me coordinate between the OSS and the SSR in the same way that Peggy coordinates with MI6. I'd answer to both him and Phillips, but it would mean that my position would be secure.

And so I clear my throat.

"Every few years they take dozens of young girls and put them in dormitories, handcuff them to their beds at night and instil paranoia as the first step of their conditioning, ensuring that the first people we spy on is one another," I begin, the scars on my wrist visible. "In the second step they train us in the discipline of ballet. We're brutalised for the slightest misstep until the fear is so deeply entrenched it's all we know. They break our bodies and our minds in order to remake them. Any one of us could compete at a professional level in gymnastics, fencing, or any form of hand to hand combat. We're trained to ensure that we don't just know how to wield weapons, but so that we are weapons. We're fluent in almost every language spoken across the European continent, trained to assimilate perfectly into whatever country we find ourselves in. To use every tool at our disposal to complete the mission."

"Including sex?" he inquires and I blink in surprise at the question.

"Yes."

"Tell me more about that," he says and even Phillips glances in apprehension at the question while my stomach sinks. Donovan is renowned for his unconventional and psychological approaches to espionage, and I find myself uncertain of the direction this interview is going. "Surely the Russians teach their agents the value of sex as a tactic."

"Sir," Steve says, uncomfortable with the topic at hand. "I don't understand what this has to do with putting her on the front lines."

Steve's treated with the same dismissiveness that we've become accustomed to. "She is a versatile agent, and I am assessing where she would be best put to use considering your unit will be undertaking the work of soldiers, not spies."

"With all due respect Sir," Steve continues and finally I can bring myself to look at him, and by extension Bucky who sits beside him with his eyes lowered. "What I saw when we liberated that factory was the work of a soldier, not someone that watches and reports back."

"The work of an assassin you mean," one of the politicians scoffs and I choose to ignore him.

"Thank you, Captain Rogers," I say, taking control of the situation before answering Donovan's question, feeling the same sickness that I did the last time I stood with my mother. "From when the girls are fourteen onwards we're giving a theoretical sexual education. I'm aware of some girls being prostituted as early as then to acquire information, however if those girls fell pregnant or contracted venereal diseases they were either killed or committed suicide. After the third death they forbade the practice until we had formally graduated the academy. Then as we grew older some girls actively sought to employ sex as their chosen tool, others chose violence or psychological manipulation."

Even Phillips has the grace to look horrified at the information I reveal, however Donovan is less phased. "And yourself?"

"I was fortunate enough in my position that I wasn't subject to prostitution and was able to utilise other methods in acquiring the information I required," I state, but out of the corner of my eye I catch how Howard lowers his eyes in contemplation, no doubt recalling our first meeting. "So no, I am not one of the girls who exchanges sex for secrets as the West likes to call it."

He almost seems disappointed, although I don't miss the relieved exhale from the other side of Steve. "This file reads like a thriller, the famous Red Widow. A female agent renowned for her brutality, after all the sheer amount of bodies you left behind in escaping the Soviet Union speaks for itself, and yet all I look at you and wonder if it's even the same person."

"With all due respect, it wasn't a thriller, it was a horror. One that I never wanted any part in. The spies you employ are given a choice. These girls aren't," I say, but give him what he wants to hear. "That academy is a living hell that trains young girls to resist and perform torture by performing it on ourselves and others. We're given orders to harm innocents and if they aren't followed to perfection we're either brutalised or killed on the spot. In my case this was done to me by my own mother. We have our humanity stripped away bit by bit until there is nothing left"

"I would like to refute that last part," Phillips says and I'm holding my breath, but he actually defends me. "Since her recruitment Private Morgan has built and maintained close friendships with Mr Stark and Agent Carter much to the surprise of SSR, myself especially. I knew her mother personally and can confirm that even when they resided within the United States that there was a severe amount of physical cruelty. However, Private Morgan is not the same creature that her mother is." I manage to meet Phillips's eye, recognising the olive branch he extends. "Despite my initial observations, she's far from the cold blooded killer we had assumed her to be. A petulant child perhaps, but not a psychopath."

