Ada

The moment we pull into the camp Peggy's rushing me to the medical tent for treatment despite my ongoing protests.

"You need to search the area, block off any roads to Soviet camps," I order Peggy as Bucky forces me down onto the end of a bed for treatment. "Peg-"

The sound of Phillips yelling outside the tent causes Peggy to run out, and I hear the raised voices of both herself and Steve arguing with him. Bucky tries to remove his jacket from me, to get a better look at the wounds while a nurse is fetched, but I brush him off, instead pulling it tighter around me as I try to listen in on the argument outside, guessing that I may yet be making a run for it.

"You need to take the Howling Commandos and try to get ahead of that widow," I order him. "She's injured, she's losing blood, and she's just failed a mission. She'll be terrified and making mistakes. Don't try to apprehend her. Don't try to take her prisoner. Take her out."

Bucky's lips part in shock at my blatant order that he kill an injured woman, and he looks at me with the same defeated expression as Peggy.

"James!" I yell, trying to snap him out of it. "She can't make it back to Leviathan alive-"

"No one is killing another fucking Russian!" Phillips rages as he storms into the tent, no doubt having come straight from the battlefield. "That's unless it's you. Rogers just filled me in. If hundreds of dead Russian's isn't enough you shot dead allied prisoners-"

"And lied my ass off to a Soviet General to frame Finow on the Nazis!" I exclaim. "We'd be fighting th Red Army right now if I hadn't covered for this fucking government!"

"And there you were, on the way back to your old comrades-"

"Does it look like I wanted to go back!" I yell at him in disbelief as I force myself to my feet and point at my numerous knife wounds.

"You murdered an American General!" he growls, trying to keep his voice down.

"I executed a war criminal!" I hiss back. "You're welcome."

"I saw his body," Phillips spits, visibly disturbed. "That wasn't execution, it was pleasure."

"It was both," I say shamelessly. "That bastard was going to kill the both of us and cover it up, so if you want me to apologise you can go and get fucked!"

Phillips' hand comes up hard across my face and Steve moves to hold Bucky back but Peggy isn't fast enough to stop me from throwing myself at Phillips as I grab the closest object next to me, smashing a half filled bottle of rubbing alcohol over his head.

He stumbles back but I'm sure in my step, taking a broken shard of glass and snatching a lighter off a nearby table.

"Ada!" Peggy yells as I shove Phillips into a tent post, holding the broken shard of glass to the artery in his throat and igniting the lighter. Dripping with the flamable liquid he inches away from the heat, knowing that one move from me is all it would take for him to go up in flames.

A smile twitches at my lips and I laugh at the look in his eye, one I've seen dozens of times in my life, if not hundreds.

"Not so brave now, are you?" I ask him softly and at the sound of a pistol loading I look to see that Peggy has one aimed right at me, but I pay her no mind as I speak to Phillips. "We've been here before, so you know how this goes."

"Then go ahead, finish the job," he goads. "Make your mother proud."

I exhale sharply and with a shaking hand throw the lighter aside, but I refuse to remove the broken glass from his throat, even as he orders, "Agent Carter, arrest Agent Vetrova for treason against the United States Government and its allies."

"The same allies an American General gassed?" I counter. "The same allies I stopped us from entering into a war with?"

"Carter," Phillips says again, looking past me. "If you want to keep your job I highly recommend that you take this woman into custody." His eyes then fall on Bucky, who Steve has a firm hold on. "And if anyone feels like intervening they'll be court-martialled and dishonourably discharged."

"Go ahead and arrest me," I smirk. "Take me to trial and see what our allies think of what happened here. You can't charge me with shit without starting a war with the Sovet Union, because the moment you put me on a stand I'm taking you down with me." Phillips presses his mouth into a hard line and I lean in closer, pressing on his throat with the edge of the glass. "If you want to charge me with treason then I'll show you treason."

"Fine then," he says. "Agent Carter, arrest her for taking it upon herself to execute an American General since she's so proud of it."

And I can't exactly refute those charges.

"Ada," Peggy says with a shake in her voice. "Please put the glass down."

"No, this is ridiculous," Bucky says, breaking free of Steve's hold and stepping between Phillips and I, putting a hand on my shoulder and physically moving me back until he's firmly between us and Phillips is out of my reach. "Colonel, everything's she's done has been self defence-"

"She just smashed a bottle over my head-"

"You heard what I said," Bucky retorts, and now Phillips squares up to him.

"If your girlfriend wants to dress up as a soldier then she can get used to being treated like one," Phillips scolds. "She's only worth so much trouble before she's no use to us, and right now she's a liability."

Steve immediately reaches for Bucky, pulling him aside as Peggy hands me a set of spare clothes and shakily instructs, "Dress yourself and then surrender for arrest."

Phillips leaves the tent and Bucky immediately comes to me, holding me with shaking and tender hands. "Lina..."

As the weight of my actions sink in I wordlessly cup his face and kiss his cheek, not knowing what's to come, but unable to bring myself to say goodbye.

