Captain Carter and Agent Rogers

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/20330698.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con
Category: F/M
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel,
Captain America (Movies), Agent Carter (TV), Agent Carter (Marvel
Short Film)
Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes & Peggy Carter, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Character: Peggy Carter, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Timothy "Dum
Dum" Dugan, Jim Morita
Additional Tags: Peggy Carter as Captain America, Protective Bucky Barnes, Peggy
Carter - Freeform, Bucky Barnes & Peggy Carter Friendship, Attempted
Rape/Non-Con, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships,
Stark Expo, Alternate Universe, Roommates, Implied/Referenced
Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Recovery, Explicit
Language, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Peggy Carter
Feels, Hurt Peggy Carter, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical
Sexism, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape Aftermath, Protective Steve
Rogers, Hospitalization, Stabbing, Blood and Violence, Past Rape/Non-
con, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Sexual Violence, Super Soldier Serum
(Marvel), Super Soldier Peggy Carter
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2019-08-20 Updated: 2023-01-27 Chapters: 8/? Words:
27203

Captain Carter and Agent Rogers

by CaptainPeggyCarter21

Summary

Having grown up on the streets of Brooklyn, Peggy Carter has always had to fight to
survive. Luckily, her best friend Bucky Barnes has always had her back. Together, they've
always managed to get by, but things are about to change.
Agent Steven Rogers doesn't get any respect from his peers because his asthma prevented
him from serving in the Army. Still wanting to serve his country, he joined the SSR instead.
When he volunteered to head up Project Rebirth, he had no idea what he was getting into.

Notes

See the end of the work for notes

 Bucky Barnes Saves the Night

“Betty, there you are! We’re ready to go. Come on.” Peggy exclaims innocently.

“My name is Martha.” The woman looks at Peggy confused.

Peggy rolls her eyes and chuckles, “You gotta work with me. I’m trying to get you away from him.
Clearly, you don’t want to be here.”

A burly man growls, “You don’t know anything about this. Why don’t you get out of here before
you get hurt.”

“I know she looks very uncomfortable. I’m also pretty sure she said ‘no’ before you dragged her
back here.” Peggy looks around, stalling while she searches her bag for her knife. “Behind the
dumpster in an alley, real classy.”

“You know what. She’s not even worth it.” He releases his grip on Martha, and she runs.

Peggy turns to leave, still reaching for the knife. Before she can find it, he grabs her arm and spins
her around.

“You, on the other hand, got a little life in you.”

"Don't touch me," she snarls, attempting to pry her arm away.

"Oh, don't be coy, sweetheart. I’ve seen you around Brooklyn and heard all about you." He pulls
her toward him, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She struggles to break free, but he only pulls her closer, "Come on, little lady. You don't want to
tire me out before we even get started."

She groans. With her right arm locked tightly in this stranger's grasp, she's forced to punch with her
left. He easily blocks it but releases her hips. She's able to jerk her right arm free and run away.

She only makes it a few feet before he grabs her from behind. She thrusts her elbow into his
stomach as hard as she can.

He grabs her wrist as he doubles over, coughing. "Alright, that's enough playin' around."

He backhands her, his ring splitting her cheek open.

She crashes to the ground, barely able to break her fall in time. "This what does it for you, pain?
Does your wife get all this special treatment?" She spits blood on the ground.

"If I did this with my wife," he grabs her hair and pulls her to her feet, "I wouldn't need you." He
shoves her into the alley wall.

She breathes hard, survival instincts going wild. He has her pinned to the wall by both wrists. The
brick scrapes across her face, tearing open the gash on her cheek.

She silently curses herself for not having her knife ready. She knew better. This city had a lot to say
about her, but no one could ever say she wasn't a fighter. Unfortunately, that's what attracted so
many creeps.
She can feel his chest pressing against her back as he leans in, smelling her hair. His breath on her
neck makes her skin crawl.

"Get the hell off me," she growls.

"I like your spirit." He pushes in closer.

She squirms under his weight, trying desperately to break free. She closes her eyes, forcing back
tears. She takes long, deep breaths trying to ease the sick feeling in her stomach. She knows she'll
lose this fight.

"Hey!"

Peggy lets out a breath, relief flooding over her, when she hears Bucky's voice.

"Don't you have a wife to harass?"

"Do I know you?" The man pulls away from Peggy a little.

"No, which means you don't live around here. Which makes me 95% certain you're married. Now,
back the fuck up before I make you."

He reluctantly lets go of her wrists and backs away. As soon as she has enough room, Peggy whirls
around, throwing a punch into his jaw.

Bucky winces, "Nice hook, Peg." He keeps an eye on the man, waiting to see if he’ll retaliate.

When the man walks away, Bucky steps to the side and watches him walk down the street.

When he's satisfied the man isn't coming back, Bucky turns back to Peggy, "What were you
thinking running off by yourself at this time of night? I turned around and you were gone. I've been
looking for you for half an hour.”

She groans, “I didn’t want to go to the Stark Expo to begin with. Then you picked up the first girl
you came across.”

He looks hurt, “Peggy, I didn’t think-”

“No, Bucky. You know I don’t care who you date. Hell, if you give me a warning, I’ll even take
an extra shift so you can have the apartment to yourself.” She lets out a frustrated sigh, “Just, don’t
drag me across town so you can go looking for someone to take home.”

He takes her gently by the chin, examining her bloody cheek. He shakes his head, "Come on. I
think we have some peas in the freezer.”

“It can wait. Go finish your date. I promise to stay in well lit, very public places,” She laughs.

“Yeah, I don’t think that date’s going to happen now.”

She looks at the ground. “Sorry.”

He shrugs. “How'd that guy get the drop on you, anyway?"

"What do you mean? I had him right where I wanted him."

"Of course you did, Kitten," he laughs, wrapping his arm around her.
She shrugs his arm off, "Don't call me that."

He acts hurt, "But everyone calls you kitten."

She shoves him, "Are you looking for a broken nose, Mr. Barnes? Because you're about to find
one."

He laughs, “You’re clearly not enjoying this. How about we go dancing?”

“You know I don’t dance.”

“You just need to find the right partner. Come on, tonight I’ll be your wingman.”

He offers her his arm. Laughing, she takes it, and they leave the Expo together.

Four hours later, they both laugh as Bucky opens the door to their apartment. The room is ice cold,
and when he flips the light switch, nothing happens.

They both sigh.

"Well, now we know how long it takes the electric company to realize we didn't pay," Peggy
laughs hollowly.

Bucky buttons his coat back up, "Well, at least those peas should still be cold." He smiles at her
weakly, turning on the flashlight on the table before walking to the freezer.

Peggy folds the bed out from the wall and gets the entire stack of blankets from the corner of the
room. She lays half on the bed and the other half in the chair next to the bed.

Bucky walks in with the bag of mostly frozen peas. “What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep.” She takes her coat and scarf off, dropping them on the floor. “I worked ten hours
straight and then stayed out with you all night.” She sits down in the chair, still wearing her dress.

“You can’t sleep there. It’s going to get a lot colder, and you’re already shivering. You’ll freeze.”
He grabs the blankets from the chair and lays them out over the bed. “We both will.”

“The heat was nice while it lasted,” she jokes lightly as she moves to the bed. She takes the bag of
peas from him and holds them on her face.

“Do you work another double tomorrow?” When she nods, he groans and continues, “I don’t like
you working late when I can’t walk you home.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not the only one who has to walk home in the dark.”

“Then let them walk you home for once. Those girls are not your responsibility, Peggy.” His eyes
are pleading.

“And I’m not yours.”

There’s a long silence as he takes his shirt off and climbs into the bed. “Come here so you can steal
my body heat.”

She slides over, pulling the blankets up. “I do not.”

“Yeah, you do.” He wraps his arms around her. “But it’s fine. You probably need it more.”
 Bucky Barnes Does Not Save the Night
Chapter Summary

A view into the lives Peggy and Bucky. This chapter goes deeper into their
relationship and Bucky's protective side.

Chapter Notes

This chapter is rough. Just a warning.

Peggy opens the front door, already sliding her shoes off as she walks in.

“Hey, Kitten!” Bucky is entirely too lively for her current energy level.

“No.”

“You’ve been home six seconds. How could I possibly have pissed you off?”

“Your face is too happy.”

He immediately replaces his smile with the biggest frown he can manage. “What should we do
today?”

“I just finished an eight-hour shift. I want to go to sleep.”

“Oh, yeah.” He smiles again, “Could you try to keep it down in the mornings. It took me twenty
minutes to fall back asleep.”

She throws a shoe at him. He dodges, rolling over the opposite side of the bed.

He sticks his head up, “I’m serious. It was 4:30.”

She throws the other shoe.

“Come on, Peg. It’s Saturday. It’s just common courtesy.”

“I’m running out of things to throw. Keep it up, and I’ll just have to hit you.”

“Easy, Kitten,” he chuckles.

“Oh, you want to get hit?” She laughs moving across the room.

“I want to cheer you up. You look like shit. Go take a shower, and we’ll get some lunch.”

She begins to protest, but he interrupts, “And then you can take your nap.”

She reluctantly agrees. A few moments later, she comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel,
hair dripping. “You know what I miss more than heat? Hot water.”

He laughs, “Your lips are turning blue.”

“Then throw me some clothes!”

She gets dressed and comes back out, “Where do you want to go?”

“Probably not the diner?”

She rolls her eyes, “Definitely not. You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

“Try me.”

She groans, rolling her eyes. “It was awful.”

“Bad tips?”

“I wish that were my only problem. One of the regulars has been making passes at me. Today, he
smacked my ass and offered me a ride. And I’m fairly certain he takes the bus.”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing. That kind of stuff happens all the time.”

“Peggy, that’s not okay.”

“It’s not a big deal. Just let it go.”

“No. That’s how you get creeps following you home from work.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you do that by living with a man you haven’t married.”

“Oh, we’re going to the diner.” He’s out the door before she can argue.

“Bucky, I’m here sixty hours a week. This is the last place I want to be on my off time.” She
complains, walking through the door Bucky holds open for her.

“Are you ever going to learn to trust me?”

“Oh, God. You’re not going to make a scene, are you?”

He smiles at her, “That, my dear, is exactly what I’m going to do.”

“No. Bucky.” She lays her head down on the table. “I just wanted to go to sleep.”

“And after this you can. I’ll even lay down with you.”

She jerks her head up. “Oh, no. I want you and your schemes far, far away from me.”

“Well, Margaret, that’s just rude.”

They order and make small talk while they eat. Peggy tells him more about her shift. Bucky talks
about his classwork. They observe the other customers and joke about how boring their lives
would be if they hadn’t grown up on the street. When they finish, Peggy gets up to get them both a
slice of pie. When she gets back to the table, Bucky steps out of the booth and gets on one knee.

Peggy smiles at him, confused, and whispers “What are you doing?”

He whispers back, “Hopefully acting as a very strong deterrent to these men. Give me your hand.”

“Where did you even-”

“It was my mother’s. It’s her only piece of jewelry I didn’t sell. Now, give me your damn hand.
You’re embarrassing me.”

She slowly holds her left hand out toward him. “Then you should have warned me.”

“You needed to look surprised.” He slides the ring on her finger.

“This is ridiculous. Everyone here knows we’re not together.”

He stands up and pulls her close, “Then we’ll have to be convincing.”

“Oh, God. What are you -”

All eyes are on them. With one arm around her waist and the other behind her shoulders, he bends
her backwards into a dip and kisses her. Everyone in the diner starts murmuring to each other. They
hear a few comments about “little love birds.” After several seconds, he stands back up straight,
bringing her with him.

“Do you think they’re convinced?”

Peggy clears her throat. “If that kiss had been any longer, you might have convinced me.”

He looks over, surprised to see her blushing.

“Peggy Carter, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you enjoyed that.”

“Well, you’ve always been a good kisser.” She smiles at him. “Now, can I please go to sleep?”

“After, you.” He waves his hand toward the entrance, and they make their way to the bus stop.

She takes the ring off and hands it back to Bucky.

He looks hurt. “No, this was for you.”

“Bucky, I am not taking your mother’s wedding ring from you.”

“Please wear it. Maybe it’ll keep you away from some of the trouble.” He holds it out to her.

She takes it back. “Fine, but only until you find a girl you’re ready to give it to.”

“Deal.” He smiles as she puts the ring back on. “You don’t work until lunch tomorrow, right?”

She drops into a seat on the bus. “Can we not talk about my work schedule?”

“We could if you didn’t work so much.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t eat so much.”

“Oh, it’s my fault now?” He laughs and pulls her into his side. “So, when do you work tomorrow?”
She leans her head on his shoulder, “Lunch.”

“Good. Let’s go out tonight. I bet we can get someone to buy our dinner if I propose again.” She
laughs weakly in response. “Night, Kitten.”

“I don’t want to sleep on the bus.”

“You are ridiculously stubborn. It’s a twenty-minute ride. Shut up and get some rest.”

“Angie, you can go when you finish sweeping. Peggy, I need to talk to you when you’re done
closing out the register.” The diner manager said, leaning out his office door.

“Sure, John, it’ll only be a minute.” Peggy calls back.

When Angie finishes sweeping, she puts the broom away and grabs her purse from John's office.
“Night, Peg.”

“If you’ll wait a minute, Angie, I can walk you home.”

“No, it’s early enough that I can take the bus tonight. I’ll be fine.” She smiles, “See you in the
morning?”

“Not if I can help it,” Peggy laughs. “I’m not scheduled again until Thursday.”

Angie waves and walks out the door. Not long after, Peggy closes the register and makes her way
back to the office.

She knocks on the open door before walking in. “You wanted to talk?”

“Have a seat, Miss Carter.” He motions to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

After she’s seated, he continues, “What are your plans here, now that you’re soon to be married?”

“I expect nothing will change.” She answers slightly confused.

“Your husband will approve of you working?”

“Well, marriage doesn’t mean we’ll suddenly have more money.” She laughs.

“Why would you agree to marry a man who can’t support you?” He raises an eyebrow and begins
fidgeting uncomfortably, “Did you two make a mistake?”

“We didn’t do anything.” She glares at him, still smiling. “Although, I can’t understand how you
have any business asking me that.”

“My waitresses are my business.” He says casually, walking around to the other side of his desk.
He stands directly in front of her, then leans back slightly, resting against the front edge of his
desk.

Peggy shifts uneasily in her seat.

“So, tell me. If there’s nothing tying you to this roommate of yours,” his voice drips with
disapproval, “why would you agree to marry him if he can’t support you?”

“He’s in school. We’ll be fine.” She slides toward the edge of the chair, shifting her weight in
preparation to run if her suspicions turn out to be correct.

“Still, a dame as beautiful as yourself is certainly capable of attracting a man who is capable of
taking care of her.”

“I don’t need taking care of.” Peggy answers through gritted teeth, standing up.

He pushes her back into the chair so hard, it tips over backwards. The moment she hits the ground,
Peggy rolls backwards, attempting to put distance between the two of them. She scrambles to her
feet and sets her sights on the door.

John has already caught up to her and grabs her wrist. Peggy can feel her skin burn under his hand
as she tries to twist her arm free. He jerks her back toward himself, and she throws her elbow into
his nose.

He immediately releases her wrist. “Fucking whore!”

She abandons her plan to escape, instead running to her purse in the corner. She dumps the
contents on the floor and quickly grabs her pocketknife. She spins around, slicing across his cheek
by sheer luck. Then, taking full advantage of the moment, she kicks in his knee causing him to
collapse.

Again, she runs for the door. This time she makes it out of the office and across the dining area.
Despite his injury, she can hear him approaching quickly behind her, though she dares not slow
down to turn around. When she gets to the front door of the diner, she finds it locked.

“Shit.” She curses under her breath, quickly rifling through her apron pockets for the key.

Just as she pulls the key from her pocket, John grabs her shoulder and pulls. She whirls around
knife first. She cuts his arms as he blocks her swings, until he grabs her knife with his bare hand.
Blood immediately drips down the blade and over her hand before pooling onto the floor.