"I wouldn't go that far," the doctor says while I sit there in astonishment, having truly witnessed a miracle today. "She is a highly disturbed individual-"

"She has my respect," Steve interrupts and a slight smile comes to my face "And my gratitude for disobeying orders to follow me behind enemy lines and ensuring we made it out alive, which is why I want her in the field with myself and the unit I've assembled."

"She also has the respect of the 107th, and the other prisoners that were freed. Myself included," Bucky says and I meet his eye. "I could name a dozen men that she personally treated in the aftermath of the fight, and each one of them would be grateful for her being there."

"Yes, she does have quite the exemplary service record," Donovan says and glances over the file. "By all accounts you went above and beyond the call of duty at Pearl Harbor, endangering yourself to retrieve the wounded whilst the attack was ongoing and then working without break for three days before you were reprieved of your duties. In addition to this your actions in liberating that prison would also make you the second woman in history to qualify for a medal of honour."

"Yes, I had petitioned for Captain Rogers to receive a medal of honour but he didn't attend the ceremony," Brandt grits out in frustration and turns his head, ignoring me completely. "But I didn't think it would be appropriate for her to receive one due to her history of operating against American interests, not to mention the fact that she's still a damn Russian."

"And yet you put me in stars and stripes," I can't help but remark and Phillips sighs as he leans back in his chair, bracing himself.

"I did," Brandt confirms without apology. "So you could serve this country instead of sitting in a lab, speaking of which." My mouth is set in a firm line as he turns to the politicians and officers seated around the table. "Now that Captain Rogers will be on the front lines it is more necessary than ever to have her centre stage. We need bonds to fund this war, and the financial hit bond sales will take without Captain Rogers will be tremendous. This woman has been in films, on posters, she is the face of the women's war effort and we cannot afford to lose the revenue that she brings."

"So your true concern about putting me in the field isn't my Russian citizenship but rather the thought of losing money?" I counter, for just a moment feeling like a true communist. "I still can't fathom how you can rationalise the fact that I'm apparently too Russian to serve this country with a rifle and yet American enough to make me the face of WAACs and nurses. It's complete absurdity."

Brandt is caught off guard by my attack, and Howard's smiling to himself as he tries to recover "I- you should be grateful that-"

"No, I'm not grateful," I continue, Donovan and Phillips sharing a look I can't quite decipher. "Thanks to your propaganda the world sees me as an American pin-up girl, so don't you dare utter the word Russian when you're giving reasons as to why I shouldn't be allowed to serve in the same capacity as anyone else in this room when you know damn well it's because I'm a woman. Respect is another issue of course, one which you created when you chose to strip me down as an insult to Stalin and humiliated me to demonstrate that I was now property of the United States."

"You are bold to accuse us of propaganda," is all Brandt can muster in response to that, as if America could never do such a thing.

"My apologies, let me rephrase," I fire back. "Thanks to your patriotic shows which were used as a demonstration of American power. Power that this government has gained through acquiring myself as an asset. An asset that you've misused through your USO shows in the most absurd fashion you could have dreamt of. Every man at this table is able to recognise the fact that you've misused Steve in the same way which is why you're giving him a medal and allowing him to put together his own unit which I will be an active combatant in."

I hear a proud chuckle from Howard's end of the table before Senator Brandt says "Mr Stark, why don't you try telling Miss Morgan that she would be far happier dressed up in front of a camera than running around with a group of soldiers. I'm sure we could organise for her to be placed in Hedy Lamarr's latest film considering she's offered her celebrity status to help with the sale of war bonds. Miss Morgan could learn a thing or two from her."

"I believe that Miss Lamarr wanted to join the NIC as an inventor before she was told to go and sell bonds instead," Howard corrects before looking over at me. "And I could, but she's already hit one man today and I don't plan on being the second."

Phillips looks between us now in exasperation upon noticing the slight discolouration on Steve's face, but decides that he doesn't want to know and speaks up for the sake of ending this meeting. "Senator, I understand that all of this has inconvenienced you, but Captain Rogers has made it quite clear to me that they either go with her or they don't go at all. For the sake of our collective sanity I think it would be best to find another woman to replace her on those posters and let her do what she's been trained to do. I don't personally agree with it either, but-"

"May I speak?" the doctor interrupts and I don't hide my disgust at the sight of him. "Has this room forgotten the danger that she poses? This assassin is a deranged Soviet masquerading as a respectable American woman when she should still be locked in an asylum. She killed multiple guards in her various escape attempts before cracking her skull open in a suicide attempt three months into her imprisonment."