"Deal with this better than I have," I quietly ask of him, and with eyes that break my heart he gives a strained nod, still holding on. "You've gotta let go, Buck."

Instead he reaches for my hand and holds it tight, running his thumb over my ring finger and unable to get any words out, but that single gesture says enough.

Phillips could change his mind and release me the moment we get back to London. He'd no doubt berate me in private, but if he's smart he'll bury what happened here in Finow. Both the death of those Soviet soldiers at the hands of an American General, my murder of him, and then my execution of the Leviathan agents who took me captive.

But with Doreteya free, there's one last witness to piece those parts together and report back to the Red Army. The Soviet General won't incriminate me for killing that American General, not when he believes I'm acting as a double agent, but Doreteya could very well lash out against me when she knows what awaits her for failing a mission. One last loose end that they stopped me from eradicating.

The Soviet Union has a reason to protect me if they believe I'm working as a double agent, but Phillips could just as easily decide to make me the scapegoat for everything. He could bury all of this and blame it on the Nazis, or he could bury me.

And I may have just made his decision for him.

If he has any mercy left in his heart he'll kill me before sentencing me to a life in an asylum, or worse, extradition to the Soviet Union.

The government may believe I'm a double agent, but the moment the United States casts me out I lose that advantage. The moment Leviathan has its hands on me there'll never be any coming back from that. I'll never be this person again.

They'll break me and remake me if they don't kill me.

And I'm left forcing back tears at the realisation that Erskine was wrong. I'm not free of the Red Room.

And I fear I never will be.

"James," I quake despite trying to keep my voice strong. "You need to let me go."

Tears fill his eyes and I look at Steve, silently pleading with him, and he steps forward and puts a hand on Bucky's shoulder.

"Come on Buck, let her get dressed," Steve says, considering I'm still standing in Bucky's jacket and my undergarments. "Ada, we'll be waiting outside."

I give Steve a thankful nod as he guides Bucky out of the tent and only then do I let the tears fill my eyes now that I'm alone with Peggy. I don't look at her, instead standing with my back to her as I remove Bucky's jacket with shaking hands and dress myself in the clothes she's given me.

Finally, once I've laced the oversized shoes, I stand and put my hands behind my back. A deathly shudder escapes my lungs at the bite of the cuffs, somehow knowing this day marks the beginning of the inevitable.

And any illusion of the freedom I thought I held is shattered.

With my head held high I march out of the tent with Peggy guiding me to the jeep I'm to be transported in. Out of the corner of my eye I catch Steve holding Bucky's arm, keeping him from doing anything rash, and I don't allow myself to look at either of them. I look only ahead, even as I hear Howard's voice.

"I'm going to be calling my lawyers!" he yells, and he then says to Phillips. "You can't arrest her for this."

"I think you and I both know that I can."

Only when Peggy puts me into the jeep, driven by Jarvis, do I say to her, "If they decide on extradition make sure I don't reach Russia alive."

"Ada," she begins, only to fall silent when I finally look at her, and she swallows hard. "And your sister?"

My lip quivers then, reminded of the singular reason I'm not dead already.

The only person in the world who won't be better off with me dead.

~

Bucky

Steve and I sit in Howard's main London apartment with drinks in hand.

Howard looks down at his empty glass of whiskey with two blackened eyes. One courtesy of the General Ada killed and the other he got from me for dragging Ada into this mess.

He didn't exactly object to it.

Phillips however... he definitely didn't appreciate the one I gave him the moment Ada had left Finow, the moment I knew she was out of his reach.

At least for a few hours.

It's been two days since then and none of us know where she is.

It was Steve's peace offering to Phillips for the lot of us to vacate headquarters for a few days, and I know he had to pull every card he had to stop Phillips from signing the paperwork that would have had me discharged and sent back to Brooklyn.

But that's nothing compared to what could be in store for Ada.

I lift the bottle of whiskey Howard passed me two hours ago to find a quarter left, but I'm still feeling nothing. I slam it back down onto the table in frustration, at both its ineffectiveness and what I've long feared it means, and Steve shakes his head at me.

"Wanna slow down there, Buck?"

"Not really," I answer, abandoning my glass to drink from the bottle.

"You can't just sit here and drink yourself to sleep," Steve lectures, and I actually laugh.

"Well I can't exactly go back to base can I?"

"I wonder why?" Steve counters. "Surely it can't have anything to do with giving the Colonel a black eye."

"Yeah, after he hit my fiance," I remind Steve. "Only reason I didn't do it then and there was because Ada would've actually killed him if he swung back at me."

"She mouthed off and he treated her like he would've done to any other soldier, actually better considering she's already shot him once," Steve says, and I scoff in disbelief while Howard cringes. "Which is exactly what she's wanted all along, to be treated like any other Howling Commando, and then she nearly set him on fire for it. Phillips was out of line, but so was she."

"Are you seriously taking his side right now?"