He yanks the weapon away from her and passes it to his other hand. He grabs her by the bicep,
smearing blood across her skin and uniform. She struggles against him, knowing he’s much
stronger than she is. He drags her back through the diner into his office, Peggy fighting against him
the entire time.

“I tried to be gentle with you,” he snarls in her ear, “but now you’ve pissed me off.”

“Go to hell.” Peggy groans.

When they’re back in the office, he pulls her arm backward, turning her to face him. She throws her
right knee into his stomach, but he blocks with the hand holding the knife. Peggy inhales sharply at
the sting of metal tearing her flesh. She can barely stand on her freshly wounded leg; he easily
pushes her back to the wall with only one hand.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I far exceed your standards,” he scoffs.

Peggy slams both hands into his chest, shoving him back. She lets out a whimper as, again, the
knife slices her right forearm. She continues to throw punches and elbows toward his face, tears
building as her arms are shredded by her own knife.
Luckily, John has no skill with the knife. He only counters her attacks, blocking solely by natural
reaction. But it’s enough to wear her down. She takes a deep breath, gathering the last of her
strength. Using her entire body weight, she slams her shoulder into his diaphragm.

He tumbles back with an audible gasp. He’s laying on the floor between Peggy and the door, but
she knows he won’t be down long. The gash in her leg is already screaming from her effort. She
takes another deep breath and holds it, preparing for the pain. She lunges forward, launching
herself over John. Again, he lashes out on pure instinct.

She screams in agony as her knife bites through her Achilles tendon. The moment her foot touches
down, she collapses. She twists around, trying to minimize the impact of her fall. Her head slams
into the floor so hard, her vision blurs.

She groans, pushing herself off the floor only to be shoved back down again. She feels his crushing
weight on top of her as he presses the blade against her neck.

“Do you see what you’ve done?” He pants, breathless. “I never wanted to hurt you, honey.”

Her neck starts to burn as the knife cuts into her skin with every movement. She’s trapped. And
this time, Bucky’s not waiting around the corner. She’s alone, and she’s not getting away.

Bucky whistles as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. His date in Manhattan had gone
exceptionally well. He pulls the keys from his pocket, ready to open the door, but it’s already
unlocked.

He opens the door confused; Peggy always locks the door behind her. Walking in, he looks
immediately to the floor on his right. Nothing.

Something was wrong. Peggy never took more than two steps inside with her shoes on, and she
never puts them away.

“Peggy?” He calls, cautiously looking around.

As he kneels to investigate what appears to be droplets of blood, he hears retching in the bathroom.
He jumps up, reaching the bathroom in only a few strides.

“Peg, what’s going-” He stops short when he enters the room. The sight of her curled up in the
corner, covered in blood leaves him speechless.

Bucky studies her; Peggy stares at his shoes. They’re both silent until another convulsion racks
Peggy’s body, and she leans over the toilet to vomit. Bucky quietly steps forward and pulls the hair
out of her face. He shudders at the sticky feeling of coagulated blood under his hands.

When she sits back, he grabs the towel from the sink. He rinses it and begins gently working the
mats out of her hair.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers to himself as he begins to grasp the extent of her injuries.

She leans forward and throws up again, then continues dry heaving for several more minutes.

As the shuddering eases, Bucky looks her over. “What the hell happened to you?”

She doesn’t react. She doesn’t even turn to look at him. She stands up unsteadily, supporting all her
weight on her left side. “I need a shower.”

Bucky nods, even though she’s looking at the floor. “Okay. Do you want help?”

“I don’t think I can walk anymore.” She states calmly.

He holds out his arm, supporting her for the few steps it takes to cross the room. She lets out a
quiet whimper, tightening her grip when she steps on her right side. He turns his back to her as she
undresses. Normally, it wouldn't matter; they dress in front of each other all the time. But he knows
the last thing she wants right now is someone seeing her naked.

She groans and whimpers with every movement as the skin stretches and reopens her wounds. He
hears the water start running and, a few minutes later, a sharp inhale as the cold water hits her skin.
He turns back around.

“I’m going to wait here in case you need me.” He sits down outside the shower.

He’s drifting off to sleep when Peggy says, “I need your arm.”

He stands and rolls up his sleeve, then reaches his arm into the shower blindly. After a few
seconds, she takes his arm to steady herself. He strains considerably trying to support her weight
with only one outstretched arm, but he’s determined not to let her fall. His arm gets significantly
heavier as she bends over to turn off the water.

“I need a towel.” Despite the length of her shower, Peggy’s voice is still monotone.

He opens the cabinet and takes the top towel out. He carefully passes it around the shower curtain,
his back turned as far as he could manage.

“No, this one is white.” She hands it back.

He squats down to look under the sink and picks out a brown towel. “This is the only other color
we have.”

She sighs, taking it.

“I’m going to get you some clean clothes. I’ll only be a minute, but please be careful.”

“Stay.” A small hint of emotion creeps into her voice. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He leans against the wall, running a hand over his face. “Whatever you need.”

When she opens the shower curtain, she’s wrapped in her towel, hair dripping. There’s fresh blood
on the towel, and her right leg is already coated in blood from the slash above her knee. The
gouges on her neck and arms ooze more slowly. Bucky holds his arm out to her.

She shakes her head. “I want to try.”

She steps out of the shower, right leg first, leaning on the wall for support as she shifts her weight.
She grinds her teeth and snorts in pain, fighting back tears.

She sets her left foot down outside the shower and immediately shifts her weight back to it,
releasing the breath she’d been holding. She shuffles around, resting her shoulders on the wall,
then she slides down until she’s sitting.

As she wraps her arms around her knees, Bucky sits beside her. “Peggy, how did this happen?”
She stares ahead blankly for several seconds, then shakes her head slowly, blinking hard. “What?”

“You weren’t supposed to close today. You should have been home hours before me.”

She speaks slowly, trying to keep up with the conversation, “Helen asked me to cover so she could
go home early.”

“If I had known, I would have walked you home.” His voice breaks.

“It’s not your fault.” Seemingly more aware of the conversation, she smiles at Bucky, but her eyes
remain dull. “This wasn’t the first time, and it probably won’t be-”

“Yes. It will.”

He holds his hand out, palm up. She looks at it for a minute before laying hers on top. They sit
together in silence, their hands the only physical contact between them.

After a while, Bucky lets out a strained breath, “I would like to look at your injuries. Will you let
me?”

She nods absently.

He stands up and offers her his hand. She ignores it, choosing to try standing on her own. She
struggles and her legs wobble, but she gets up with several groans and a whimper. She yelps as she
begins putting weight on her right leg. When she lifts her left foot to take a step, her right knee
buckles under the weight.

Bucky catches her before she can fall too far. “Do you want me to carry you?”

Again, she nods absently.

He bends down and lifts her into his arms, careful not to move the towel out of place. He carries
her to the living room and sets her down in front of their dresser. He folds the bed out from the
wall.

“I can help you get dressed if you need.”

“No.” She states coldly.

He keeps his back turned until she gives him the all clear.

“Would you rather stand up or lay down?”

She doesn’t say anything, but hobbles over to the bed, whining with every step. Blood is still
seeping steadily from her leg, so she lays the towel down before sitting on the edge.

“What hurts the most?”

“Leg.”

He kneels in front of her, examining the gash above her knee. He slides the edge of her dress up
slowly, just enough to reveal the full wound. “Are there any farther up?”

When she shakes her head, he continues, “It’s not good. Tore through some muscle. May need
stitches.”
He walks to the dresser and takes out one of his older shirts. He tears it into strips as he walks back
to her. He kneels again and wraps a piece of fabric tightly around her leg, then moves to her ankle.

“This is bad, Peg. You need to see a doctor.”

“No.”

“Peggy, it’s-”

“No.”

He sighs, “Fine.” He wraps two strips around her ankle to provide a little stability.

He continues looking over the rest of her injuries. The cuts on her forearms are relatively minor,
but he still wraps a strip of fabric around each. He cringes when he realizes he can make out fingers
in the bruise on her wrist. He gently wipes the new blood out of her hair and inspects that gash as
best he can.

“You had a lot of blood on you when I got home. Are you sure that’s all of them?”

“It wasn’t all mine.” She begins trembling at the memory of his hands on her body. She can still
feel the blood from his broken nose, warm down her neck.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he whispers gently. “You’re with me now. I’m not going to let anybody hurt
you.”

She takes a deep, calming breath. Her voice is still shaky, “I know.”

“I just need to look at your neck.”

She lifts her chin.

“Well, it definitely could have been worse. He could have killed you.”

“I wish he had.” She says flatly. “If I had fought harder, maybe he would have.” She crawls to the
back of the bed and wraps her arms around her knees.

“Please don’t talk like that.” He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and pull her
tight against his chest, but he knows she’s not ready for that. “Peg, you gave him hell.”

“I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Get that out of your head right now.” His crawls up beside and mimics her pose, holding his hand
out like he did before. “It was not your fault. You’re stronger than any man I know, and you fight
harder than all of them combined. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He smiles to himself,
“Hell, if anything you should be proud. From what I could tell, you kicked ass today.”

She stretches her legs out straight and takes his hand in hers, laying them both gently in her lap.

“Do you want to go to sleep?”

“I don’t think I can.”

He nods. “How about a book?”

“I really just want to sit.”

“Okay.” He leans his back against the wall and looks at her.

She doesn’t move. He can tell she’s exhausted. He doesn’t know whether it’s fear or adrenaline,
but he does know she won’t get any sleep tonight. Her face is firm, focused on her thoughts. He
knew she was replaying it. Everything she could remember. Trying to find where she went wrong.
As much as it killed him, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing he could say to
convince her she wasn’t to blame.

“Why did I lock that goddamn door.” Her whisper is unintelligible.

“What?”

“I should have run faster. If I hadn’t tried to knee him, I wouldn’t have hurt my leg. I could have
gotten away.” She pauses for a moment, running the scenario again in her head. “I should’ve tried
harder to get up after that leap. I probably could have. I just didn’t try.” She runs through it again.
“I should’ve hit harder. Certainly, I can. Why didn’t I push through the pain?”

After three more run throughs, Bucky can’t take anymore. “Peggy?” He squeezes her hand.

She turns her head to look at his feet. “Yeah?”

He takes her by the chin and lifts up her face. She closes her eyes. “Look at me, please. Can you do
that?”

Her eyes flutter open slowly.

“I am not disappointed in you. You did nothing wrong.”

“No one else will believe that.”

“Then I’m the only one who matters. It was not your fault.”

She doesn’t respond, just looks away again.

He sighs, “What do you need?”

She leans into him. “Will you hold me?”

“Of course, Kitten.” He wraps his arms around her.

She gulps and shudders, remembering how that word made her skin crawl just hours before.

“No. Tell me he didn’t.” Bucky growls. When no response comes, he whispers under his breath.
“Fucking bastard.”

She begins to shake under his arms. He eases his grip, worried he was scaring her. She curls in
closer, so he pulls her back in tighter. About the time he feels her tears against his chest, she starts
gasping for air. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He lightly strokes her hair. “I have you. You’re safe now.” He leans
farther back, hoping if she lays down more, her exhaustion will overpower her fear and she might
get some rest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

He kisses the top of her head as his own tears begin to spill over. “I am so, so sorry.”
 Healing
Chapter Summary

Bucky helps Peggy recover from her injuries and has an encounter with John.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Peggy didn’t fall asleep until a few hours before sunrise. Bucky never fell asleep. He just held
Peggy tight, stroking her hair when he’d feel her stir with a nightmare.

When the sun begins breaking through the night, Bucky eases his way out from under Peggy. He
takes an extra blanket off the bed and drapes it across the window, so the morning light won’t
wake Peggy while he’s gone. If it’s anything like the last time, she would only sleep a few hours,
and he wanted to be back before she wakes up.

Bucky locks the door behind him and begins walking to the first open store he can find. He walks
for a mile and a half before reaching a convenience store. He quickly searches the aisles for
whatever first aid supplies they have. There’s not much, but at least they have the basics: fabric
bandages, adhesive bandages, gauze strips, aspirin, and various ointments and creams.

He lays everything out on the front counter, and the cashier gives him an apprehensive look.

“My wife slipped in the shower.” Bucky shrugs.

The cashier nods absently as Bucky takes out his wallet. After he pays, Bucky hurries back down
the street. He struggles to find his keys while balancing the paper grocery bag in one arm.

When a muffled yelp comes through the door, Bucky drops the bag on the ground and digs
furiously through his pockets. He jams the key into the lock and swings the door open. He hears
the continuous stream of whimpers before he sees Peggy trying to stand on her own.

“Peg, be careful!” He dashes to her side.

She leans into him for support and sighs with relief as the weight shifts off her injured leg. “I
thought you went to class.”

“Not today.” He shakes his head. “Probably not tomorrow either. You shouldn’t be putting any
weight on that leg.”

“I have to pee,” she whines.

He chuckles at the pained the look on her face. “Alright, I’ll carry you. How are you felling?” He
gently lifts her into his arms.

“Everything hurts.” She takes a shaky breath. “Every step, every stretch, every breath.”

He furrows his brow. “Well, you shouldn’t be stepping or stretching anyway. There’s nothing we
can do about the breathing though.”
Bucky leaves Peggy in the bathroom assuring her he’ll be right back. He ambles back to the front
door to retrieve the first aid supplies. He winces as he bends down to pick up the bag, his muscles
straining against the movement. He sets it on the bed and leans back, wincing again as he forces
his muscles to stretch. As he straightens, he massages his lower back with a groan.

“I’m too old to be-" His grumbling is interrupted by a thud.

“Shit!” echoes through the studio apartment.

Bucky runs to the bathroom, cursing the pain shooting up his back. When he enters the room, he
begins cursing for an entirely different reason.

“Goddamn it, Peggy! Why can’t you just ask for help?!”

She’s curled up on the floor, hands clamped around her right thigh. Blood is starting to soak
through the makeshift bandage from last night.

“I’m fine.” She grinds her teeth.

“No, you’re not,” he sighs, “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

He gets the aspirin, a bandage, and gauze, bringing them back to the bathroom. He finds Peggy
seated on the floor, leaning against the wall.

He smirks, “I told you not to move.”

“You were taking too long.” She rests her head on the wall.

Bucky passes her the bottle of aspirin and wets a washcloth. “This is going to hurt.”

He unwraps the scrap of fabric around Peggy’s leg and examines the wound with a grimace. He
takes a deep breath before he begins scrubbing as gently as he can manage. He murmurs to himself
as he works. If he had paid more attention in his anatomy class, he might know how bad off she
really was. Just because it looks bad, doesn’t mean it really is. If it doesn’t get infected, she might
be fine.

“You take a few years of pre-med and you think you know everything.” She chuckles dryly, eyes
barely open.

“I don’t. That’s why you need to see a doctor.”

“No.” Her eyes snap open and she goes rigid.

“Peg, I can’t fix this.”

“Not after the things they said last time.”

“That was different. You weren’t-”

“I was eighteen." She swallows hard and her eyes go dim. “They didn’t believe me then. They
certainly won’t treat me any better now.”

“I know,” he whispers, remembering how they barely even looked at her. The doctor gave her pain
meds and suggested she not be so open about their living arrangements.

She flinches as he digs the washcloth deeper into the gash.

“How're you holding up?”

“I can do this all day,” she smiles ashen faced and eyes fluttering closed.

He shakes his head and tosses the washcloth aside. He looks around for the antiseptic cream and
curses when he realizes he left it in the other room.

“Hey, you still with me?” He shakes her arm.

“Mhmm.” She attempts to nod.

“You gotta quit being so stubborn.” He lifts her up and carries her to the bed. “Rest and let me
help.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“And I told you you’re not.” He smears ointment across the long cut. “Luckily your knife was
pretty sharp, so these are pretty clean cuts.” He raises his voice, looking her in the eyes. “I’m
hoping if YOU REST, it’ll close up on its own.”