"Because you tried to use torture to fix the damage caused by torture," I immediately argue and he gapes in offence before spitting back at me.

"It is known as shock therapy, but perhaps a lobotomy would have been more effective."

Before I can launch out of my seat Peggy grabs me firmly by the wrist and Phillips intervenes "That's enough, but, it is important that your psychiatric history be taken into consideration." I inhale deeply as he takes my medical file, being the one to give an overview to the men present. "Adelina Morgan was held in a psychiatric facility from May 1942 until April this year due to violently resisting arrest and several escape attempts resulting in casualties."

"She shot you didn't she?" Donovan inquires and he gives an annoyed nod of his head, but Donovan only looks impressed which tells me enough about my odds.

"That she did, and during that ordeal she demonstrated a shocking brutality and a lack of inhibition. In my personal experiences with this woman I can determine at her worst she is manipulative and violent with impulse issues that not even her mother could beat out of her." I bite the inside of my cheek while my side of the room gapes at him, his assessment damning but not inaccurate. "But, that being said, her service record speaks for itself."

The doctor scoffs and I speak up before he can and address the room. "When I was captured in France I was not in my right state of mind. I'd raised my sister since she was a baby and the only mission that had ever truly mattered to me was protecting her and I'd failed." Peggy silently squeezes my hand beneath the table in support and I keep my head held high. "When I was imprisoned I made mistakes that will hang over me for the rest of my life, and I can't go back and undo them. But I'm an agent who knows how to compartmentalise and finish whatever assignment I am given, and I'm asking for a chance to use my skillset to end this war."

The room's quiet as Donovan nods and shuts my file. "That's what I like to hear, now, does anyone else have any issues they want to raise?"

Immediately a voice pipes up, one of the government's representatives. "The issue of her sex."

Peggy and I exchange a look while Donovan considers this. "You're right, there are issues involving her sex, however with the right conditions in place this can be managed. Colonel Phillips, you already have one female agent working for the SSR so I trust this won't be a problem."

"This would be completely different," Brandt interrupts. "She would be on the frontlines, not pushing papers in London."

Peggy purses her mouth but Donovan waves him off. "I'm aware of that, but both the SSR and the OSS could benefit immensely from having a trained agent behind enemy lines. The benefits far outweigh the risks."

"Does this mean she is on the team?" Steve asks, cutting through the bullshit.

Donovan looks at Phillips "I'll have my secretary organise the paperwork to have her recruited into the OSS and that way the SSR can co-ordinate with us in the same way that they do with MI6, cut through the bureaucratic red tape. That way you can put her to whatever use you see fit without involving the military."

Steve's confused but Peggy and I share a look of relief now that we know for certain I'll hold the same position that she does within the SSR. That I'll officially be an agent serving the United States rather than working against it.

"Thank you, sir," I immediately say. "Truly."

"I look forward to working with you," Donovan says, pushing his chair back to leave. "For now you'll be on lend to the SSR as an OSS agent, so the rest is up to Colonel Phillips and Senator Brandt."

"Thank you, sir," I say again and we all stand as he and the rest of the men exit the room with the exception of Phillips and Brandt.

"Alright," Phillips says with a heavy breath as we sit back down and briefly I meet Bucky's eye and see the relief he shares. "Agent Morgan, I will allow you to join this team Rogers is putting together but there will be conditions. I strongly suggest you accept them without argument."

"Of course," I say and Phillips pushes forward paperwork, having been prepared for this outcome even if Brandt isn't happy with it.

"You will receive the title of agent and will not hold military rank. You will not commit any further acts of insubordination or else face imprisonment. You will act in the interests of the United States and the SSR and will cut any existing connections you may have with the Soviet Union." I open my mouth and he immediately says "We will deal with the issue of your sister once the war's done, until then there's nothing we can do."

I give a stiff nod, having expected as much. "Yes, sir."

"The same rules and regulations that apply to WAACs will still apply to you for the most part, and as such you will not engage in any romantic or sexual relationships for obvious reasons as a pregnancy would be detrimental to your ability to serve this country."