"I'm saying that this is a long time coming," he answers and I get to my feet to pace the room, not even wanting to look at him. "Bucky, we both know that she isn't guilty of treason. She didn't conspire to kill Howard and frame it on Nazis like Phillips thought before we flew out, but she did kill a General and other American soldiers."

"That was self defence," Howard says, finally piping up. "And I've told Phillips that I'll testify to that if he takes her to trial, along with the fact the American government was responsible for Finow. He's not going to use her as a scapegoat."

Howard knows that he'd go down with them since he invented the damn thing, but he'd do it if it meant clearing Ada's name. Which is the only reason I'm still in the same room as him. As angry as I am with him for bringing Ada there, there's nothing he won't do to put this right, and I respect him for it.

But Steve's on thin ice.

"Have you talked to Carter since you got back?" I ask him, and he immediately looks away. "Since she'd be the only one of us that would have a clue in hell where they're keeping Ada."

"No, I haven't," he answers. "And that's another reason Phillips doesn't want us on base, so we can't talk her into telling us anything."

"Look, Peggy loves Ada," Howard says, trying to put us at ease. "As long as she's overseeing things she won't let anything bad happen to her."

"And if she isn't?" I ask Howard. "Phillips knows they're close, he won't be giving Carter any access to her."

Steve's silence means that he unfortunately agrees with my assessment, and there's nothing else to do but drink.

By the time I make it to bed my head spins, but not enough. Not how it used to. I could always hold my liquor well, but I still knew my limits. A drunk night out usually meant half of a bottle of whiskey without making myself stupidly sick the next day, maybe more.

Now I'm a bottle down and nothing feels right.

It's something I've spent months meaning to mention, if not to Steve then to Ada, but every time I've gotten close the words seem to get stuck in my throat. Now I might not get the chance.

When she told me to let her go I knew she didn't just mean in that moment, no, she said those words as a goodbye that neither of us could accept.

And I still can't.

I don't think I'd ever be able to.

She's my fiancé. She's the love of my life. She's the woman I'm going to spend it with.

Maybe things haven't been easy these past few months. Maybe we've both had moments where we wondered if we rushed into this, and even if we did I don't regret it.

I love her and I made a promise to her.

I'm not abandoning her now.

Even if that's what she wants.

At some point my eyes manage to fall shut, only for them to open again at the sound of curtains being harshly pulled open and I'm wincing at the light that pours in.

For just a second my eyes make out the figure of a brunette woman and my heart swells, only for it to sink upon hearing Peggy's voice.

"Sergeant Barnes, this is no way to be behaving," she lectures, not having been present for when I punched Phillips or Howard, but no doubt aware of both by now. "Do you think Ada would want to see you drinking yourself to sleep and assaulting her friends?"

"All things considered I don't think she'll blame me for throwing a few punches," I dismiss, knowing that she'll definitely be mad about Howard, but she'll still understand it. "Where is she?"

"She's being held in the SSR's custody, although I don't know where," she states, but I don't believe the last part. "And for the record, she certainly would blame you for the drinking. You know how she feels about it."

And I remember the conversation we had months ago in Brooklyn, where she outright asked me to lean on her when times get hard rather than to take up drinking as so many soldiers do, and I've done that.

But she isn't here now.

And so I crave the next closest thing.

"I don't suppose you've got a cigarette?"

"No, I certainly do not," she chides. "Now, it's past time you got out of bed and did something productive."

"Like what?" I scoff considering my unofficial leave, and she falls short of an answer. "That's what I thought."

She inhales deeply and finally says, "Ada's fate is dependent on her now, and wallowing isn't going to help her. I can't say much, but as far as I'm aware she's undergoing interrogations and assessments of her loyalty to the United States government and adherance to the communist ideology she was raised with."

"So, either she lies her ass off or she's done for," I remark and Peggy purses her mouth. "We both know she hates the government and that she's at least a socialist."

"Yes, and in 1940 your government passed significant legislation targeting her ideology, sanctioning the investigation and firing of any Federal worker suspected of being a communist," she informs me. "And they did find countless communist materials when they raided her father's home in Washington after the attack on Pearl Harbor."

I nod slowly, remembering when she brought me there, and remark, "She did bring a copy of the Communist Manifesto back to my apartment for me to read."

"Good god," she exhales, and I begin to realise Ada may have had multiple motives for making me change the locks before we came back to England. "My point is, we have to trust that she's smart enough to not speak her mind otherwise..."

She trails off, and finally I dare to ask the question I've been dreading most. "They wouldn't extradite her to Russia knowing what would be done to her?"

"I'm afraid they would," she says quietly. "If only to pass on the burden."

"Burden," I repeat. "And what burden's that, Carter?"

"What will either be a life in prison or execution," she answers, and the pit in my stomach deepens, having gathered as much. "But, Howard's built a strong case in her favour and it seems Ada's not the only one capable of blackmail. Phillips would be mad to pursue charges against her knowing what her and Howard would expose if given that opportunity."

"She did kill them in self defence," I remind Peggy. "She is innocent."