After he wraps her thigh, he moves on to her ankle. “This is the one I’m worried about.”

“It’ll be fine. I trust you.” She smiles, tensing as Bucky stretches and rotates her ankle.

He runs a hand down his face with a groan. “Peg, this is way out of my league.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short.”

“Is this all a joke to you?!” He snaps, glaring at her. “Peggy, you can’t walk. He easily could’ve
killed you.”

Her face goes dark, and her voice turns flat. “No, Buck. I don’t think it’s a joke. I was there.”

They sit in silence as he wraps her ankle tightly. He continues cleaning her other injuries, dressing
them as necessary. He curses under his breath when he notices new bruises. He’s sure more will
show up over the next week.

When he’s satisfied with his work, he leans back on his heels, rubbing his burning eyes. “I’m
sorry. I know you don’t think it’s funny. I just…I don’t know…”

She nods. “I know.”

“Do you need anything?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m going to try and get some ice and food” He grabs his keys off the bed and pauses at the door.
“Please stay put.”

Bucky walks into the diner and smiles at Angie.

She grins, “Where’s your fiancée?”

“She slipped in the shower. I’m just picking up some food and maybe a little ice.”
A look of concern spreads across Angie’s face. “Oh, poor thing! And she was really looking
forward to her time off. Let me talk to John and see if we can put your order on the house.”

Bucky thanks her as she walks away. He looks around observing the customers. It’s a slow day.
There are only a few men spread throughout. He turns around when he hears John.

There must have been an accident in the kitchen; Bucky notices a cut a John’s face. There’s
something off about that mark. He squints; it's pretty big with smooth edges. Actually, John has a
lot of cuts. Bucky stands up straight, squaring his shoulders. John's arms are almost covered in
nicks and slash marks.

He walks over, anger building in his chest. “John, can I talk to you for a minute about Peggy.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He pushes between John and Angie, continuing into the office. John
follows shortly after, closing the door behind them.

“Peggy’s going to need some time off while we figure out our next steps.” Bucky’s voice is
strained.

John takes a deep breath. “I suspected as much. She seemed certain you wouldn’t mind her
working, though. Dames always think they know, right?” He begins rifling through his desk
drawers. “I don’t think she’s scheduled for a few days, let me see…” He trails off.

Bucky watches his hands searching through the junk. One hand is bandaged, a small tinge of blood
seeping through across the palm. The uninjured hand sweeps a pocketknife aside, and Bucky loses
the little control he had.

“That’s Peggy’s knife.” He lunges at John, driving him into the wall. “Give me one good reason I
shouldn’t rip your throat right here.” His upper lip curls into a snarl.

“No one else will hire a broad with her reputation.” John chokes under Bucky’s forearm.

Bucky’s jaw muscles twitch. “She trusted you. They all do.”

"It's not like she didn't want it." John pulls at Bucky's arm, but it doesn't budge. "She's practically
begging for it living with a man out of wedlock."

Bucky leans more weight against his forearm and grabs John’s injured hand. He digs his thumb
into John’s palm, watching his eyes widen and his face go tense, unable to scream.

He whispers rabidly, “If you so much as look at her sideways ever again, I will tear you to shreds
with my bare hands.”

He releases John, maintaining eye contact. “Peggy’s not coming in for at least two weeks, probably
more. You will continue paying her while she recovers.” He walks to the door and pauses. “I’ll ask
Peggy what she typically makes in a week and come back Friday to collect.”

It was a week before Peggy could manage simply limping to the bathroom, and Bucky could go
back to class. His first day back at school, he brought home three different books about knife
wounds, wound care, and leg injuries. Peggy rested as much as she could while he was gone.
Getting to the bathroom was enough to exhaust her. When Bucky got home, he’d check the injuries
and change the bandages. After another week, he helped her with gentle stretching.
It was a month before Peggy could handle the stairs to the apartment, and another month after that
before she could work single shifts at the diner. After her first day back at work, she iced her thigh
and ankle all night, and Bucky had to skip class the next day to help her at home. Bucky spent
hours at the library every week learning about pain management options and stretches that would
help her recovery. The bruises were gone after a week or two, except for the especially hideous one
on her thigh. There was now a permanent indentation just above her heel where the Achilles tendon
didn’t heal quite right. The gashes on her neck left a few small scars. But, all in all, they were
doing alright.

Three months after the attack, Peggy was back to working almost full-time. John hadn’t bothered
her once, which was surprising. Any time she had to work past sunset, Bucky would bring his
books and study in the corner booth until she was ready to leave. At first, he had to physically help
her walk home, sometimes carrying her the last half mile. Now, that only happened after the
occasional, particularly hard double shift.

“So, you nervous?” Peggy looks at Bucky as they leave the diner.

“Why?”

“Finals are coming up, right?”

“I'll be fine,” he laughs, “With you around, I don’t have much time to worry about anything else.”

“Oh, you’re very funny.” She shoves him. “Are you excited then?”

“For what?”

“Oh, come on! You’re almost done.” She skips beside him. “After this, you only have one more
semester.”

He smiles at her. “Then we can get out of here. Both of us. Start over somewhere no one knows our
names.”

She smiles back, “No history.”

“You can get a real job and your own place.”

“You’re going to med school! I heard Baltimore is beautiful. What do you think of John’s
Hopkins?”

“I could get into John’s Hopkins,” he smiles, “And you could marry a doctor.”

“The odds would be in my favor.”

He drapes his arm over her shoulders, and, for once, she doesn’t shrug it off. “A few more months,
Miss Carter, and we’ll leave all this behind.”

Peggy stands outside the apartment searching her purse for the keys after being cut early due to a
slow lunch crowd. With the war in full swing, everyone’s cutting back. She’s honestly amazed she
still has a job. It’s a Saturday afternoon, which means Bucky should be home, and she really isn’t
in the mood to be cheered up. She braces herself for the inevitable “Hey, Kitten” and pushes the
door open.
 Silence.

Bucky is sitting slouched on the edge of the bed, holding a letter in one hand and rubbing his
forehead with the other. His face is pale, expression strained. His jaw is clenched, eyebrows
furrowed and he’s gripping the letter so hard his knuckles are turning white. Peggy’s shoulders
drop and a knot forms in her stomach. She hasn’t seen him like this since his father died, and he
was on his own.

He takes a deep breath without looking up. His voice is low and ragged. “We need to talk, Peg.”

Chapter End Notes

Comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated!

The story is about to start picking up, thanks for sticking with me!
 Time for a Change
Chapter Notes

I'm baaack!
I kinda forgot about this one. Oops. I'll try to update it more regularly now. Sorry if
this chapter's not great. I was just trying to get something written for you guys

“Marry me?”

Peggy fights back laughter. “What?”

“I’m serious. We get married, and after I finish boot camp, the Army will move us in together. We
can use your paycheck to move you out of Brooklyn in the meantime.”

“Buck, you don’t want to marry me,” she chuckles.

“Well, what do you want to do?” He raises his voice, standing, “You can’t stay here without me.”

“No.” She shakes her head, eyes going dull. She squeezes her eyes shut and inhales deeply. “No.”

He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Peg, this has been the plan since you
were in kindergarten.”

She looks up. “And no one bothered to tell me?”

“People get married for logistical reasons all the time,” he sighs, sitting back down beside her. “It
always made sense.”

“For who?” she scoffs.

“Separately, our families barely made it by, but together we actually had decent lives. Your parents
gave mine every cent they could spare to send me to college one day. There was an understanding
that when I graduated, we would get married.”

“How do you know that?” Her voice is low and quiet.

“After your dad died, my parents told me everything. They tried to set us up for an easier life.” He
locks eyes with her. “Peg, I wasn’t going to hold you to it. I always thought you’d meet someone
while I was in med school, and-”

“Then why are we working three jobs between the two of us and living without heat to pay for
your school?”

“I was barely out of high school when your mom died and you moved in with me. We had to live
on something.”

“Buck, I-” She leans toward him, taking his head in her hands. She kisses him softly; he flinches
away. She pulls him closer and kisses him harder.

He pushes her back. “What are you doing?”

“Making a point.” She sits back. “What do you want to do after we’re married?”

He hangs his head and sighs. “I don’t know what to do, Peg. I’m going to war whether we like it or
not. We’re out of time and options.”

They sit quietly, avoiding eye contact until Peggy straightens up with bright eyes. “I have an idea.”

“Please don’t say-"

“I’ll join the Women’s Army Corps!” She smiles.

“Oh, god! No, that’s even worse.” He takes her hand, eyes pleading. “Peggy, please just marry
me.”

“No, if you’re going, so am I.”

“You can come if you marry me!”

“And what? Sit around hosting a book club with the other wives while you chase women around
Europe? Not a chance.”

“Yes, Peg. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. Sit at home and bake or play bridge or
whatever you want, but for once in your life, stay out of the fight.”

“It’s not my fault trouble finds me.” She shrugs.

“It might not find you if you quit looking for it.” He rolls his eyes.

“But then what would you do all day?”

He runs a hand down his face. “You’re going to do it aren’t you?”

“I’m not going to let you have all the fun,” she smiles.

Despite leaving several days after Bucky, Peggy finished her initial training nearly six weeks
before he was scheduled to. She was assigned to Army Air Forces where she volunteered for every
deployment. After two weeks of rejections, she decided to take action.

She sits in her commander’s office as he paces back and forth, red-faced.

“Jesus, Carter!” He spits out. “What the hell is wrong with you? This little stunt is more than
enough to have you discharged. Is that what you wanted, huh? The Army too much for you?”

Peggy rolls her eyes, “No, sir. I just want to help our boys.”

“How did you plan on doing that?” He snorts at her. “Carter, you’re an Analyst. You can’t even
fire a rifle.”

“I can do my job just as well in Germany as I can here, sir.” Peggy answers level-headed.

“Exactly. There’s no need for you to go with the boys.”

“I’m every bit the soldier they are, sir.”

He snorts again. “You have less than half the training. You’ve never touched a weapon. Have zero
fighting skills. Can’t pack a ruck. No, Carter. You wear the uniform because Uncle Sam is
desperate, but you are not a soldier.”

A young man knocks on the door before poking his head through the door. “Major Shaw, there’s
someone here for you, sir.”

Peggy stands up as Shaw turns toward the door. He snaps back around. “Sit down. I’m not finished
with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Peggy eases back into her chair, twisting the ring on her left hand.

As she fiddles with Bucky’s ring, her eyes drift to her nails. She picks at the already chipped polish
with a huff, making a mental note to ask Anne for a touch-up tonight. She never really painted her
nails before, but here having an immaculate manicure was all but official regulation.

After she concludes her inspection, she leans forward in her chair trying to see Shaw through the
window. Whoever he’s talking to must be pretty damn important to earn an interruption. During
her short time with Shaw, she had learned that lecturing her was one of his favorite pastimes. As
the minutes tick by, Peggy finds herself growing more anxious. There is no way this could be good
for her. Shaw wouldn’t postpone an ass-chewing for good news, which means he can only be
getting more angry.

She can’t see Shaw, but the man he is talking to is wearing a suit. This is about her.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, barely audible.

Shaw wasn’t kidding about that discharge. This must be a lawyer. Shaw wants to be sure about a
discharge before looking like an idiot in front of her. Or maybe a Congressman; someone finally
found out about her enlistment forms.

She just had to cause problems. Had to bring attention to herself.

Peggy jumps to her feet when the door opens.

“Please, sit.” It’s not Shaw. The suited man waves Peggy off as he shuts the door.

She sits slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

“Margaret Elizabeth Carter, born April 9, 1921, in Brooklyn, New York.” He raises an eyebrow at
her.

Peggy nods sharply.

“You’ve racked up quite a list of reprimands in the little time you’ve been in the Army.
Insubordination, conduct unbecoming, disrespectful of superiors, blatant disregard for custom. Did
I mention insubordination?”

“I’ll admit, I’ve made a few mistakes.” Her face is set, and her gaze doesn’t waver. “I don’t follow
orders blindly, sir. For that, I will not apologize. I take full responsibility for my actions and am
willing to accept the consequences.”

“You drafted unauthorized orders to send yourself overseas and forged your commander’s
signature. And you almost made it, too.” He chuckles. “Why?”

She rolls her shoulders back. “We send a new detachment of men to the front lines nearly every
week. I don’t see how I deserve special treatment simply because the color of my lips matches my
fingernails.”

He nods, flipping open a folder. “Your file lists your next of kin as your husband, but, as of yet, we
have been unable to locate a marriage certificate.”

Peggy blinks once before responding. “It’s a common law marriage.”

He hums thoughtfully. “I believe New York ceased to recognize common law marriages in 1935.
You would have been…thirteen. Or fourteen, perhaps.”

“My father died when I was eight, and my mother was very sick. A close friend of hers had an
eighteen-year-old son. It was the only way I would be taken care of.”

“You’re quick.” He grins. “However, I think the more likely explanation is that you lied to your
recruiter who didn’t bother to verify it.”

Peggy silently curses the heat in her cheeks.

“Relax, Corporal. Your secret is safe, as is Mr. Barnes.” He glances at her briefly before returning
his eyes to her file. “I assure you, no actions will be taken against either of you for this
discrepancy.”

Peggy sighs in relief, but eyes him suspiciously.

“Dr. Abraham Erskine. I’m running a small project for US Army research. I’m in search of the best
men for my first trial.”

“I don’t think I understand,” she answers slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t mean ‘best men' generally. You would be the only female.” Seeing her still
confused expression, he continues. “I know a great deal about you, Corporal. You’ve been in more
than your fair share of fights, but I’ve been hard pressed to find one you started. Those are the kind
of people I want. If you join the project, this little incident just goes away.”

She studies the doctor, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“Did I mention this will take place in Camp Lehigh. I believe that’s where Mr. Barnes is attending
boot camp, correct?”

A grin spreads across Peggy’s face. She stands, extending her hand. “You have a deal, doctor.”

Erskine takes her hand. “Excellent.”

Peggy walks up to morning formation shoulders squared. This is going to be a long day. Long
week, probably. She had been exchanging letters with Bucky since she accepted Erskine’s offer,
and he warned her. Not that she hadn’t figured it out on her own. These men were hand-selected
from the 107th and had trained together for months. Even the “newbies” have been here for weeks
waiting for training to begin. She just arrived yesterday. She made sure to apply a fresh coat of nail
polish last night and spent an extra hour pinning every hair into place. A perfect soldier.

She falls in silently at the end of the line.

“Well, looky here, boys. Uncle Sam sent us a present.” He brushes his fingers up her cheekbone.
“What’s a pretty dame like you doing out here?”
She grabs his wrist and twists it away from her face, looking at his name tag. “Same as you,
Hodge.”

“Oh, come on, sweet cheeks, who you trying to impress?” He motions around the group. “We’re
the best the Army has to offer.”

“How sad for us, then.”

He takes a step forward. She doesn’t budge, staring into his dark brown eyes.

“Who’d you have to blow to get here?”

Peggy clenches her jaw and balls her fists, perfect red polish digging into her palms.

Hodge takes a step back, grinning to the other men. “Don’t worry, honey, there’ll be plenty of time
for you to prove yourself later.”

Peggy throws her fist into Hodge’s jaw, striking his chin at an angle. As his head whips around, his
shoulders and torso follow, and he drops to the ground.

“Gentlemen.” A young man with broad shoulders approaches the group. “Corporal Carter, I
assume.” He tilts his head to look her over, blond hair not moving an inch.

The men scramble into line and stand at attention.

Peggy stands rigid, hands behind her back. She locks eyes with him. “Yes, Sir.”

“Was there a disagreement?”

“Of sorts.” She tugs her coat down, snapping out the wrinkles. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, Sir.”

He sighs, shoulders heaving. “Moving forward, Corporal, I would prefer to handle these
situations.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Fall in.” He jerks his head toward the men and looks at Hodge. “Both of you.”

As Peggy joins the line of men, a brusque voice erupts. “Alright, ladies, fun’s over. You’ve met
Agent Rogers.” The older man motions to the young blond.