My jaw clenches and Pegg's hand brushes mine beneath the table as Brandt remarks "It's already inappropriate to have a menstruating woman in the field considering the burden it will be on your fellow soldiers."

I blink in pure astonishment, and Steve's stunned into silence while Bucky clears his throat. "That- that is hardly a burden Senator. We're soldiers, blood isn't an issue for us."

His words are appreciated, but dread washes over me as I look at Peggy and she gives the slightest nod, affirming that if there's any time to reveal the truth it's now.

"I was created to be the perfect agent," I say stiffly and Bucky must notice the shift in my voice from how he looks at me. "I assure you that my sex will not interfere."

"But Miss Morgan, it does," Brandt argues and I correct him harshly.

"Agent Morgan."

"A soldier should not have a womb," he mutters and appeals to Phillips. "The last thing we want is her getting captured in the field and Hydra deciding to make super soldiers the reproductive way."

For a moment I feel so sick I almost have to leave the room, but set my jaw and ensure, refusing to look at anything but the files on the table.

"I never thought of that," Phillips admits and panic rushes through me. "Perhaps we should reconsider-"

"Reconsider?" I breathe. "Are you serious?"

"You are a woman and if you are captured by the enemy I don't have to tell you what would happen to you," Phillips says and my jaw is clenched tight. "Under other circumstances you would be the one to decide if that's a risk you're willing to take, the same as other women that serve as non-combatants on the front lines, but a pregnancy that results in a super soldier being born would be an international security risk. Something we will need to have our doctors examine-"

At the mention of doctors coming anywhere near that part of me again I finally spit it out, struggling to keep my voice even. "Pregnancy won't be an issue."

"Agent," Phillips says, still not understanding. "Unless you're telling me that you don't have a womb-"

"I am, that is what I am telling you," I manage to say and the room falls silent. "The academy that trained me made sure I would be the perfect agent, that there would be no inconveniences." I blink away tears at the memory that I still can't touch. "When the first girl in my class got pregnant and tried to escape for the sake of her child they killed her and decided to ensure it wouldn't be an issue again. That there'd never be anything that could take precedence over a mission. And so they introduced a graduation ceremony."

I want to stop there, but I force myself to compartmentalise enough to say it plainly so there's no confusion.

"I was seventeen when I graduated. They strapped me down to a surgical table without a drop of medication and tore out my uterus before sewing me back up, so pregnancy won't be an issue."

I don't dare look at anyone but Peggy, and it's Howard that clears his throat and says to Brandt. "If you require any further medical information that isn't available in her records you can petition it through one of my lawyers."

"That won't be necessary," Brandt says, and another beat of silence passes before he turns to Phillips and says "I will fund this unit Rogers is putting together on the condition that she continues to feature in USO materials when she isn't on assignment, same as Rogers."

I bite the inside of my cheek again, tasting blood as I glance at the paperwork and again Howard advocates for me. "As Agent Morgan has no legal representation of her own she'll have my lawyers look over this contract before she signs it."

"Thank you, Howard," I manage to say and slide the contract towards him, my voice stiff. "It is quite late Colonel, if this meeting is done may I be excused?"

He nods his head in permission and I leave the room without looking back.

~

The air is cold and the streetlights illuminate the back alley I find myself in. The cigarette between my fingers is dim and tearstained but it's better than nothing. I should be celebrating, and yet this feels far from a victory.

Even now as I sit on the backstep to the building that disguises the SSR's headquarters I can still feel what they did to me. Simply recalling it feels as if they've gone in and ripped those wounds clean open, but at least it's done now.

I'm silent at the sound of his footsteps, already drilled into memory, and I don't say a single word as he sits beside me. I'd expected Peggy or Howard to eventually come and bring me back inside, but perhaps it's for the best we get this over now.

"I hoped we'd be celebrating tonight," Bucky says in an attempt to lighten the mood, but there's no lightening it. "Ada-"

"I'm happy," I tell him, but I know that my smudged mascara would say otherwise. "I'm on the team, and I have my rank back. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

He nods, and I can see him debating leaving it there, but we both know that this is a conversation we need to have. "Agent Carter was real worried about you after you left."