But Peggy's face is drawn in conflict. "Phillips knows that, but... he's still not convinced that she hasn't been acting as a double agent on behalf of her former handlers in Russia."

And my mind flashes back to finding her in the back of that truck, almost naked and bleeding. "Did he not see the state she was in after trying to escape from them?"

"It still doesn't explain why the Soviet General who intercepted her and Howard at the battlefield didn't arrest her," Peggy says. "If she had been charged with treason against the Soviet Government they would have had every right to take her then and there. It was only when Leviathan were alerted that they sent a Red Room agent to capture her."

I just shake my head at her for even considering any of what Phillips was getting at, but she keeps going.

"Ada risked everything escaping the Red Room, but surely you've noticed how on edge she's become these past months," she continues, and suddenly she has my attention.

My mind goes back to a night I've tried to forget, but still it lingers in the forefront of my mind. "Since around New Years?"

"Exactly," Peggy exhales, almost in relief that I know what she means. "Suddenly she didn't want to be even seen in public in London, when a week before she'd been kissing you in broad daylight in Brooklyn and running about the city without a care in the world. Something changed."

"In the field she was normal again, but as soon as we got back..." I trail off, connecting the dots I'd initially dismissed before dismissing them again. "Look, she's a paranoid person-"

"Or, perhaps she's reacting appropriately to a threat she's kept to herself," Peggy says, and my throat tightens. "She may be honest about her past, but lying still comes as naturally to her as breathing. The Red Room has her sister, and if they've made contact with Ada-"

"No, she wouldn't be acting as a double agent," I immediately refute before she can even say the words. "She wouldn't do that."

"Not willingly," she clarifies. "But, if she had to choose between the interests of the United States government and a girl she raised..." she trails off once again, silently pleading with me. "Sergeant Barnes. By all accounts the Soviets should have arrested her for desertion and treason the moment they laid eyes on her, but they didn't. Howard said she spouted some nonsense about the glory of the Soviet government and faked allegiance to them, insisting that it was merely an act to save her own skin, but what if they believe she's still working for them?"

Just as I can begin to contemplate her words Howard clears his throat from the doorway. "You know, your theory's missing one crucial detail."

"And what's that, Howard?" Peggy sighs.

"It's Ada you're talking about," Howard says. "Hasn't she proven that she'd do anything for any of us? She might betray the government, but she wouldn't betray us."

"I never said that she'd do any of this willingly," Peggy stresses, her genuine distress slipping through. "I love Ada the same as you do-" I have to swallow a sound of disbelief at that considering I know damn well how Howard feels about her. "But is it so far fetched to believe that her former handlers made contact with her and that she's allowed them to believe she's still serving the Soviet government for the sake of her sister? That she may be breadcrumbing them just enough to keep up her act."

Howard falls more silent than he's ever been, and Peggy's eyes widen.

"Howard, what do you know?"

"Nothing more than you would," he says, disregarding Peggy's question entirely. "Look, Peg, Ada could've told the Russians the truth. That an American General deployed an American-made chemical weapon over Allied troops and used them as test subjects. But she didn't. She lied her ass off and the General didn't feel like tangling with her after seeing hundreds of his troops' mutilated bodies. Trust me, she couldn't get away soon enough."

"But would she have lied if it weren't you that she was protecting?" Peggy counters, and that question weighs heavy on all of us.

"She wouldn't have been there in the first place then," Howard reminds her, reaching up to rub his bruised eye. "We all know she doesn't have any love for the US government, but considering the two of you've been sharing a room with her I'd say you'd know a bit more than I would about the things that keep her up at night, so you should be the last people accusing her of still being loyal to those bastards over in Russia."

Peggy and I look at one another before lowering our eyes, but despite Howard's words something still doesn't feel right. Ada has been acting different. She's suspicious. On edge. Paranoid.

There's something she's keeping from us.

Something important.

And I'm forced to remind myself that she wasn't a soldier before I met her, she was a spy.

A damn good one.

~

Ada

For three days I'm interrogated every hour by a different agent from the different Allied intelligence branches, on everything ranging from my childhood, my training, my loyalty, mostly my ideology, but surprisingly not so much Finow. No. The SSR's kept that under wraps.

Still, the agents that are aware of it wait for me to slip up, for my story to change, but it doesn't. All I can do is pray that Howard's as smart with words as he is with his inventions, or that his position means he's been spared the interrogation.

For them to target me so heavily makes me suspect that he has been, otherwise they'd have ceased interrogations on the first day if they were able to pin anything on me. When boredom begins to strike I let the agents think for just a second that they've got me, that they've made the Red Widow falter, only to leave them sorely disappointed.

Eventually I begin to wonder if this is some cross-organisation training exercise for their agents, and so I take the liberty of criticising their methods without constructive feedback. By the third day I'm utterly disappointed with the quality of the Allied agents they've sent my way, although I do enjoy tormenting a certain Agent Thompson.

And I begin to remember that I once found this back-and-forth fun.

My favourite game to play.