“Agent?” several men sneer, “Couldn’t hack it in the Army? Flat feet at its finest, boys. Must be a
son of a senator.”

“I didn’t ask for opinions.” The older man cuts the chatter with a single glance. “Agent Rogers
works for the Strategic Scientific Reserve; they run the project.” From this distance, his name and
rank are clear. Colonel Philips. “Rogers is in charge of the project, but you are still Army property,
and your asses belong to me.” He takes a breath. “From this point forward, your chain of command
begins with Agent Rogers. You will do what he says when he says until I tell you otherwise. Any
questions?”

After a beat of silence, Philips gives a sharp nod. “Training starts now. Go change.” As the men
scatter, Philips sets his eyes on Peggy.

She jogs to stand directly in front of Philips. Her movements are sharp and calculated. Her
shoulders are square. A perfect soldier. “Sir, I would like to request authorization to wear trousers
during training.”

“Were you issued trousers, Corporal?”

“No, sir. Only women in certain specialties are-”

“Then, I’m sure you’re aware that you are not in a specialty that requires trousers.”

“No, sir. But if I’m to train with the boys, I feel it’s prudent-”

“Would you care to explain why you decked one of my men?” Philips glares down at her.

“We had a disagreement. I handled it, sir.”

“Listen closely, Carter.” He narrows his eyes. “You are not one of the boys. You are a favor to the
doctor. Do not give me a reason to get rid of you.”

Peggy nods as Philips walks away. “Very well, then.” She takes a knee and tightens the laces on
her pumps.

***

“Carter, you are aware this is a timed course, correct?” Philips taunts from the final obstacle.

Peggy looks up with a huff. Everyone else is hurtling over the final log. She’s barely struggled
herself over the first, and it’s the shortest. She studies the obstacle in front of her. One large post
lays horizontally on top of two others. Hip high, six inches taller than the last and nearly a foot
shorter than the final one.

“Come on, Carter, I’d like to be back in time for chow.” Philips raises his voice, ensuring anyone
nearby could hear.

She backs up until she hits the log behind her. Reaching down, to the hemline of her skirt, she tears
the fabric apart, leaving a slit halfway up her thigh. She smirks at Philips and sprints at the hurtle,
launching herself over with relative ease.

She glances up to see Rogers chuckle as he makes a note on his clipboard.

***

Peggy places her foot securely in Jones’s hand and pushes off, reaching for the top of the wall.

“Shit, Carter. Watch those damn heels.” He drops her to the ground.

She yelps, landing on her ass. “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” She runs a hand down her shin. “You put a
run in my hose.” She kicks her shoes off, red polish muted by her flesh tone pantyhose.

He follows her movement as he lifts her onto his shoulders. He groans when her knee drives into
his nose.

She smirks down at him. “I told you not to look up.”

***

“Jesus, Carter. Keep your ass down.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Morita.” Peggy grunts, dragging herself and her thoroughly soaked uniform
through the mud. “Is my skirt distracting you?”

“No, but your blitzies are.”

“Well, enjoy, because that’s as close as you’ll ever get.”

“Alright,” Rogers kicks Morita’s boot, “enough of that.”

***

Peggy wrestles with Hodge in the grass. She struggles to lock her legs around him, even with the
tears in her skirt. She can hear stitches pop at her shoulder as she works her arms around his neck.
He breaks free and pins her to the ground, sitting across her hips.

“Now, this is a view I could get used to.” His biceps bulge as Peggy wrenches her arms under his
hands. “Come on, Carter. Look at your options.” He releases one of her wrists to turn her head
toward the group of men grappling around them.

“One of my options is none of you,” she growls, dragging her nails down his cheek.

“Hey,” Rogers yells from the edge of the clearing, “you’re not playground bullies. Keep it
tactical.”

“Oh, I see.” He snatches her wrist, pinning them both under one hand. “That’s how you’re still
hanging around.”

She digs her heels into the ground, dirt sliding through holes in her pantyhose, and bucks her hips.
He rolls to the side and she jumps on top of him.

“Oh, this is even better.” Hands still wrapped around her wrists, he pulls her down on top of
himself. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like with a real man?”

“Sure.” She pushes herself away. “Let me know when you find one.”

Hodge easily flips her over his head and pulls her into a headlock. She struggles to break free, and
taps his arm twice. He tightens his grip before releasing her when he sees Rogers advancing.

“You owe him a little extra tonight.”

***

Peggy looks up from her lipstick when she hears her name. She glances behind her in the mirror.

“There was just a man at the door. He said to tell you first formation has been moved to 0730 in the
SSR office.”

“Thank you, Sally.” Peggy finishes her makeup in no rush. Suddenly she has an extra half hour to
do whatever she wants. She double checks every hairpin and returns to her bunk. If she’s careful,
she can go back to sleep.

When she arrives at the office, she can hear Rogers arguing with the men from down the hall. She
wrinkles her brow and checks the clock. Just as she thought, ten minutes early. What could he
possibly be yelling about-

“Oh.” Peggy muffles laughter. “My.”

All the men in the platoon are wearing Army regulation skirts, stockings, and pumps. They shift
ceaselessly and avoid eye contact with anyone.

“Carter’s been keeping up with you boys fairly well in her getup.” Rogers motions around the
room. “So, unless you plan to convince me that Carter’s a better soldier than you lot, this will be
the uniform until I say otherwise.”

Peggy’s smile drops and her face pales. Every head turns to her with a glare. Fuck. This. Shit.

Philips walks in and pauses. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s a uniform, sir.” Rogers shrugs. “They should all look the same.”

Philips bursts into laughter. “Alright, Rogers, you made your point. Go change, gentlemen.” He
turns to Rogers. “Take Carter to the Exchange tomorrow after breakfast.”

When Rogers dismisses them, Peggy stays back. “May I use your phone, sir?”

He nods and waves toward his office on the left.

She shuts the door behind her and picks up the phone. “Hello, this is Margaret with the SSR. I need
to speak with a James Barnes immediately.” With any luck they haven’t yet left for the day.

“This is Barnes.”

“Bucky,” she can’t help but smile.

There’s a pause. “Peggy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just- do you think there’s any way you might be able to sneak out and walk me to the
barracks tonight?”

“I can’t. We’re going to be in the field all night”

“Oh, sure.” Her voice drops before she forces it back up an octave. “No, it’s fine.”

“You know I would, kitten. There’s just- I can’t. There’s no possible way.”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

“Peg,” his voice is almost scolding, “what happened?”

“Nothing really.” She sighs, knowing he’s read every word she’s written him since she got here.
“Agent Rogers made the whole platoon wear skirts, and said ‘Carter can do it, so you will too.’”

“Oh, fuck him,” he bites.

“Yeah, I might as well now,” she chuckles sadly. “After that, everyone thinks I am anyway.”

Peggy scans the desk while Bucky continues. Her fingers trail along the mahogany before she
climbs up to sit on the edge.

“I mean, you’re interested in him. Steve, right? That’s clear from your letters. You’ve probably
been dreaming about him.”

“Buck, that’s enough,” she laughs, biting her lip as she looks at Steve’s chair. “Although, I am
sitting on his desk right now.”

“Peg, I hate you being over there by yourself. Maybe...you should.”

“I am not going to sleep my way through this project.” She jumps off the desk, turning her attention
back to scanning the top.

“Fine, then quit. But if you stay.” He takes a breath. “Peg, he can watch out for you. Protect you.”

She closes her hand around a pocket multi-tool. “Buck, I’ll be fine.” She smiles. There must be
some kind of blade in there. She tucks it into her waistband. “I promise. I’ve got to go.”

“Please be careful, kitten.”

“Always, Buck. Goodbye.”

After she hangs up, she walks to the door, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. She can hear
Philips talking.

“I’ve overlooked your little crush, Rogers, because I haven’t seen it affect your judgment. But if
this gets out, it’s going to ruffle feathers, and the men upstairs might not be so forgiving.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Colonel.”

“Don’t go raising questions you can’t answer.”

Peggy smirks. Rogers has a crush.

The day passes without incident. Though the innuendos and insults are endless. When Rogers
dismisses the group for the day, the men disperse and Peggy sits outside Steve’s office. Maybe if
she made them wait long enough, they’d give up.

“Carter?” Steve opens his door, surprised. “Did you need me?”

He walks out in khaki slacks and a blue dress shirt. He must have been changing in his office. She
shifts her weight with a deep breath. “No, I was just-” He turns to pull his door shut, stretching his
shirt tight across his shoulders.

“Wanting to use the phone again?” He furrows his brow, desperate to discern her intent.

“No,” her breath catches when he drops the keys and bends over to pick them up, “I just-”

He drapes his coat over his arm and leans against the wall. His biceps press against his sleeves.
“Carter. What is it?”

“Nothing.” She stands, straightening out her skirt.

“You’re breathing funny.” He steps forward and presses a hand against her forehead. “Do you feel
alright?”

His hand is warm and surprisingly soft. His lips are so close; her eyes dart between them and his
eyes. “Oh, fuck it.”

She buries her hands in his hair and closes the distance between their lips. His shoulders go rigid
before he slowly relaxes against her. He pulls her toward his office, fumbling with the doorknob
until he falls backward onto the floor, pulling her with him.
“Well, that’s embarrassing,” she teases, kicking the door shut and leaving them in the dark.

He nips along her collarbone and pulls her down, kissing her hard before breaking away. “Wait,
Carter.”

“You know my name is Peggy, right?” She leans in to kiss him again, eyes adjusting to the
darkness.

He turns his head. “Carter. You understand this will have no bearing on my handling of Project
Rebirth?”

She leans back, sitting up straight. “Excuse me?”

“It’s obvious I’m attracted to you. There’s no hiding that now.” He props up on his elbows. “But I
won’t let that affect my professional judgment.”

“This was a mistake,” she gasps, climbing to her feet. As she opens the door, she turns back. “I
don’t need your help, Rogers. I was only waiting around because you fucked me over today.”

She squares her shoulders and wipes her fingers along her lips as she storms down the hall.
Hopefully she’s improving, not worsening her certainly smudged lipstick. As she approaches the
back door of the SSR building, she fastens an extra button on her shirt, closing the collar. She opens
the door, and four men are waiting. “Fucking shit.”

“Well, that didn’t take long, sweetheart. Sure you don’t have business to finish?” Hodge pushes
forward.

Peggy lifts her chin and continues between the men. “I suppose there’s no point in telling you
you’re wrong.”

“Don’t be shy, honey.” White, Hodge’s right-hand man, grabs her arm and cradles her face with his
other hand. “You look like you did a good job.”

“Fuck off.” She pulls away, smacking into Davis.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t want to hurt you.” He takes her wrist, and his eyes scan her face and drop
to her chest. Pink splotches peek out from under her shirt. “We just want to share.” He grins,
pulling her collar to the side, exposing more marks. “Rogers can’t have you all to himself.”

“Rogers doesn’t have me at all,” she growls, backing away slowly.

His grip tightens as Hodge closes in on her right. “You must be real good. Rogers can leave post
any time he wants, pick up any girl he sees. But he picks you.”

It takes all of her strength to tear her arm away from Davis. The force sends her reeling back. She
pulls the multi-tool from her waistband, driving the butt into White’s cheekbone. Flipping the tool
open, she jams the tip of pliers into Davis’s leg. As she picks through the tools, Hodge grabs her
elbow. She gouges a bottle opener down the side of his neck. She doesn’t know who the fourth
man is. He sneaks up from behind, tossing the multi-tool aside. He twists both arms behind her
back, and shoves her into the alley beside the building.

The front door of the building creaks open. Peggy opens her mouth, and a large hand immediately
clamps over her it, silencing the scream in throat. She knows it has to be Rogers. He’s so close she
can hear the gravel crunch under his shoes. So close it hurts. Tears well up as his steps fade.
“Oh, Carter, you didn’t think he actually cared about you?” She can’t think straight enough to
recognize the voice whispering into her ear. “You’re not his girl . You’re his whore.”

The fourth man kicks the back of Peggy’s knee and pushes down on her shoulder, forcing her to
the ground. White, blood trickling down his cheek, wraps a hand around her neck, shoving her onto
her stomach.

“What did it take to talk him into the skirt thing, huh?”

Davis hobbles over, pinning her wrist under his foot. “Yeah, Carter, I’d like some of that .”

Peggy turns her face away, only to see Hodge kneel beside her. “Don’t worry, boys. There’s plenty
of time. As long as Rogers is around, Carter’s not going anywhere.”

Her throat closes as more hands grab her, wrapping around her arms, legs, neck, and anywhere else
they can reach. Some hands hold her down while others brush up her thighs and untuck her shirt.
The more she squirms, the harder they grip until she wants to scream. She couldn’t; at some point
her face had been shoved into the dirt. At least it would save her the trouble of closing her eyes.

Visions flash across the darkness. Eighteen years old, the only other time she’d felt more than one
set of hands on her body. They had a gun. And Bucky. Still young enough to believe that begging
might slow them down. Naïve enough to think following orders would make it easier. Nothing
made it easier, and getting caught was the only thing that ever stopped any of them. Her gut
clenches.

He had been so close.

She releases the tension in her muscles. She won’t fight. She won’t scream. She won’t obey. If
nothing matters now, then that’s what she’ll do. Nothing.

Oh, fuck it. She’s done everything else wrong today. She lets a shudder rock her shoulders as a
deep sob escapes. And another. Every memory she’d pushed away bubbles to the surface. Every
moment she had forced herself to go numb. Every feeling she refused to let take root. She can’t
hear anything over the blood in her ears. Her entire body shakes.

The pressure around her arms eases suddenly, and she’s being hauled to her feet. “Come on,
Carter.”

She smirks, “Welcome to the party, Dugan.”

He ignores her, waving to someone. “Jim.”

A hand grabs her other arm, supporting her weight. She wants to argue, but she probably can’t hold
herself up right now anyway. She’d only make a fool of herself when she wobbles like a newborn
foal and falls on her face. They lead her out of the alley and down the sidewalk.

Peggy looks at Dugan and over her other shoulder. Morita. “What are you doing?” Feeling steadier
than before, she tugs her arms away.

They let her go without resistance. Dugan shrugs. “Walking you to your barracks.”

She stops walking and turns to face them. “I don’t- ”

“Really?” Dugan chuckles. “It kind of looked like you did. But if that’s the kind of thing you’re
into, Carter, we’ll be happy to-”
“Why?” she snaps.

The men look at each other. “Why what?”

“Why help me?” She rolls her eyes. “Knights in shining armor, hm? Hoping I’ll be so grateful
I’ll-”

“Shut up before you make me regret it.” Dugan shoves her shoulder lightly. “I got a sister. Jim’s
got two.”

Peggy nods slowly, pinching her eyebrows together.

Morita takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if there’s a God, but if there is, maybe He sees us
helping you and looks out for them while we’re gone.”

Peggy nods again, calm washing over her for the first time all day. Her stomach churns, and she
barely makes it to the edge of the sidewalk before doubling over. She can feel Dugan and Morita
shift their weight uneasily. As she heaves again, she waves them off.

When the convulsions stop, she eases herself to the ground. “Sorry. It’s fine. I should be fine
now.”

She studies their concerned expressions and lets out a dark laugh. “You’ve never pulled your
sisters from an alley, have you?” No response. She grimaces, “Don’t worry. I’m a pro.”

“Carter,” Dugan takes a step forward.

“Don’t.” She stands. “Don’t give me that look. I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

Dugan nods and continues down the sidewalk. Peggy and Morita follow. They stop across the
street from the barracks. Morita passes Peggy the multi-tool and tells her to keep it within reach.
She nods to both of them before crossing the street and entering the barracks.

Peggy buttons a third pair of pants and steps outside the dressing room. She does a turn in front of
the mirror and nods. “These will do. I need short sleeve shirts to go with it.”

“Carter, we’ve been gone for two hours. This isn’t a shopping spree.” Rogers crosses his arms,
watching her turn.