"I imagine she would be, but I'll see her when I go back to our room," I say, still avoiding reason that he's been the one to come after me.

He's quiet for a moment longer before bringing up what I can't. "She explained what you said to Steve and I, explained what they did to you."

He doesn't find a more gentle way to put it despite clearly searching for the words, but there's nothing gentle about what they did.

"Then you know that I won't be an inconvenience in the field," I say stiffly and remember his words. "But thank you for your support regardless."

A car drives past, illuminating the dried tears that must still remain on his face and I can't meet his eye. "Ada," he says softly and my hand shakes as I put the cigarette out on the stone step.

"I'm okay," I say weakly, but he doesn't let me get away with that.

"You don't have to be," he says quietly and I could almost smile at the sad irony. "Not in front of me. You saw what they did to me in that lab, and I... I can't imagine what they did to you, but I have some idea of what it's like to be strapped down and have a part of you ripped away."

I press my eyes shut and feel tears escape down my face. He does understand that part of it, but it doesn't change the permanence of what they've done.

Finally I look at him and numbly ask "Do you still want to know me?"

The question takes him aback, and he searches my eyes in bewilderment. "Why wouldn't I?"

My voice breaks. "You know why."

The tears come now with little resistance and I still as he holds my face, gently wiping them away with a tenderness that only worsens the aching in my chest.

"Do you really think that changes a thing?" he asks and I'm trembling beneath his touch, more vulnerable than I've ever been.

"You know it does," I whisper hoarsely and drop the American accent, my natural accent coming through thicker than I remember it being. "I'll never be your perfect American woman. I'll never be the perfect housewife that can give you kids. I can't be. It's physically not possible."

"Do you really think that for a moment I ever looked at you and saw a housewife?" he asks me and nothing in his eyes proves him to be a liar, and yet I still can't believe him. "Sweetheart, I don't know what act you think you've been putting on but it sure as hell wasn't that."

"You don't want a nice American girl that can give you babies and cook you dinner?"

"If I did I'd already be married," he laughs quietly and shakes his head as he takes my hand in his, holding it tight. "I don't want a nice American girl. I want you.'

We live in a time where men and women run to the courthouse to marry after knowing each other for less time than he and I have, and so I ask "What do you see with me, James?"

The one thing I've grown to appreciate about him is how deeply he considers his words and his actions, and this is no different. He takes a moment to truly consider what I'm asking before he answers.

"I'll be honest in saying that when I met you at the expo I was looking to spend the night with someone before I got shipped out," he says and searches for my reaction but there's none because I'd already known this. "Even when I brought Steve out on a double date I did it mostly for his sake, because I'd planned to leave and do what I had to do with the idea that I'd think about starting that sort of life if I made it back. Hell, even now we both know the odds of us both making it back."

Something in my heart breaks a little at seeing the jarring difference between the man sitting in front of me and the one who at least pretended that he had no doubts that he'd make it back.

"I don't think that I realised how much of an impact you'd made until after you'd left," he confesses and I watch his face carefully as I listen. "I left without asking how to find you because I still had this idea in my head that the less people I left behind the better, but god knows I regretted that the longer I was out there on the front. I kept seeing letters coming in and just wished that I could write to you, to tell you the parts that I didn't have the heart to tell my family about. For months I just kept thinking about the things you'd said and the questions I still had, because I knew somehow that you'd understand."

My thumb strokes the side of his hand in quiet comfort, and he offers a pained smile before looking back out at the street, his eyes lowered as he continues on.

"I landed on the Italian front in July, got captured not long after. By then I understood what you'd told me, and in that prison I'd think about you. This incredible beautiful woman that I just couldn't seem to forget. Hell thinking about you was the one thing that gave me a lick of comfort in there," he says with a slight smile while I listen on stunned, and he finally looks at me. "Then I was brought into that lab and they did what they did until I woke up and saw you standing over me. I thought I'd either lost my mind or was finally dead, but there you were standing over me like some sort of angel."

"I think we both know I'm far from an angel," I manage to jest and after everything he heard he knows there's no denying what I've done, but he doesn't look at me any differently.

"That might be true, but you still are to me," he says, holding my eye as he kisses my hand, clasping it tight. "I've never been much of a believer, in fate or much else, but I am now. I don't think it wasn't a coincidence we met that night, or that you found me in that factory. If I believe in anything, it's in you, in us. That I was meant to meet you."