Then two hours pass without an interrogation, breaking routine in an attempt to throw me off. With spite in my chest, the utter anger that's fueled me for three days now, I begin to sing Russian songs. Is that a crime? No, but I can feel them watching me through that glass and I hope Phillips is there to hear me.

They've focused more than I expected on the communist angle, but it would be the method with the most legislative grounds they have to discharge and imprison me if they wished. Except I know that legislation better than any agent they've sent in here, I know the loopholes. They introduced it prior to my stint as a nurse, so I've had plenty of time to learn it well in case they decided to start targeting foreigners, as is so often done in times of unrest.

It always seems to be a government's first resort, modern-day witch hunts to distract from the true enemy to the people.

I was born in America, and I may be an American citizen, but that definition is unfortunately subject to change depending on the government in power. After all, they have a very narrow view of what physically constitutes a 'true' American. Bucky and Steve fit it, as does Phillips, but I don't, and neither do several of my fellow Howling Commandos despite being the ones on the front lines fighting for a country that hasn't fought for them.

And the longer I'm left to contemplate my government's wrongs, the more bitter my false pledges of allegiance taste on my tongue.

At one point I begin to wonder if Steve's there to watch this. He isn't as fond of me as Peggy and Howard are, but he's tried to be for Bucky's sake. Even so, no matter how Steve may feel about me right now, he wouldn't stand for this. He'd have intervened and personally lectured me rather than sit and watch them interrogate me for three days without sleep and minimal sustenance. Bucky certainly wouldn't, and Howard would have a lawyer in here with me if any of them had any idea where I am.

Then my thoughts drift, and an alternate theory forms. Phillips is the type of calculating that would drag Bucky into the viewing room just to show him what he's gotten into bed with, as if months in the field together hasn't shown him that already. Though, brutality is easier for a soldier to digest than lies, and those I have plenty of.

Just when I think someone's forced them to let me sleep the door opens, and I tilt my head at the sight of Peggy. She looks upon me with apprehension, no doubt aware of the conditions I've been held under and the still aching knife wounds I carry. They'll heal, but wounds tend to heal slowly with no sleep and minimal food. Right now my body's using its strength to keep me conscious, which is precisely what my captors want.

Peggy steps inside fully, shutting the door behind her, and I wear a bitter smile.

"Well, doesn't this bring back memories?" I remark and she sighs in immediate exasperation, and perhaps a little guilt. "Oh come on Peg, I've been doing this for three days. Surely you can last a minute."

"I'm not here to interrogate you."

"Oh?"

"The widow, I conducted a search to find her, but our trail ran cold," she informs me and a lump forms in my throat. "So, do with that information what you will."

Deep anger surfaces to mask the fear that pounds in my chest, and I set my sights on her. "Any efficient agent understands the concept of eliminating a threat and leaving no witnesses, but you prevented me from doing both, which means that the lives of every single person involved in that operation and their families are now at risk. I hope you understand that."

"The identities of the Howling Commandos are public, and we'd be shocked if your former agency hadn't put together files on them long ago," Peggy calmly dismisses, still not understanding. "There's no greater risk than what's already existed."

"Except for them being complicit in a war crime against an Allied state," I remind her. "American soldiers shooting dead Soviet soldiers in a dispute over a government asset, and now there's a witness to attest to it, so congratulations Carter. I can't wait to see what the SSR does to make this disappear."

"Don't you dare put this on me," she warns, and her voice is darker than I've ever heard it. "We went there to save your life, and we secured your safety first and foremost because you were our objective." Her voice wavers now. "Because you were our friend. So don't you dare carry on like this after we risked our lives to save yours."

"And you've still failed to comprehend how dangerous that woman is," I warn, and she shakes her head in silent frustration with me. "You still haven't comprehended how dangerous I am."

"How many nights have I spent sleeping in the same room as a woman who slit the throats of her last roommates?" she bluntly dismisses. "I'm aware."

"There's a difference between awareness and comprehension, Peg," I remind her, and her jaw clenches just slightly in contemplation. "Has anyone told you that you use arrogance as a shield? Or perhaps ignorance would be more appropriate. Putting on this modest matronly act to convince yourself that you have greater standing in the SSR than you actually do. Detaching and emotionally starving yourself to kill the little girl who couldn't understand why she didn't get the same treatment as her brother, and now she's grown up into a woman who still can't accept her position in this world."

Peggy's rendered silent, utterly bewildered by the approach I've taken as she stares in almost heartbroken offence at being read aloud, and I keep going.

"You condition yourself to mimic men for their approval, putting on a stern voice and strong shoulders, but you become utterly disconnected from the nature of women," I note. "Perhaps the greatest irony is that in the field I'd done just the same in an attempt to convince myself that they'd see me as an equal too, but no."