She glares at him. “Yes, because this is so much fun. There are rules I have to follow.” She pushes
past him. “I’ll find them on my own.”

She returns with several pairs of pants and an armful of different size shirts. She drops the trousers
in Rogers’s lap and carries the shirts into the dressing room. She drapes a pair of pants over the
door. “These are the right size, would you please add them to that stack?”

She can hear Steve rustling the clothes as she pulls a short sleeve shirt on. The pants slide off the
door as she finishes buttoning the shirt. She frowns at the yellow-green marks covering her arms.
She brushes her fingers over the blotches on her ivory skin, wincing when she skims a purple one.
She doesn’t even remember how she got the bruise on her chest.

“Carter, what’s taking so long? It’s just a shirt.”

“You were right. I don’t need these.” She hurriedly unbuttons the shirt.
“No, Carter. Follow regulation. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“No, no.” She slides the shirt down her arms. “The dress shirts I have already will suffice.” Her
watch gets caught in the fabric, and she shimmies trying to get her arms out.

“Carter, what are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She grunts. “I just don’t see the point in buying some- oh, fuck!” She rips her arm free,
jabbing her sore elbow into the wall.

“What’s going on in there?” She can see his shoes under the curtain. “I’m coming in.”

“I’m changing.” She reaches out, holding both sides of the curtain against the doorway.

He leans in, whispering, “Goddamn it, Carter, I’m tired of your shit. I’m coming in one way or
another. If you let go, I’ll give you ten seconds to get decent.”

She doesn’t move. He groans and throws an elbow into her arm. She whimpers and grabs the
multi-tool, turning away.

“Alright, what are you hidin- Jesus, Carter. What happened to you?”

Great. Her back must be beat up too. “I broke a heel and fell.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“No, you didn’t.” His voice softens. “Is this from training?”

“Yes.” She nods over her shoulder.

“So, no.” He sits on the small bench in the corner. “Carter, I can help you.”

“You didn’t,” she snaps without thinking. She immediately regrets it.

“What are you-” He furrows his brow. “Is this why you were waiting for me?”

“Please, Rogers, I wasn’t there for you.” She tightens her grip around the multi-tool, the knife
blade already set.

“Carter, I can help you, if you let me. Who was it?”

“I told you. I broke a heel and-”

He grabs her shoulder and turns her around. “Don’t make me order you to-” Before he can blink,
she has the blade at his throat.

“Why do men always want what they think someone else has?”

He takes a breath, surveying the damage to her arms. Understanding seems to cross his face. He
gently pushes the blade away. “I handled this poorly. I apologize.” He holds out a shirt for her and
motions to the blade in her hand. “That’s mine, isn’t it? It’s been missing since you made your
phone call yesterday.”

She contemplates his offer and drops her shoulders. She passes him the multi-tool and takes the
shirt.

“Peggy, what happened?”

She looks at him, her lips spread in a thin line.

“If you give me names, I can help.”

“You are the last person I want help from.” She turns her back to him as she buttons her shirt.
“Please, stop trying.”

“I am an idiot.” She can hear the disappointment in his voice. “I didn’t mean to make things worse
for you.”

“I know. You just don’t have a clue what life is like for a woman.”

He shakes his head as she turns back around. “You were scared yesterday. I should have seen
that.”

“It’s fine. I can handle myself.”

“Get dressed, Carter.” He walks out of the room.

“It’s not a shopping trip. Yeah, I know.”

“You’re not going back to training today. I’ll call Philips and let him know we couldn’t find your
size. We’ll have to drive to New York and check there. Probably won’t be back before dinner.” He
grins when she walks out. “I’m not throwing you back to the wolves until tomorrow. It’s the best I
can do.”
 Chapter 5
Chapter Summary

Kind of Bucky's perspective.

Chapter Notes

This is actually one of the first chapters I wrote with the intent to edit it before posting.
And then I promised to update the story more often, and I didn't. So, here's what I
have :)

The bay bustles with activity as men shower, shave, and shine their boots in preparation for
tomorrow’s training. Bucky sits on his bunk reading over Peggy’s latest letter. The last three weeks
have flown by. The knots in his stomach began loosening after Rogers let her wear trousers. Now
that Rogers began dismissing her early, the gut wrenching is almost completely gone. Apparently,
she made friends, or allies, more like. No one really seems to care for her, just acting like decent
human beings.

Banter about feats of strength, sexual prowess, and dumb decisions swirl around him as he reads
about her week of training. The laughter cuts short when the platoon sergeant enters the room.

“Barnes,” he barks.

Bucky jumps to his feet, dropping the letter on his bed, and snaps his arms behind his back.

“Get dressed, your wife’s in the hospital.”

Everyone stares at Bucky, his expression blank. “What?” There’s no marriage certificate in his
records. There’s no reason for anyone to believe-

“Let’s go, princess. Jesus Christ! I thought you’d move a little faster to see your girl.”

He races to get dressed and runs out the door muttering to himself, “Leave her alone for two
minutes…get herself killed…wife my ass…”

“I want to see my wife” bellows in from the hallway seconds before Bucky bursts into the room.

“Peg,” he whispers moving to the bed. He glances around the room, eyes landing on the man
sitting in the corner. “You are?”

“Agent Rogers.” He stands, extending his hand. “Her supervising officer. They called me after the
fight.”

“Is she alright?” Bucky returns his attention to Peggy’s relaxed expression.
Rogers nods. “There are post-op complications to worry about, but she should recover fine. Just
sleeping off the anesthesia.”

Bucky takes a seat on the bed, combing his fingers through her hair. “Hey, Kitten.”

She groans and her eyes flutter open. “Don’t call me that.”

“I knew you were awake,” he smiles.

“Barely.”

“What happened?”

Steve steps forward. “There was a bar fight.”

“I turn my back for two seconds,” Bucky’s eyes never leave Peggy’s “and you start a bar fight?”

“I’m not that stupid.” She shakes her head.

“I wasn’t there,” Steve breaks in again, “But from what I understand, she finished it.”

“My boys were down. He pulled a knife. What was I supposed to do?” she mumbles groggily.

“Peg,” Bucky shakes his head, “go to sleep.”

“Fine,” she yawns, “but not because you told me to. I’m just really fucking tired.”

Rogers gives her a pointed glare but lets her use of vulgarity go.

Bucky chuckles, “I think you’re making Agent Rogers uncomfortable.”

“I wish that was the worst thing she’s said in her drugged state.” Rogers makes his way to the door.

Peggy smirks, “Come back later and we can get uncomfortable together.”

Rogers looks at Bucky, red creeping up his neck. “I wish that was the worst thing she’s said.” He
pauses at the door and turns back. “They’ll likely let you stay tomorrow, but since she’s stable,
you’ll have to return to training. They should let you visit after duty hours until she’s discharged.”
He takes a breath and hesitates. “I suggest you enjoy the time together. She’ll likely be dismissed
from the Army after this.”

“What?” Bucky’s eyes widen. “Why?”

“She snuck off post to go to a bar where she got into a fight in which she stole a knife and injured
two men.” He shakes his head. “I have to write up a report and formal reprimands when I get back
to the office.”

“She said she didn’t start the fight. What about the others?”

“They will be written up as well,” Steve sighs. “These kinds of misadventures technically violate
policy, but they’re not exactly discouraged because of the morale building. Philips has had it out for
her since she got here, and the Auxiliary Corps has much stricter codes.”

“So,” Bucky begins slowly, “she was on an unofficially sanctioned outing when she got dragged
into a fight she didn’t even start, and she’s the only one who-”
“I didn’t say it was fair.” Steve looks away. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

Bucky returns to training the next day. As Steve predicted, he’s allowed to spend the night at the
hospital as long as he’s ready to go every morning when his platoon sergeant picks him up. He’s
almost asleep when he hears the rustling of sheets.

“What’s wrong?” he asks through the fog in his brain.

“Everything itches.”

He can just barely make out her shadow from the hall light. She pulls at the IV-line near her
collarbone and scratches at the bandages on her arms.

“Stop.” He shifts in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Peggy, leave it alone.”

She drops the IV and fiddles with the tube protruding from her left side.

“Hey,” he raises his voice and stands, “I said cut it out.”

He pins her arms to her sides. She wriggles and squirms. Unable to break his grip, she goes still.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “If I let you go, are you going to be good?

“Not likely,” Peggy whimpers.

“Why do you have to be so damn difficult?” he groans. “Alright, then. Scoot over.” Stretching out
beside her, he closes his eye. “This bed is so much softer than my bunk.”

She reaches up to her collarbone slowly, careful not to make noise.

“Quit it.” Without opening his eyes, Bucky grabs her hand. “It’s midnight. Just go to sleep.”

Peggy sighs, “I can’t. I slept all day.”

“Well, I haven’t,” he snaps. “And I have to be up for training tomorrow.”

“Right,” her voice is full of guilt.

“Besides, you were stabbed in the stomach. You need more sleep.”

“Pancreas.”

“What?”

“I was stabbed in the pancreas, not the stomach.”

He rolls onto his side to look at her. “Really?”

“It’s better than the stomach,” she shrugs.

“It’s really not.” His eyes lock on hers. “Complications aren’t just possible, they’re probable.”

“You never even finished pre-med.” Peggy whines. “I’m fine. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t now.”

She laughs, “It was barely a graze. Really, I’m fine.”

“Do you even remember anything after surgery?”

“Very little.” She chews on her lip. “Someone filled me in. Steve, I think.”

“Oh, it’s Steve now?” he teases. “You know it’s a good thing you’re married because you’re a
terrible flirt.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “You and I both know it’s the only way they would let you out of training.”

“You know they’ll find out eventually,” his voice drops.

“I know,” she whispers. “You’ll be in lots of trouble. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha-”

“Don’t you dare ever get yourself sent to the hospital and not tell me.” Anyone else would’ve
thought he was joking. “I don’t care what it costs me.”

She slides closer to Bucky, curling into his side. “This is the first time we’ve been apart since
Kindergarten.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “when your mom got sick, you stayed upstate with your uncle for like a
month.”

“Oh yeah,” she’s quiet. “I didn’t like the way he looked at me.”

“I know,” Bucky sighs. “That’s why I couldn’t let you go live with him after your mom died.”

“I’m actually kind of happy here, in this Project.” She lets out a quiet chuckle. “But I’ve missed
you, this.”

Bucky combs his fingers through her hair, replaying his last conversation with Steve.

“Peg,” he takes a deep breath, “would you please marry me?”

“What?” No, Buck.” She smacks his chest. “That’s not what I meant. Look at us. We have food
and electricity and beds. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

He opens his mouth and closes it back. Maybe Steve’s wrong. “Just promise you’ll think about it.”

Bucky walks into Peggy’s room shortly before lunch to find her in her dress uniform, buckling her
belt.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He looks around, alarmed.

Her coat lays on the bed, her shoes and stockings in the chair.

She turns to face, removing bobby pins from her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Night training today. I only have through lunch.” He crosses his arms. “Your turn.”

She looks away, sliding a pin into her hair. “Nothing?”

“Peggy, you had surgery earlier this week. You should be in bed. Did you take out your own drain
tube?”

She holds several pins between her teeth, still fixing her hair in the mirror.
“Are you even listen- you’re not. Margaret Elizabeth.” He steps between Peggy and the mirror.

“What?” She pushes him to the side.

“What’s so important that you have to risk ruining your recovery?” He raises eyebrows, genuinely
curious about what’s going on in her mind.

She sighs, walking to the small bedside table. She picks up a packet of papers, wincing as she leans
over, and hands it to Bucky before returning to her hair.

“Conduct unbecoming,” he reads off the top sheet, scanning the rest silently. “Oh, that’s cute. He
called you a lady.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Agent Rogers brought that this morning. My only hope of staying in the
program is to go talk to Philips in person.”

“It’s back to Agent Rogers, now? Too bad. I kind of liked him.” When he doesn’t get a reaction, he
turns serious. “Peggy-”

“I’m actually glad you’re here.” She takes her pantyhose from the chair. “I don’t think I can bend
far enough to put my stockings on.”

He doesn’t move. “You’ll find a way to do it without me, won’t you?”

“Obviously,” she smiles.

He groans, grabbing the stockings from her hand. “Sit down, then.”

She takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to help dress you.”

“That was different. I was a kid.” She twists around, looking for her coat.

“You were hurt- Hey, easy!” He grabs her by the elbow. “You’re going to pop a stitch.”

She shakes her head, reaching further. As she opens her mouth to tell him not to worry, a series of
small pops erupts from her side and a searing pain runs up her ribs. Instead of words, a whimper
slips out, and she falls back onto the bed.

“You popped a stitch, didn’t you?” he asks with a straight face. “More than one judging by your
reaction. Let me see.” He stands up and unbuttons her shirt, leaning over her to pull it open.

The door swings open. They freeze, Peggy laying half naked, skirt hiked up to her hips. Bucky
closes his eyes and sighs. This does not look good.

Peggy turns her head to see Philips standing in the door. “You could knock.”

Philips closes the door without a word.

Bucky pulls Peggy up and walks toward the door.

“Don’t you dare tell him the truth, “she whispers angrily, clutching her side.

He spins around, wide-eyed. “Are you insane?”

“How am I supposed to convince him to let me keep training if I can’t even put on my own shoes?”
She shimmies out of her white shirt before blood can stain it.

“The shit I do for you,” he bites before leaving the room.

Philips grabs him by the arm, jerking him sideways. “You care to explain what you were doing
with my soldier?” Philips looks him over. “Barnes, is it?”

Bucky rolls his shoulders, pulling his arm from Philips’s grip. “Well, what do you do with your
wife, Sir?”

Philips furrows his brow before scoffing, “You mean to tell me-”

“Excuse me.” Bucky trails after a passing nurse. “My wife broke her stitches.”

She turns and follows Bucky back to Peggy’s room.

“Her IV really itches. Is that normal?”

She nods and slides through the door, shutting it behind her.

Bucky looks back to Philips, who’s still gathering himself. “If you’re here to see Peggy, it’ll
probably be a minute. I’m sure they want to sew her back up.”

“Rogers!” Philips explodes into Steve’s office. “Where are my men?”

Steve shrugs. “If I had to guess, Sir, I’d say the hospital.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What the hell are they doing there?”

“Word got out about your decision to give Carter the boot.” Steve hides his smirk in a sip of
coffee. “It seems they’ve decided to go on strike.”

“I hate it when that damn doctor is right,” Philips grumbles.

When Bucky returned from his forty-eight-hour training mission, he showered and requested to
visit Peggy. As he nears her room, voices and laughter waft down the hall. Relieved she didn’t
spend the last two days alone, Bucky walks through her open door.

Peggy smiles warmly, “These are the dumbasses that got me stabbed.”

Bucky chuckles nodding to the room. “Dumbasses.” He takes a seat on the bed and wraps an arm
around Peggy’s shoulders. “Maybe now someone can tell me what the hell happened.”

Everyone immediately breaks into their own version of the story, voices battling for dominance.
“There was this guy…we walked up…this asshole…Peggy wanted…”

Peggy leans forward, raising her voice above the others. “Peggy wanted to break a few rules and
get a few drinks, not start an all-out brawl.”
Bucky shakes his head, trying to piece together the whole story.

Dugan, Morita, Peggy, Hodge, and White decided they wanted to have a beer at the end of a long
day, so they snuck out and met outside the gate. They headed to the second bar they could find
because the closest one would be full of soldiers. Two drinks in, Morita started making eyes at
some gal, a real looker. A couple more drinks, and he’s making passes at her. Her fella wasn’t
wild about that and took a swing at Morita.

“She ain’t interested in some scrawny fella like you.”

Hodge and White jumped in to back Morita up, which only drew the attention of the large man’s
pals. With their military training, it was clear the boys had an advantage over the larger men.
Peggy and Dugan, intent on finishing their beers, left the group to duke it out.

“What do you say we teach them a real lesson?” After a few blows, the largest man pulled a knife
from his pocket. “She’s your gal, Bill, what do you think?”