My eyes are filled with tears and I'm rendered speechless as I take in his words. There's passion, there's love, but this is something else. Something I never knew existed. The type of belief that borders on a devotion that's unconditional.

I search his eyes, breathing out the only words I can. "I believe that too."

For just a moment I catch tears in his own eyes before our lips meet, both of us laid bare in our vulnerability with our hearts on our sleeves. I'm shaking as this suddenly becomes real and I'm tugging him closer until he brings me into his arms, the kiss only worsening that aching need in my heart.

An ache that I could almost dare to call love.

He tilts my chin up as he deepens the kiss, both of us tasting tears, and it's only when I'm gasping for breath that he pulls away and holds my face in his hands, telling me in no uncertain words what I'd always thought was impossible.

"Ever since you found me in that prison I've known what I want, and what I heard in there doesn't change a thing," he promises as I blink away tears. "I don't know what's going to happen when we're sent back over there, and I can't promise that I'm going to make it out of this. I've seen enough now to know better than that. But I know that I want you, and I don't want to wait for a day that might not come to be with you."

In a time of war men and women rush into marriage, they take leaps of faith and make promises they might not be able to keep, and this is no different. We both know that we should be focusing on our duties, the same as Peggy and Steve are, but how can we possibly deny ourselves this?

I wear an emotional smile as I say "I don't want to wait either."

His eyes brighten and I'm close enough that I can feel the breath of relief that he lets escape before he asks "So what do you say, sweetheart? You and me, to hell and back?"

"To hell and back," I promise, and it's one that I intend to keep.

This time we're smiling as our lips meet and the tears in my eyes aren't ones of pain, but pure blinding joy. He brings us up, lifting me until my feet are off the ground and my arms are looped tight around his neck, smiling against his lips as I kiss him hard.

When my feet return to the ground his forehead rests on mine, and it's only at the sound of footsteps in the connecting street that I lower my face into his shoulder, concealing it. He cups the back of my head and once the footsteps have passed I look up at him "You know that they won't like me fraternising with a Sergeant, regardless of whether I can get pregnant or not."

"That sounds like their problem," he dismisses, peppering kisses across my face.

"Hmm it does, doesn't it," I say before pulling away to hold his face in my hands. "But..."

"I know, I know," he promises me. "We'll be careful, or at least more than we have been."

I nod, content with that. "So you and me huh?"

"There's worse things," he teases, bumping his nose against mine. "Like the fact we're going to have to keep this secret."

I hum in contemplation. "I think it's a little late to hide this from Steve and Peggy, but at least we know it's safe with them."

He nods in agreement, holding me close and kissing the top of my head. "We'll make this work, sweetheart. We might need to do a bit of sneaking around but I'm not dating a spy for nothing."

I'm grinning as I shake my head at him. "So I'll have to teach you a thing or two then it seems?"

"Hey," he says, his hand slipping down to the small of my back and his voice deepening. "I'll be teaching you a few things too."

"I hope so," I breathe, before revealing something else to him. "All of this, it's new to me. I never- I've never been like this with anyone before."

He nods in understanding, even if he does seem surprised considering how forward I've been, and says "So, I'll be teaching you more than a thing or two then?"

He seems to like the idea of that and I'm smiling. "You better be."

He grins as he pulls me in tight, his hands heavy on my waist. "Oh I will be, and I'm gonna show you just how much of a romantic I can be."

I hum as he kisses me, open mouthed and hungry, and I'm about to pull him somewhere a little more private when we pull away at the sound of familiar voices to find our new unit walking past with Steve and Peggy in tow.

"She has to be here some- of course," Peggy says when she spots us. "I believe your unit is going to celebrate if you'd like to join."

I look at Bucky and he places a proud hand on my back. "Come on sweetheart, we've got a lot to celebrate." He leans in to murmur "And for the record, I really like the accent."

I'm smiling as we come out of the alleyway and Peggy fixes up my makeup for me in the street, no words needing to be spoken for her to know what was said and the outcome. She smiles for me too, and the four of us head off down the street after the rest of the men which I learn they've named The Howling Commandos.