"Good god, Adeline," Peggy scoffs at the trail I start on. "This is hardly the time for-"

"When you've been stripped to the bone and remade, you learn that some feminine qualities can never be truly removed," I tell her, swallowing a feeling that I've been startlingly aware of since the altercation on the train with Doreteya. A feeling I thought I'd buried along with several bodies years ago. "A need for female connection. To simply exist with another person without having to perform for men. You and I both thought we were above such things, that girlhood was a distant dream, and perhaps that's why we became so close."

"Where are you going with this?" she demands to know with a slight shake to her voice, and I tilt my head, not knowing either.

"I'd never trusted a woman until you, not completely," I reveal. "Even as a nurse I was suspicious of the girls I called friends, but that run in with the widow... it made me remember just how intimacy was punished. How connection, desire, envy, friendship, suspicion, seduction... murder, all became one and the same." I study her unsettled expression before saying, "I thought it was different with you, but here we are. You're standing there and I'm sitting here. Right back where we started."

And so she steps forward, removing my handcuffs while still being unable to meet my eye. "I can assure you that I don't like this any more than you."

"I find that hard to believe."

"By the way, you've been cleared of any accusations of treason," she finally informs me, before muttering under her breath, "By a miracle. You'll be returning to your duties effective immediately."

"Ah, I could almost be back in Moscow with this type of whiplash, not even getting a break between being imprisoned and put back to work," I remark as I push myself to my feet, wincing at the pain that shoots through my abdomen, and she immediately moves to brace me. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," she dismisses. "When was the last time a nurse checked on you."

"I am a nurse, and I believe that was on the plane here," I say, and her face falls. "At least they allowed me the dignity of the bathroom twice a day, that's more than I got back home."

Peggy opens the door to the viewing room and immediately begins yelling at whoever's inside while I brace myself on the table I'd been chained to. She returns with a fresh set of clothes and a medical kit.

I don't hesitate when she begins removing my clothing to check the state of the wounds I received, and she assures me, "I kicked everyone out of there, it's just us now."

"I wouldn't care either way considering privacy isn't exactly something I've ever been accustomed to," I remark, feeling the burn of the alcohol she wipes over the wound in my leg, where the artery had been pierced and severed. "The bitch played dirty."

"I can see that," she swallows. "No wonder Barnes was beside himself."

"Watching your bleeding fiancé get put into handcuffs would do that to any decent man," I say, swallowing my lingering concern on what state he must be in. "But what do I know?"

"According to Howard Barnes took a swing at Phillips right after we left," Peggy tells me, and despite my disapproval at doing something so reckless a smile twitches at my lips. "It landed well."

"Good."

"And Steve had to intervene to stop Barnes from receiving a dishonourable discharge."

"Not good," I grimace, and finally bring myself to ask, "Is he alright?"

"I'm assuming you mean Barnes rather than Phillips, and no," she answers bluntly. "I don't know how he isn't dead with how much he's drunk the past few days. Phillips said he didn't want to even look at anyone involved with that mess in Finow and so Howard's put Rogers and Barnes in one of his apartments. It's a good thing considering your fiancé would try to finish what you started if Phillips opened his mouth."

My lips part, unable to recall ever seeing Bucky drunk. He'll drink with the men, but never excessively, and even then he's always held his liquor well. He's not that type of man.

Or at least he wasn't before me.

Peggy starts going on how they realised I was missing and their trip to Finow, but my thoughts remain solely on Bucky. On my fiance who probably doesn't even know where I am, and my thoughts remain with him until I'm brought out of the cell and into the hallway where I come face to face with Howard.

"I'm so sorry about all of this," he says but I can only gawk at the bruised face he carries.

"They've been waiting to pin something on me," I dismiss, reaching out to touch what is a much fresher black eye than the one I watched him get. "If I recall right you only had one of these when I left Finow."

He grimaces and it hits me a second later than it should've. "James-"

"Had been holding that one in since I tried to kiss you in New York," Howard shrugs off. "And like I told him, I can't blame him for it. He's been worried sick, and he's sure as hell angry with me for taking you there, but not as mad as he is with Phillips for arresting you."

I can only hum in frustration and Peggy's the one who defends Bucky. "He was worried sick when you disappeared, looking all around London for you for hours before Phillips called us in to tell us that you'd been declared missing. He's been utterly beside himself for days and you weren't exactly considerate of the stress we'd been under when we found you."

"I'm sorry if I wasn't exactly cheery after being stabbed by a girl that got away," I bite back, and she exhales heavily. "You can all be angry with me but I'm not going to apologise for how I handled the situation. My only regret is not shooting her when I had the chance."

"We were miles from any Soviet camp," Peggy tries to assure me. "Chances are she bled out-"

"Her and I were conditioned not to fail and neither of us will let this go until she's dead," I say curtly, an old panic pounding in my chest as I try to get her to understand. "Do you think either of us made it this far by failing missions? No. If the Red Room hasn't killed her for her failure then she's not going to rest until she's finished it. She isn't like the others I've dealt with Peg, she's obsessive-"

"And you are damn fortunate that Howard's falsified account of the story kept you out of prison for taking it upon yourself to execute a general while asserting loyalty to the Soviet Union," she lectures and I just roll my eyes. "And becoming obsessed with one rogue agent will only compromise your ability to operate-"

"Yes, to operate for a country that believes a dead Russian is better than a dead American," I spit out, and Howard steps between us to try to calm me down. "That's what we are to the Allies aren't we? Just cannon fodder. What is it that they say? That this war will be won with British brains, American steel, and Russian blood. Blood that the American government is happy to help spill since it seems they'll always protect their own as long as they're the right colour and speak the right language rather than take accountability for the actions of a General who shared the same damn beliefs as the Nazis!"