Apparently, Bill agreed and took out his own knife. “Alright, Donnie. The little one’s mine.”

Peggy was on her feet in a blink. “Hey, now, boys, let’s all just back up a minute.” She shoved the
two groups apart, holding her arms out on either side.

“Watch out, little lady.” The third goon said. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Now, hold on, Jack,” Donnie grimaced. “If she’s hanging around this lot, she must like getting a
little rough.”

Peggy tucked her right hand into her pocket, keeping her left pointed toward Donnie. “Look,
gentlemen, we don’t have weapons. Why don’t we call it a night, hm?”

Jack took a step forward, eyeing Peggy.

“Look, Jim over there, he’s an idiot.” Peggy nodded in Morita’s direction. “He didn’t know she
was your girl. We’ll go. Just calm down.”

Bill stalked up to Peggy, looming over her small frame. “You should back up, sweetheart.” He
glanced at the Army uniforms. “This ain’t the London office. You’re in New Jersey, now.”

She held her ground, blocking a slash at her face. She tore the blade from Bill’s hand, jerked
Steve’s multi-tool from her pocket and jammed the butt under Bill’s jaw, sending him careening to
the floor.

“Well, I’m from Brooklyn, bitch.”

Peggy buries her face in her hands while the room reels with laughter.

Bucky shakes his head. “Sounds about right.”

“I’d had a few drinks.”

Chaos erupted on both sides. White went down quick, after a jab to the chin and hook to the gut.
Peggy held her own with the multi-tool, but when it was knocked from her hands, she was at a
disadvantage. All the men in the fight were much larger than her. If Dugan hadn’t jumped on
Donnie’s back, she would’ve been lying next to White.

Hodge and Morita stood back to back, watching Bill and Jack circle. Peggy glanced at Dugan
wrestling with Donnie and lunged for the knife in Donnie’s outstretched hand. As they struggled,
the two groups closed in on each other, until it was one big fray.

The three Jersey men scattered when Peggy took a knife to the side. Everything happened so fast,
the bartender didn’t get a chance to break it up.

“If you five don’t get your asses out of here now, I’m calling the cops.” He shook a baseball bat at
them. “Nobody’s dying on my property. Got enough legal troubles as is.”

They high-tailed it out of the bar and across the street. Dugan helped Peggy ease her way over
while the other three rushed to the pay phone.

“James Buchanan,” Peggy gasped, “Barnes.”

“What?” Dugan glanced at her, pulling her arm across his back.

“Barnes,” she panted, leaning heavily into Dugan. “Third Training Battalion. Charlie Company.”

“Carter, who the hell is that?”

“James,” she stumbled over the curb at the gas station, “Barnes.”

Dugan sat her in the grass near the others. Her face was pale and ashen, her eyes fluttering
wildly. Sweat beaded at her temples, and her breath came in erratic bursts.

“Buchan-” her chin dropped to her chest, “Barnes.”

Morita helped Dugan lay her back. White emerged from the gas station with a cold rag. Draping it
over her forehead, Dugan pulled at the chain around her neck. They should probably know her
blood type. Instead of dog tags, a ring hung at the bottom of the chain.

“James,” Peggy’s eyes remain closed.

“Yeah, yeah, Carter.” Dugan wrapped his hand around the ring and yanked, snapping the chain.
“Barnes. I got it.” He slid her ring into his pocket. The medical staff back at Camp can’t be
trusted.

“So, anyway,” Dugan takes a breath, “soon as we got to the hospital, we started calling around for
you.”

“Well, thank you. She has a tendency to get herself into trouble and not tell me about it.” He
glances sideways at Peggy.

She scoffs, “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need your lectures.”

“Then be glad you were in surgery when Rogers finally lost it.” Morita smirks from the corner.

Dugan snorts, and White continues, “Something about ‘the best of the best turned street rats.’ And
the only reason we weren’t discharged on the spot is because you weren’t dead yet.”

“I think I would’ve preferred being stabbed,” Hodge, who had been silent up to this point,
mumbles.

Morita snickers, “He was pissed for sure.”

“Next time you get a call at ten o’clock at night informing you that several of your soldiers started
a bar fight, getting your only female soldier stabbed, and ‘she’s not doing great,’” Steve saunters
into the room, “you let me know how calm and collected you are.”

Everyone’s quiet as Philips walks in behind Rogers.

“Oh, look boys,” Peggy chirps, maintaining eye contact with Philips, “the Colonel came to tell me
goodbye.”

Philips takes a deep breath before looking around the room. “Alright, gentlemen, visiting hours are
over.” His voice booms with authority. “Time to return to training.”

No one moves.

“That is a direct order, soldiers.”

The room is completely silent until Dugan looks up and says, “Agent Rogers, do you know to spell
insubordination?”

Steve smirks behind Philips.

The Colonel’s face slowly reddens, the veins in the side of his neck bulging out. “You boys don’t
even like her.”

Hodge lets out a derisive snort but doesn’t make a move.

Philips looks around the room, mulling over his options. “Rogers, I want every man in here written
up for failure to follow a direct order.” He sighs, “Carter, it appears I misjudged your loyalty and
integrity. Your actions inspired this little mutiny. I’m offering you a spot back in the program.”

“Well, Colonel, I-”

“This is not the time for smart-assery,” Bucky whispers, jabbbing an elbow into her ribs, “A full-
blown Colonel just trampled all over his own ego. Take the goddamn win.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Peggy smiles, “I would be delighted.”

Philips storms out of the room and Steve follows, after a sharp nod to the group.

As men filter out of the room, Hodge walks over to Peggy. “Just to be clear.” His face is stony, his
body rigid. “We are not allies. I don’t like owing people.”

“Understood.” Peggy locks eyes with him. “We’re square.”

Hodge stalks out, White slinks out behind him, leaving only Morita and Dugan left.

“Hey Dugan,” Peggy tilts her head at them, “this has your name written all over it.”

He smirks, “You’re alright, Carter. Glad you’re coming back.”

When they’re alone, Bucky closes the door and takes the chair beside Peggy’s bed. “I finished
training today.”

Peggy leans back, sinking into her pillow. “So, you’re leaving?”

“Got a few days of cleaning and packing, but-” he takes a shaky breath, “yeah.”
“You get your orders?” She opens her eyes, leaning forward.

He pulls folded up papers from his coat pocket and passes them to her. “107 th in England.”

She nods, eyebrows drawing together as she reads the orders. She bites at her thumb nail. The
polish is nearly gone anyway, she hasn’t been able to touch them up in weeks.

“Peg,” he sighs, “there’s a good chance I don’t-”

“No,” she inhales sharply. “Don’t say it.”

“If Erskine doesn’t pick you himself, they’ll send you home. The Women’s Corps won’t keep you
after this.”

Working her jaw, her voice is empty. “I’ll be fine.”

He takes her by the chin and turns her face toward him. “Stop being stubborn and just marry me.
Please.”

“Okay,” she whispers. She doesn’t trust her own voice.

“Look, if I don’t come- Okay?”

She nods. “I’ll marry you.”

He lets out a breath. “I really thought that was going to be harder.”

“When you come home.”

“What?” He squares his shoulders. “No, Peggy, that’s not the point.”

“Yes, it is.” Her voice is firm again. “You want to make sure I’m alright? Then come home.”

His shoulders slump. “That’s not fair.”

“Come home, and I’ll marry you. At the airport, if you’d like,” she giggles. “That’s the deal. Take
it or leave it.”

“Fine.” He stands, taking his mother’s ring from the nightstand. Dropping to one knee, he takes her
left hand. “Margaret-”

“Oh my God,” she squeals past laughter. “Get up before someone sees you. We’re supposed to be
married already.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and they’ll kick me out of the Army.” He shrugs before clearing his throat.
“Margaret Elizabeth Car-” He bursts into laughter, standing up. “You win. I can’t do it.”

She slides over, giving him room to stretch out next to her.

“Buck,” she begins softly, “did you stay with me all this time because your parents told you to?”

“Come on, Kitten. You know better than that.” He shakes his head. “You’re my best friend, and I
couldn’t live if anything ever happened to you.”

She nods, twisting the ring around her finger. It still feels strange. They don’t belong together, not
like this.
“Peg,” Bucky squeezes her hand, “look, we may not be in love, but I do love you. That’s not so
bad, right? We’ll be happy. And you can have an affair whenever you want. I won’t mind.”

She laughs, nudging him with her shoulder. “Well, when you put it like that.”

Bucky lies on the ground in front of the barracks, leaning against his duffle bag. When the men
around him begin hollering, he squeezes his eyes shut. “Would you shut up? It’s too damn early
for this shit.”

As more men join in, the disturbance grows, and Bucky can distinguish words. Cat calls. He
swears he heard a woman call his name. He shifts restlessly, ignoring the commotion. He hears it
again, for sure this time.

“Peg?” He jumps to his feet, scanning the field.

Just as he spots her rushing toward him, he hears buses approaching.

“Hey, Kitten.” He wraps his arms around her waist. “What are you doing here?”

She tightens her arms around his back. “I couldn’t just let you leave.”

“How’d you manage this?” His smile fades when she doesn’t meet his gaze. “They don’t know.”

“It’s not a big post. I walked here in less than fifteen minutes.” She grins. “No one will ever know I
was gone.”

“You walked?” He prods at her stitches. “Peg, that’s way too much exertion.”

She swats his hand away. “Stop it. I’m fine.” She looks up at him. “I had to say goodbye.”

“Alright, men, load them up,” the platoon sergeant calls from the door of the first bus.

Tears well up in Peggy’s eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”

“No, no, no. Kitten, don’t start that.” He clears his throat. “No way in hell I’m getting on that bus
crying.”

“Bucky?” Her voice is barely audible.

“Let’s go, Barnes. Uncle Sam’s waiting on you,” his sergeant yells.

“Give me a minute,” Bucky growls, looking back at Peggy. “What is it, Peg?”

She smiles up at his red, puffy eyes. “Just come home.”

Several men lean out their windows and yell at them. “Are you going to kiss her or not? Give her
something to remember! What are you waiting on? You need someone to show you how it’s
done?”

They both chuckle.

Bucky shakes his head, “What do you think? Want to put on a show?”

“It’s the last kiss you’ll get for a while.”

He wipes a tear from her cheek. “There are girls in England, Peg.”
“You’re engaged now, Sergeant,” she teases.

“I’m married remember?”

She lets out a wet laugh. “Then you’d better make it convincing.”

He wraps his arm around her waist. “Just like last time.”

With his other arm behind her shoulders, he bends her backward until her feet are barely touching
the ground. She grabs his neck as she falls back, leaning in slightly to meet his lips.

The bus erupts in cheers, whistles, and vulgar comments. Boldened by the audience, Bucky slides
his hand down her waist, egging them on.

When he sets her back on her feet, she raises an eyebrow. “You’re pushing it, Barnes.”

He flushes, laughing, “I may have gotten caught up.”

His sergeant yells angrily, “Fun’s over. Let’s go.”

“I got to go, Kitten,” Bucky sighs, looking back at Peggy. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m
gone.”

As he lifts his bag to his shoulder, she says quietly, “Worry about yourself. Just-”

“Come home.” He smiles over his shoulder. “Yeah, I got it.”

She watches him climb the steps onto the bus and waits for them to disappear in the distance. With
a deep breath, she starts her walk back to the hospital, hoping she’ll get back before the nurses’
next rounds.
 The Experiment
Chapter Notes

I'm trying not to focus too much on what happened in the movie, but what's different in
this version. Hopefully, you like it!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Why me?” Peggy takes a long breath, staring at her hands.

The silence of the SSR office offers a much needed moment of respite. Colonel Phillips left early
for a briefing with headquarters, and Erskine commandeered the room.

Erskine chuckles to himself as he uncaps the bottle in his hands. “Because you don’t understand
why.”

Peggy lets out a snicker, pinching her eyebrows together and shaking her head. “I certainly don’t
have the highest marks on – well anything.”

“Without a doubt, you are the slowest, smallest, and weakest soldier here,” he chuckles. “But that
is the point.”

She smirks to herself. “You have a unique way of seeing things.”

“I can make you fast and strong.” Erskine pours two glasses of schnapps. “These men came
seeking glory and honors. You came for a chance to help.”

“I suppose I’m just a patriot.”

He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “You’re more than that.”

He continues on with a story about his first attempt at creating the serum, painting an alarming
picture. The serum was highly volatile and the test subject no better. He earned the privilege of
testing the serum by working his way through the ranks of the German Army. He excelled at every
physical and cognitive assessment he was given. He was the obvious choice.

“Every one of those men makes a fine soldier.” He pauses, taking a sip of his drink. “But you
make a better person.”

Peggy mulls the thought over as she reaches for the second glass of schnapps. Erskine begins
explaining the process of the infusion. She tightens her jaw as he describes the effects of the serum
during the original experiment. He assures her they’ve worked out all the kinks – theoretically.

“What am I doing,” he scoffs loudly, pulling Peggy’s glass away. “You have procedure
tomorrow.”

Peggy drags her cheek between her teeth. “Honestly, Doctor, what are the chances I survive this
procedure?”

“Better than half.” He gives her a good-natured grin. “Maybe even seventy-five percent.”
Peggy smirks back at him. “And you think that drink will make the difference?”

Erskine only shrugs, downing his glass.

“Then,” she snatches the glass back, “I’d rather die with booze in my blood.”

Erskine pours himself another drink and raises his glass. “To a better tomorrow.”

A soft grin jumps onto her face as she raises her glass in response. “I look forward to it.”

Reveille rings out far too early. Her eyes squint open, slowly adjusting to the dim glow of early
morning. The bay buzzes slowly to life as ladies slide out of their bunks. The second and third
drinks were probably a mistake. She’d say the same of the rest of the night if she could remember
it.

Her dress uniform hangs on the end of her bunk freshly pressed. Peggy lifts the hem of her shirt,
polishing a pin on the collar as she heads to the shower. The bright lights send needles through her
brain, and the clanging pipes echo in her skull. The cold shower clears her bloodshot eyes and pulls
her from the groggy stupor.

Blood pounds through her head as she towels off and slides her slip over her head. The thin silk
dress falls delicately over her curves as she sweeps her hair back into a neat roll. Red color glides
smoothly onto her lips, and she pinches her cheeks before turning back to the door. The large room
bustles with the activity of three dozen women shuffling in and out of the bathroom. Peggy flinches
at the flickering lights that had been switched on while she was gone.

Just as she slips into her low pumps, a trio of loud knocks signals the arrival of a male officer, or in
this case, agent. Peggy’s name echoes down the line of women as she smooths out her skirt. She
folds her coat over her arm and grabs her cover as she passes the foot of her bed. Rogers glares at
the door, toes tapping, when she emerges.

“Are you kidding me?” His eyes narrow as he leans in. “You’re hungover.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Have I offended your delicate sensibilities, Agent?”

Steve let’s out an exasperated sigh. “Do you have any idea who’s been invited to observe this little
test?”

“Judging by your tone,” she smirks, “someone very high up.”

“No one’s happy about you.” Steve pinches between his eyebrows as they walk. “Couldn’t you
pull it together for one night?”

Peggy shrugs and slides into the back seat of the car Steve indicates.

“At least we’ve got a good drive to sober you up.”

“I am sober.”

“Just get some rest.” He lifts an eyebrow before leaning forward to speak with the driver.

Peggy runs her tongue over her teeth and turns to the window defiantly. The changing scenery
captures her attention for a while. But, to her dismay, the previous night’s drinking weighs her
eyelids down. She struggles to stay awake, but the heat in the car slowly drags her under. Blaring
horns rouse her from her dreams. A small sign welcomes them to town, and Peggy perks up,
rubbing her bleary eyes.

“Steve, where are we?”

“Brooklyn.” He turns to her with a stern expression. “Corporal.”

Her gut clenches. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

They drive by her old diner, and her stomach lurches again. She rolls the window down and takes a
deep breath before clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Jesus,” Steve bites. “Pull over.”

Peggy darts onto the sidewalk before the car rolls to a stop and yanks the lid off a nearby trashcan.

Rogers approaches growling between his teeth. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

She takes a heavy breath, wiping her lips. “Doing what exactly?”

“Heaving into a stranger’s trashcan at eight in the morning.” His arms fold over his chest. “In
uniform.”

She glares at him, raising her hand in his direction, but another heave cuts her gesture short.

“Honestly,” he tosses his hands out to the side, “what were you thinking? You know how
important today is.”

“This has nothing to do with my hangover.” She winces as the lid clangs back into place.

“Then what – wait.” His jaw drops. “Are you pregnant?”

“You’ve no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” Her gaze turns to ice, her eyes unwavering.
“The boys are allowed to get sloshed any night of the week and it gets laughed off during PT in the
morning.”

“You are, aren’t you?” He lets out a dry chuckle, following her back to the car. “I stuck my neck
out for you. Promised to keep you in line after that fight. And you –”

“Just stop it.” She slides into her seat, slamming the door behind her. “I am not pregnant. Not that
it would be any of your concern.”

“It would.” The low hum of the engine fills the momentary silence. “My job is making sure this
project goes smoothly. A pregnant test subject is not smooth. So, until one of us is released from
Rebirth, everything that goes on in there is my business.”

“And what do you think goes on in there?” Her eyes glitter softly, losing her anger to amusement.

“I don’t –” He rubs the back of his neck, face flushing, before he clears his throat. “That’s not –”

She works her jaw slowly, considering his assumption, and her smile falls. “What do you think of
me?”

His brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“Your first presumption is that I must be pregnant.” Peggy bites her cheek. “What do you really
think of me?”

Creases form over Steve’s forehead. “I think,” he lets out a deep breath, “you’re a brilliant gal who
recently got an unexpected opportunity to spend an extended amount of time with a husband she
may never see again.”

“Don’t.” She turns her attention away. “Don’t say that.”

Peggy looks out the window as they pass the bus stop two blocks from the diner she used to work
in. Her lips purse tightly to each side, and her teeth toy with the inside of her cheek while her nails
dance nervously on the door. She never intended to come back here.

“How much did you drink last night?”

Peggy’s roving eyes land on Steve, and she lays her palms flat on her thighs. “I’m fine.”

“You look like shit.” He shakes his head. “And I’d like to keep my job. So, start talking.”

Peggy blinks, clearing the memories. “How do you mean?”

“Either you have a history here.” Steve leans back and turns toward Peggy. “Or you ate some real
bad seafood for breakfast.”

“I grew up here.” With a heavy sigh, she gives a sad smirk. “This is home.”

“Couldn’t wait to get away?”

“Something like that.” She stares into the distance. “We lived about a mile from here.”

“You and Barnes?” His smile falls, and he forces his features into a neutral expression. “The two
of you seem happy.”

Peggy nods slowly, twisting the ring on her left hand. Her lips purse loosely as she contemplates
telling him the truth. Her mouth forms the words, but her mind flashes to Bucky. Erskine may be
able to protect her, but his reach wouldn’t cover Bucky. He had lied too. For her. He’d be subject to
severe repercussions if anyone found out.

“Yes,” she finally grins. “We are.”

Steve’s jaw locks, his teeth grinding. “Then, why did you –” He opens his mouth to continue, but
glances toward the driver and silences himself.

Her heart drops. “We married for decidedly nonromantic reasons.” She takes a few steadying
breaths, glancing at her hands. “Our parents died young. I worked double shifts at a diner. He was
in school. Life was easier together.”

He nods, rubbing his jaw. “No feelings between you?”

Peggy shakes her head. “None of the kind you’re thinking.”

A relieved smile flickers over his face before he remembers himself. “Here we are. After the VIPs
arrive, try to –” As the car slows, Steve reaches for the handle. “Just keep your opinions to
yourself.”

Peggy cuts a sideways glare at Steve before pushing her door open. “I make no promises.”
Steve leads the way into the small bookstore, muttering to himself. After an odd exchange, which
could only be a passcode of some kind, with the old woman behind the counter, they proceed
through a hidden door in the wall. The air chills as Steve escorts her into the lab, and Erskine
meets them in the middle of the floor. Though the doctor takes over, taking various vital signs,
Steve’s eyes never leave Peggy.

Her eyes catch his once, bringing a flush to his cheeks. Strangely, heat races up her neck when her
gaze darts back to Erskine. The doctor smirks at her embarrassment and turns to Steve with a raised
eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Agent.” Erskine motions to the observation deck above. “But you have visitors to
attend, correct?”

Steve huffs and gives Peggy a pointed glare. “Mouth shut.”

She sticks her tongue out at Steve’s back and returns her attention to the bustling scientists. Stark’s
explanations of the procedure fall on deaf ears. Peggy’s eyes roam over the busy room before
landing on Steve in the window.

“Carter.” Stark clears his throat and waves to Erskine. “Doc, you probably ought to take it from
here.”

“Everything is ready, Corporal.” Erskine steps forward, tapping a clipboard lightly. “All that’s left
is for you to dress down.”

Peggy’s breath catches. Her already hammering heart picks up the pace. Her tongue darts over her
lips as she gives a shaky nod. She casts a pleading gaze to the observation deck, but Steve busies
himself laughing with senators. She’d be on her own for this one. Rolling her shoulders and setting
her jaw, she sets about the task. Her coat is the first piece to come off. Next are the shoes. She lays
them neatly on the table next to her coat and works her stockings off before glancing at Erskine.

“Blouse too.”

Her gut twists as she throws another glance to the window above. She’s drawn more attention now.
Hungry expressions follow her every movement, making her skin crawl. Steve’s discussion with
Philips monopolizes his attention. Peggy closes her eyes softly, pushing the image from her mind.
With a steadying breath, she unbuttons her blouse and slides it from her shoulders. Her skirt
follows, leaving her with only a slip to cover her undergarments. Chills race over her freshly
exposed shoulders, and the silk tickles the backs of her knees as she follows Stark’s instructions.

She climbs inside the small chamber with a sigh of relief. The doors close, wrapping her in a
cocoon of security. The leers couldn’t touch her inside the pod. Stark slaps the shell, sending a
metallic echo around her head, and Erskine asks for an update. When her senses adjust, she gives
an affirmation to start the procedure. Moments later needles prick every large muscle group in her
body, and the cool serum sends chills through her body.

She squints into the sudden, blinding light, and groans at the fire under her skin. Heat races down
her legs through her toes, up her chest into her cheeks. Her thoughts scramble, needles jabbing
through her temples. The comfort of the pod closes in on her, crushing her ribs and collapsing her
lungs. The pressure of the growing pain bursts as a scream, tearing its way through her throat. She
clenches her fists, the rest of her muscles following.

“Shut it down.”
Even muffled by the layers of metal, Steve’s shout pierces the stale air. Peggy squeezes her eyes
shut, bracing herself.

Gritting her teeth, she lets out a growl. “No. I can do it.”

The next minutes feel like hours, stretching her agony into eternity. Finally, the spasms ease, and
her muscles relax. The light fades, and the doors hiss open. She stumbles forward, gasping at the
cool rush of air over her damp skin. Her muscles tremble before she collapses into Steve’s chest.

“Well,” he grunts, steadying himself, “you’re heavier.” He wraps his arms around her back, pulling
her in securely. “How do you feel?”

She swallows hard, taking another deep breath to ground her reeling thoughts. “The same.”

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head, pushing off his shoulders. “I’m fine now.”

“Good.” His mouth goes dry as he looks her over. “You look good – fine – I mean, you seem
okay.” He clears his throat and takes a step back, dropping his hands from her waist.

Her cheeks flush at the smirk dancing on her lips. A firm hand closes around her arm. She jerks
away with a gasp, throwing a punch as she spins. Her hands fly to her mouth, as Howard crashes
into his lab station.

The room stands silent, eyes wide. Peggy’s chest heaves, and her hands shake. Howard groans,
bringing a hand slowly to his head and cursing under his breath.

“I think it worked,” Philips chuckles.

The rest of the observers follow the Colonel excitedly onto the lab floor and mill about. Some
examine Peggy, keeping a respectful distance. Others chat with Erskine and Stark, discussing the
particulars. Still others skirt the edge of the room, taking it all in.

The sheer number of men surrounding her makes the back of her neck prickle, but she forces
herself to remain still – and silent. She refuses to let them intimidate her. The newfound strength
will take some getting used to, and even still she may never feel at ease with strange men. Steve’s
presence helps, but Bucky’s would be better.

A pang in her chest closes her throat. She hadn’t had much time to miss him in the last few weeks.
He should have arrived in London by now, probably shipped out to his camp too. He’ll be in his
new home any day now, unpacking and settling in. With any luck, she’ll be doing the same soon.

A deafening crack rips her out of her thoughts. Steve’s body curls around her as they drop to the
floor, and the room breaks into chaos. Bright red speckles on her slip makes her heart race. Blood.
From who? She pops up easily, despite Steve’s grip, and looks over the room.

Erskine.

Her chest clenches as she scrambles to his side. The dark puddle grows under him, spreading
quickly across the concrete. He struggles in vain to speak before going still. Swallowing the lump
in her throat, Peggy pushes to her feet. Steve is nowhere in sight.

The coolness of the concrete soothes the jolt through her body as she takes the stairs two at a time.
Chaos in the street tells her she’s headed the right way. Her eyes land on Steve, standing in the
middle of the street like an idiot, in perfect shooting stance. His pistol aims straight up the street at
a car racing toward him. Peggy’s breath catches in her throat, and she lunges forward with inhuman
speed. She barrels into Steve, knocking the wind from both of them as they hit the ground.

“I had him,” Steve barks.

Peggy rolls her eyes, already back on her feet, and spins around to finish the chase. The tiny stones
in the asphalt tear into the soles of Peggy’s feet until she’s certain the flesh is gone entirely. Her
lungs expand easily, propelling her legs to stretch further. She could catch up, except the new
weight knocks her off balance, and she tumbles onto the sidewalk. The small vehicle speeds
around the corner and disappears. Peggy grinds her teeth and takes off again.

As she rounds the corner, a bullet flies over her shoulder. She yelps, diving aside. In a lucky turn of
events, the car sits in the street with two wheels over the curb and smoke rolling from under the
hood. Peggy yanks the door handle, gasping when the door falls right off its hinges. She ducks
behind the door instinctively when she sees the muzzle raised in her direction. The bullet pierces
through the metal and clips Peggy’s side as it whizzes through the air. She winces, swiping her
fingers over the wound, and hisses when they come up bloody. Blood pounds through her ears as
she takes off after the assailant. Wind stings her cheeks and whips around her bare arms as she
races past the docks.

He veers toward the water, slowing his pace. Peggy pumps all her energy into her legs, pushing off
the concrete with every step. She closes in, barely huffing, and notices some kind of U-boat
bubbling up from under the surface of the water. She scans her path and sprints toward a tin
garbage can at the entrance of an alley. As he clambers to reach the first rung of a ladder over the
edge of the dock, Peggy yanks the lid off and whirls around, flinging it at the man’s back. The thin,
metal disc cuts through the air and drills into his back with a resounding crack, sending him
careening into the bay.

Peggy rushes to the water’s edge and dives in, yanking the man back by his collar. He wriggles in
her grasp trying to break free and drags them both underwater. Peggy bats away his flailing limbs,
focusing on getting her head above water. A red cloud pours into the murky water when his elbow
smashes into her nose, most likely unintentionally. The last breath in her lungs escapes in a groan,
and her chest burns. She pushes against the weight of the water, making little headway. Every beat
of her legs propels them slowly toward the surface – painfully slowly. Her muscles should ache,
and her brain should be foggy from oxygen deprivation if nothing else. But her senses focus
sharply on breaching the surface, her legs only kicking harder.

Their struggle breaks the calm of the surface as they emerge. Peggy pulls in a heavy gasp,
splattering out mouthfuls of water. With one arm looped around his chest, she paddles slowly back
toward the ladder. He thrashes wildly, pounding against Peggy’s arms, slowing her ascent. The
ladder creaks when she throws him onto the concrete. She climbs up after him, hair dripping down
her back. He squirms away, fingers scraping at the ground. By the time Peggy interrupts his vain
attempt at escape, it’s too late. She nudges his shoulder with her foot, turning him onto his back.

“Hail Hydra.” Foam drips from the corners of his mouth before he falls back limply.

Peggy stands staring absently at his lifeless form, hardly noticing the chill from the bay breeze.
Steam roils off her heated skin, disappearing into the morning mist. She startles at Steve’s
approach, noticing the crowd for the first time. As the adrenaline fades, murmurs fill her ears. She
casts her gaze to her toes to avoid making eye contact.

Steve’s coat wraps tightly around her shoulders as his arms pull her into his side. “Let’s get you out
of the street and into some fresh clothes.”
Heat races up Peggy’s neck, covering her face and chest. Chills raise up her bare legs as she tugs
her thin slip down. She swallows the tears welling up and the lump blocking her throat. That’s the
last thing anyone needs to see right now. She needs to be a soldier, not a woman.

The moment Peggy steps back into the lab, politicians swarm her demanding answers. Some
question her abilities while others criticize her behavior. Before she can respond, Steve steps
between her and the closing crowd. He nudges Peggy toward the table with her uniform and lays
into the Congressmen. Peggy dresses and reports back to the lab for a thorough physical
examination. To her dismay, Stark must conduct the exam. With Erskine gone, no one truly knew
the serum. Stark is the most likely to figure it out. He takes one vial after another of her blood
before dismissing her.

Soon, Peggy finds herself seated across from Steve in the diner where she used to work in.
Numbness sets in, dampening the sickening familiarity of it all. Her mind races through a million
thoughts while remaining painfully empty.

When Peggy’s eyes clear, they land on Steve. “I’m fine.” She lifts the menu in front of her. “I
hardly knew him.”

“Sure.” He shakes his head, waving a waitress over. “Coffee, please. Two.”

The air between them lightens with the dull chaos of the diner, and the nagging feeling in Peggy’s
gut grows. She keeps her head down, twisting her fingers together under the table. Her former
landlord studies the paper at the bar, and Bucky’s longest romantic interest sits three tables down.
Steve scans through the menu, oblivious to Peggy’s discomfort.

Her heart stops at the sound of her name ringing in a familiar trill. “Angie,” she grins.

“It is so good to see you.” Angie glances over her shoulder. “John has been unbearable since you
left.”

Peggy’s stomach flips at the mention of his name. “I see.”

“Between you and me, things aren’t going so good at home. I think his wife found out he was
running around with one of the girls.” Angie tosses her curls, jabbering on. “It’s a shame really. He
was a nice guy.”

Peggy swallows the bile in the back of her throat, letting out a nervous hum. Steve’s expression
tightens before he clears his throat. Picking up on the hint, Angie hurries off to wait on her own
tables. She winks at Peggy with a thumbs up from behind Steve’s shoulder before flouncing away.

“What’s that about?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

Peggy blinks, clearing the disgust from her mind. “How do you mean?”

Steve leans back, giving their waitress room to set two mugs on the table. Peggy orders a slice of
pie while Steve shakes his head. After copying down Steve’s order, the waitress heads back to the
kitchen.

“You have a history with that other waitress?” Steve leans his forearms on the edge of the table.

Peggy raises her eyebrows and takes a long drink of the scorching coffee. Steve waits patiently,
smirking at her discomfort. When she finishes, he raises his eyebrows again.

“Yes, I lived here.” She stirs a spoonful of sugar into her mug. “I thought I said that once.”
He heaves a sigh, reaching for his own mug. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“I’m going to get my pie.” She gives him a coy smile as she stands.

Angie intercepts Peggy before she can reach the desserts and drags her to sit at an empty table.
“Alright, spill.”

Peggy laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are a married woman.” Angie grins, glancing at Peggy’s left hand. “And to a different
casanova than the one you just walked in with.”