Peggy's quiet now and Howard's expression is pained. My perfect American accent is long abandoned and I look down at the fresh marks around my wrists from the handcuffs I've spent the last day in. I was born as an American citizen, and yet where is the liberty they so often speak of?

"And it's apparent to me now that I'm just as expendable to the SSR, and that I was a fool to ever believe otherwise," I say thickly, forcing myself to admit that I am not immune to the propaganda of the American dream. "At this point I'd be proud to be charged with treason against it."

"Ada," Peggy says harshly. "How could you possibly believe that we see you as expendable after the suicide mission we sanctioned to get you back? And don't you dare forget what your own government did to you, because we both know damn well your imprisonment by the SSR was a holiday in comparison to what was done to you in Russia."

I'm fighting back tears now as she steps closer.

"And you are utterly deluded to think for even a second that your own men would abandon you, or Howard and I for that matter," she continues, and I can't look her in the eye. "God, you must be because you can't even accept the fact that you're own damn fiance was out of his mind terrified that he'd find you dead."

Finally I speak, and my voice is strained. "And you all should have left me for dead instead of risking your lives."

"That may be how they do things where you were raised, but not here," she says firmly. "So don't you dare shut us out now."

But they don't know just how compromised I've become by this mission. They don't know that I'm not free as long as my mother has Moscow believing that I'm acting as a double agent. An agent that they have every intention of bringing back to the Red Room.

And so I turn my back on her despite her protests, promptly exiting the building and not looking back, even as Howard chases me down the street.

"Ada, Ada!" he calls out until finally I stop and look back at him with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not angry with you, Howard."

"And that's a relief, but that's not important right now," he says, and he steps closer, lowering his voice. "They're onto you, Peggy and Barnes. They know something isn't right, that the only reason the Russians wouldn't have arrested you on sight is because they think you're still working for them."

"They think I'm a double agent?" I swallow unevenly, but he hesitates in his answer.

"No, not willingly at least," he says, but he sounds uncertain. "I kept quiet about everything you said and set them straight for even considering it, but they're putting two and two together."

"Fuck," I curse under my breath.

"Ada," Howard says carefully. "Would it be so bad if they knew the truth? You're still innocent in this. You haven't been doing Russia's dirty work-"

"Do you honestly believe the SSR would believe that if this came to light?"

"Maybe not the SSR," he admits. "But Peggy's your best friend, and Barnes is your fiancé-"

"Yes, he's my fiancé because I've protected him from the worst of my past," I exclaim, my composure slipping. "I thought it would go away. I thought I could be someone else and that it wouldn't matter ten years down the track, but the Red Room's never going to let me go," I finally confess out loud, and Howard's expression contorts in pain. "They sent that widow to bring me back, and I... I don't know what else to do but lie." Which is something Howard can understand. "Bucky and Peggy are good and honest people who love their countries. They aren't like us. And if- if they knew the extent of the lies I've told them there'd be no coming back from that."

But Howard doesn't look so sure.

"What?" I ask, and he hesitates, looking around before leaning in closer.

"I've been shacked up with your fiancé for the past few days and he's been a damn mess," he says, and I look down at my shoes. "Just yesterday I watched him drown an entire bottle of whiskey and more in a few hours."

I don't catch Howard's meaning. "Yes, Peggy told me that he's been drinking too much."

"Ada," Howard says seriously, inflecting his next words carefully. "All he's done is drink and I've barely seen him stumble." My stomach sinks and slowly I look up to meet his eye. "Only person I've ever seen hold their drink that well is you. Tell me, have you ever seen him drunk?"

There's a tremble in my voice as I answer, "He never drinks that much around me. He knows I don't like drunks."

"Yeah well, you haven't been around," he bluntly remarks. "Ada, I know how you found him in that prison. Zola-"

"No," I say shortly, refusing to consider it as I'm struck by the implications of what it would mean "No. He was tortured, but- no." Howard tilts his head, but I shake mine. "Howard. No."

He places a hand on my rigid shoulder, leaning in to say, "You haven't been the only one lying in your engagement, Ada."

I refuse to look at him, I refuse to acknowledge his words, and remain silent as he presses a set of keys into my hand.

"As far as I know he's been called back to base," Howard informs me. "So you better decide what you're going to do before he finds you."

Howard leaves me with those words and I'm forcing back tears as dozens of small moments form a full picture in my mind.

No. No.

I've read Erskine's files. He sabotaged the serum after I survived it and was imprisoned.

Zola was never able to recreate the serum after me.

It's not possible. Bucky was tortured. He was experimented on.

He- no. I can't have been this blind.

No. It can't be possible.

~

Bucky

I'm summoned to Colonel Phillips' office, and when I enter he sits alone with a single file on the desk that separates him from me. His face is still bruised, another reminder of how much shit I'm in, but he only seems exhausted.

"Sit down, Barnes," he instructs, and wordlessly I obey. "Do you know when I got my last black eye? 1922." He pauses, shaking his head before looking at me properly. "Adelina's father gave it to me."

"Smart man then," I remark, and he decides to ignore me.

"We'd fought together, almost died together more times than I can remember, and I counted him as a brother, but then Viktoriya Vetrova entered the picture," he says, speaking that name with more hate than he's ever given Ada, which is saying something. "It was 1918 and she was masquerading as a runaway Imperial ballerina volunteering as a nurse. She was a pretty thing, too smart for her own good, but something never added up." He scoffs now under his breath, "And they wondered why I threw a fit when Adelina enlisted as a nurse."

My throat tightens upon realising just what speech he's giving me, but I keep my mouth shut.

"I tried telling William that from the beginning, but he wouldn't listen. He fell head over heels in love with that woman and wanted to give her everything he had. Even after we found out that this supposedly displaced aristocrat was the daughter of some poor old bastard who was mowed down as cannon fodder on the Eastern Front, but he still defended her, ave her the benefit of the doubt every time she got caught in a lie and said she didn't grow up the same way we did. Even when his family disowned him for it. Hell, she'd turned him into a Bolshevik sympathiser within a month of knowing him and he'd put a ring on her finger not long after that."

I remain silent, trying not to let my face reveal anything.

"The thing was, she'd settled for him after making her way through every other man in her general vicinity because, god rest his soul, he was dumb and rich," Phillips says bluntly. "So they got married and I watched her suck the life out of him for years, trying for kids with no luck for years. Then one day he caught her in bed with some communist and he finally grew a pair and told her to get the hell out of his house, only for her to turn up pregnant a month later."

My eyes widen at what he insinuates, but I've seen photos of him and Ada together. He's her father, and that's that.

"He took her back in and I tried to set him straight, told him that he's going to be raising the spawn of that whore and some Marxist and he damn near knocked me clean out," Phillips reveals. "So it's safe to say that he would've liked you."

"Ada's shown me photos, she looks just like her dad," I dismiss, knowing how much Ada revered him, but Phillips just shakes his head, seeming to know something else he isn't saying.

"And like the commie her mother was screwing," he dismisses in turn. "But her father took the slightest chance she was his and clung to that, and here we all are now."

"Why the hell are you telling me this?" I ask him, not understanding his motives here. "Why-"

"I'm not an idiot Barnes. You love that girl but you're naive, just like her father was." I scoff but he's not done. "He didn't know what he was marrying, but I thought that you should." He pushes a file forward labelled Red Widow. "She's been released from her cell and cleared of the charges of treason against her, or well at least any new ones. I want you to read that file front to back and if you still trust her around your men then she can go back into the field."

I swallow hard. "That's Steve's call to make-"

"Sergeant," he says shortly. "Read the damn file."

"What's in there isn't going to change anything," I say, but neither of us sound convinced.

"Then there's no harm in knowing, is there?"

And so Phillips leaves, closing the door behind him.

The heavy file stares up at me, and it stays untouched for half an hour before I can finally bring myself to open it, if only to prove to myself that I know her better than the SSR does.

To prove that she's only told me the truth.

That I know the woman I'm marrying.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's been so long! I've started a Master of History and I've been working part time, but still every day so I've been busy, but I have every intention of continuing this fic and I swear that eventually we will reach the 21st century!

I hadn't planned to begin my masters this year, in fact I'd planned to be travelling oversees right now instead of working and studying, but the humanities are under attack within Australian universities as well as globally (in Australia it seems to be private bodies and universities independently deciding these cuts rather than the current government, although they are on thin ice too), and I was worried that if I put it off for a few years that the degree simply wouldn't exist anymore and current events have pushed me to finish it sooner than later.

I've found that I tend to take a break from this story when major global events happen, such as when Ukraine was invaded, and while I'm an Australian it is certainly feeling a lot like the 1930s at the moment on a global scale. As such expect major criticisms of fascism, authoritarianism, and governments in general while reading this chapter and the rest of the story. Fascism has not been this prevalent since the second world war, and as an amateur historian I am nearly fist fighting certain family members of mine who think Australia needs a Prime Minister like a certain politician over in America. 

To my readers in the United States, especially those being targeted by the current administration, know that the world is watching and while your social media and television networks may be heavily censored, it does appear that the tide is changing as far as support for the administration goes. You are in my thoughts daily, and I hope that you are safe and remain safe, but unfortunately for certain demographics I know this isn't the case so keep protesting and resisting and reading and educating yourself without losing faith that there will be better days.