Peggy’s face flushes. “Angie, stop it. He’ll hear you.”

“He doesn’t know?” Angie gasps. “I wish I had your guile. I’d have me a dozen –”

“That’s not what I meant.” Peggy sighs, slouching into the seat. “It’s complicated. James shipped
out to England, and I haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

“Say no more. He can’t expect you to wait forever.”

“It’s not that either,” Peggy huffs. “Look, it’s just – it was never that way between us. James and I,
we –”

“Well,” Angie stands, waving at a customer, “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

Peggy retrieves her warm apple pie and returns to Steve’s table. Bucky’s ex-girlfriend stalks off as
Peggy approaches, leaving Steve with a stern expression. Peggy plops into her seat and offers
Steve a bite, shrugging when he declines. She hums at the cinnamon sweetness on her tongue and
scrapes the fork between her teeth before she dives in for a second bite.

“Something the matter?”

Steve’s glare cuts through her cheery demeanor. “Senator Brandt is going to make you an offer.
You should take it.”

Her mouth falls open before she can take another taste. “What?”

“Your services are no longer required in this project.”

Her chest heaves. “I don’t understand.”

“Philips doesn’t want you around.” He stares at her flatly as she lowers her fork. “Stark can use
your blood to make more soldiers. If we need more, we’ll find you.”

“Steve, you don’t –”

“There’s no place for you with us anymore, Corporal.”

Her nostrils flare, her throat closing. “What did she say to you?”

“I think you know that already.” He sets his jaw and swallows hard. “Obviously, the choice is
yours to make.”

“No, it isn’t.” She grits her teeth. “I have no say in this matter or any other. No one cares what I
have to say, and why should they? I’m only a simple woman, after all. Serves me right for thinking
 you could possibly be different from the rest.”

"You can return to the Auxiliary Corps." His expression softens minutely as he reaches halfway
across the table. "Maybe hitch your way to England."

She sneers, running her tongue over her lips. "An excellent alternative."

He opens his mouth to offer a retort, but only closes it back. “The car leaves for Camp Lehigh in
two hours. I expect Brandt to speak with you before then. You’ll have time to ask Stark any
questions you may have as well.”

Peggy glares, silent and unmoving.

He yanks at the bottom of his coat to straighten out the wrinkles as he stands. “I’ll see you back at
the bookstore, then.”

“Rot in hell.”

He gives an imperceptible nod more to himself than Peggy and stalks out the door. With him gone,
Peggy chomps down on two more bites before losing her appetite altogether. She counts the cash
Steve left on the table, ensuring it’s enough, and slinks onto the street. She makes a left and
wanders toward her old apartment with a disgustingly familiar knot in her stomach.

Chapter End Notes

I told you I didn't abandon this!

Opinions, comments, requests for future scenes?
 The Star-Spangled Woman
Chapter Notes

Working my way through this little by little.

More comments get faster updates *wink wink*

Peggy smiles widely, arching her back against the pristinely painted bomber plane. Her cropped
top pinches her waist, and the tight shorts chafe her in all the wrong places. The camera flashes,
and her smile drops. A small assistant rushes forward to dab the thin sheen of sweat at her temples
and pin the fly away hairs back in place.

“We’re almost done with the Army uniform.” Senator Brandt calls from the side. “I want some
bikini shots next. Carter, climb on top of the wing. That’ll sell like hot cakes.”

Peggy’s glare cuts to the senator as she maneuvers herself onto the wing of the plane. “You know,
I have an actual uniform.”

Her skin sizzles against the metal, heated by the afternoon sun, as she lays back. She kicks her feet
into the air and dangles her captain’s hat from her fingertips playfully. As the flashes go off, she
changes her poses little by little, giggling at jokes no one told.

“Look at the camera, damn it.” Brandt shouts, jumping to his feet. “And show off those legs we
paid so much for. If I have to tell you again, I swear, Carter –”

“What?” She leans over, showing off the low cut neckline of her top. “You’ll take me off the cover
of your little war bonds promotions?”

As the photographer changes the film, Peggy slides back to the ground. She smirks victoriously at
Brandt as she steps behind a changing curtain. She peels off the skimpy excuse for a costume and
slips into the star spangled bikini Brandt’s costumer designed. She can’t help but roll her eyes at
the placement of the stars.

“I can live without having my breasts printed on every wall calendar in the country.”

“No,” he answers from his chair, “I’ll cancel your next tour.”

“I swear, Brandt,” she says coldly stepping out from behind the curtain, “if you put me on stage
with those chorus girls again, I will slug more than just your phony stagehand.”

“That was brilliant.” He beams, looking over her. “Everyone loved watching Hitler get his ass
handed to him by a girl.”

“I don’t do shows,” she growls, as she tosses her hair and looks over her shoulder at the camera.

“You do what I say.” Brandt pulls her shoulders back, arching her spine. “Legs, Carter. Stretch
them out. Show them off.”

She locks her knees out, sneering at Brandt before throwing a bright smile over her shoulder. “So,
what brilliant idea do you have now?”

The thought of his previous fundraising events sends a shiver down her spine. Each of them
demeaning her to the equivalent of a circus sideshow – the bearded lady or, more appropriately, the
strong man act. She’d been stationed at the recruitment booth during the world fair wearing nearly
the same “uniform” she had just taken off. According to Brandt it had been the most successful
recruiting push since Pearl Harbor. The push-up competition brought in a record breaking wave of
war bond sales – buy a bond, get the chance to beat Captain America. She’d been handicapped by
literally tying one arm behind her back, and she still beat most of them.

“I’ve set up a USO morale tour for you.”

Peggy freezes, hands halfway to brush through her hair. “You mean, in theater?”

“That would be where the GIs are, Carter.” Brandt said flatly. “I’d change that attitude if I were
you. And show off your goddamn legs.”

Peggy hinges at the waist, straightening her legs and beaming. “I get to go overseas.”

“Sell enough calendars,” Brandt smirks, “and maybe I can swing you a stop with your husband.”

A soft smile settles on Peggy’s lips at the thought of hearing Bucky’s voice again.

“When is it scheduled?”

Brandt grunts as he looks up from the photographer’s clipboard. “Thirty days.”

Peggy’s heart leaps and flutters in place. The rest of her day speeds by with the knowledge she’ll
be seeing Bucky in only a month. When she returns to her hotel room, she reads through Bucky’s
brief letter once more and picks up her pen. Her own letter remains short with little news to relay to
him. Her shaky handwriting describes the photoshoot and her latest tensions with Brandt. After
careful deliberation, she chooses not to tell him about her upcoming tour. It would be better as a
pleasant surprise.

Over the following weeks, she returns to her apartment in Virginia to make preparations for her
trip. Without the lengthy forwarding process, Bucky’s letters come in more regularly. She reads the
fatigue in his words, each one shorter than the last as his unit pushes deeper into German occupied
territory. His days grow longer and his nights colder.

However, as her departure draws nearer, northern Italy proves to be rather unforgiving. Her chest
tightens around each word as she reads through his latest account of imminent winter in the Italian
alps. The nights are cold, and the wind bites to the bone. Rations are going thin, but the talk of
turning back was quashed before it began. He relays details of an upcoming mission, kept
intentionally vague for security purposes. It shouldn’t be difficult, he assures her, they’re sending
half the regiment to overtake a small objective. The top officers made it sound important though.

He won’t be able to write while they’re out, but she’d hear from him again in no time. She smiles
at the paper as the practiced elegance of her handwriting fills the page. She leaves for the first leg
of her tour in the morning, and Bucky could use a morale boost. She adds a final detail about
seeing him soon and folds the pages neatly. He should receive her letter only a few days before her
arrival, but it would brighten his return.

As much as she misses Bucky, she almost dreads the tour. Philips had insisted she dress in
character for the duration of the trip. The impending winter means her outfits have some semblance
of decency. A flared dress replaces the short skirts, though the hemline still leaves a little to be
desired. The pinched waist covers her usually bare stomach, and the plunging neckline shows as
much cleavage as ever. But even with the exposed skin, the winter rain hardly chills her core
temperature.

“What the hell is all this?” Peggy lifts a large star-spangled disc from a stack of equipment.

Brandt heaves a breath. “These are props, Carter.”

“Why?”

“For photos.” He takes the shield back, propping it against the stack. “Your pretty face sells a hell
of a lot of war bonds. We throw you into the field, and it only gets better.”

“You’re going to send me into the field with props?” She knocks on a thin plastic helmet to
emphasize her point.

“Please, Carter,” he scoffs. “These’ll all be staged near our camps. You’re not going to the front.”

“Of course not.” She rolls her eyes before stomping away to let the men load her equipment.

The first leg of her tour passes slowly, and only in part because she misses Bucky. She spends
hours posing in the rubble of previously enemy occupied cities, far from the frontlines as
promised. Following the photoshoots, she mingles with the soldiers, a photographer at her heels.
Luckily her entourage of USO girls greatly enjoy the attention from the battle worn soldiers. Most
of the young women volunteered for the tour, probably hoping to meet a husband.

Their distraction lets Peggy sneak away after her meet and greet. Her pumps sink into the soggy
Italian dirt. Distant laughter bounces off the bombed out storefronts in an eerie echo of the past.
The street where they set up camp could easily have been a bustling square before the war began.
The idea makes her heart ache for a return to normalcy. She’d give anything to have Bucky home
in Brooklyn again.

She ties the belt of her well-fitting trench coat as the wind shifts, bringing a hint of familiar
cologne. Hair blows over her face as she spins to locate the source. She blinks and tosses her head
before tucking her hair back harshly. With a clear line of sight, she can barely make out a broad
shouldered blond under one of the command tents.

“Agent Rogers,” she clears her throat to warn him of her approach.

His spine straightens before he turns to face her, dismissing the secretary for a break. “Enjoying
your stay, Corporal?”

“Captain, now, actually.” She shrugs, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “I wish I could say I was
making more of a difference.”

“The men are glad to have you here.”

“Yes, I’m well aware.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s not quite the kind of tour I had in mind.”

“It helps more than you might think.”

She lifts an eyebrow, lips pursed. “Would you like to trade uniforms?”

“You haven’t changed.” He smirks softly, crossing his arms. “All I meant was these men have
been through hell.”
“I understand that.” She lets out a quiet huff. “I would still trade places with any one of them.”

“I don’t know, Carter.” He leans backward against his unsteady desk, surveying the small crowd
on the other end of camp. “We sent the whole damn regiment in last week. This is all that came
back.”

Peggy nods absently before her heart stops. “What unit?”

“107th.”

“That’s all of them.” She asks hollowly. “You’re certain.”

“We sent some of them back to London for medical care, but,” he shrugs hesitantly, “this is most
of them.”

“Where can I get those names?”

Steve narrows his eyes, thinking for a moment. “The Colonel, I guess.”

Her nostrils flare as she pushes around Steve, leaving him to stumble after her. She pulls her arm
from his grip easily, letting her coat slide off her shoulder at his tug. Her long stride opens the
distance between them as she approaches the Colonel’s desk.

“I need the casualty list for the 107th.”

Phillips glances over the rim of his reading glasses before snatching them off his nose. He leans
around Peggy to give Steve a harsh glare and lets his expression fall slack. “Not going to happen,
sweetheart.”

Peggy opens her mouth to respond, but Phillips cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “Drop it,
princess. That smile only works on senators.”

She grinds her teeth, tipping her chin up and bowing her shoulders. “Sergeant James Barnes –
medic.”

Phillips purses his lips with an imperceptible nod. “Right,” he grumbles. “This isn’t the place.”

“Tell me,” she shouts, slamming her hands on his desk.

Metal groans, bending to the shape of Peggy’s fingers. Her chest heaves, pushing raspy breaths
through her raw throat. The silence makes Peggy’s spine shiver, but she withdraws her hands
slowly, prying her fingers free of the crumpled metal.

Phillips huffs out a sigh and motions to his aide. “We’ll save the postage at least.”

“We covered a lot of ground early on.” Steve lets out a pained sigh. “We expected the Nazis to
push us back as we closed in.”

Peggy’s chest heaves as the Colonel's aide takes an envelope from near the top of a stack. Her lip
trembles, and her hands shake as she takes the letter. The well of tears protect her eyes from the
light from glare of the setting sun against the off white paper.

“We didn’t expect Schmidt to send reinforcements.”

Her eyes scan the neat, typewriter text. The lines slant upward where the aide hadn’t loaded the
paper exactly straight, and any other day that might bother her. A smudge under Bucky’s rank
indicates an erasure, the only mistake on the page.

“If they hadn’t started firing on the Germans, we probably wouldn’t have gotten back the ones we
did.”

Peggy gulps, steadying her voice before she speaks. “The rescue plan?”

“We don’t even know if those men are still alive.” Phillips drags a hand across his brow with a
heavy sigh.

Peggy stands, spine rigid. “Don’t you think we owe it to those men to find out?”

“Do you have any idea how far behind enemy lines that prison camp is?” Phillips barks.

Peggy glances to Steve for backup.

“We’d lose more men than we’d save,” Steve answers, turning his attention to his hands.

“I can win the war or I can bring everyone home, Carter. I cannot do both.” Phillips bows his head,
suddenly reverent as he tucks his hat under his arm. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Peggy stares at the Colonel’s retreating back, her throat closing as he goes. “How many?”

“What?”

She turns resolutely to face Steve. “How many of our men do they have?”

He shrugs, heaving a breath. “Hundred fifty – rough estimate.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“What?”

“I’ll go.” She strides easily around Steve, leaning over a map on a large table. “Where’s this
camp?”

“Forget about it,” Steve scoffs, circling to the other side of the table.

“We both know I’ll find out.” She tilts her head with a cocksure smirk. “You can’t afford to lose
the men. I am not a man. I’ll go.”

“That’s not – You can’t infiltrate a Hydra prison camp alone.”

“Why not. All I’ve got to do is get in.”

“Yes, all. Carter, that camp is miles behind enemy lines.”

“I have to get out as well.” She sighs pointing at their location on the map. “But I won’t be alone.
I’ll have nearly an entire infantry regiment behind me.”

Steve slams his hand on top of the map, fingers splayed to block her view. “You’re not listening to
me.”

“I am.” She runs her tongue over her lips as she looks up. “I’m just used to being dismissed as a
pretty face”

“That’s not what this is.” Steve rubs his brow. “Those men knew what they were getting into.”
“Not all of them had a choice.”

“Carter,” Steve drops his voice to a near whisper, “I don’t to write one of these letters for you.”

His change in tone draws her attention. “Steve, this is my decision to make.” She reaches out to
stroke his arm reassuringly. “If no one else will help these men, then I will.”

Steve’s chest heaves, but his eyes soften. “This is insane.”

“Howard Stark is in this camp, right?” She glances around, trying to identify Stark’s tent from the
others. “I bet I can convince him to fly me.”

“I bet you can,” Steve scoffs. “You need equipment.”

Peggy looks back with a lopsided smirk. “I have an idea.”

She leads Steve across the camp to the cargo container Brandt brought with them. The door
squeals as Peggy swings it open easily. Boxes and costumes line the walls, and Steve lets out a
snicker. Peggy throws him a glare and begins sorting through the boxes. He thumbs through the
clothes rack, rubbing the thin fabric between his fingers.

“They expect you to wear this in this weather?”

She shrugs. “I don’t really get cold anymore.”

“That’s pretty damn useful out here.”

Although she hears the comment perfectly, she wasn’t supposed to, so she ignores him. “What
about this?” She lifts a heavy, metal shield with the stars and stripes painted on the front.

“That’s a prop. They all are.”

“Yes,” she lifts the shield in one hand, “but it's heavy and I can throw it really hard.”

“You can take my helmet, at least.”

Peggy lifts her eyebrows. “You have protective equipment?”

“Funny thing,” Steve lets out a harsh chuckle, “the shells don’t seem to care I'm noncombatant.”

“Right.” She nods, turning her attention away. “That would be greatly appreciated.”

“I wish we had a flak jacket worth a damn. The ones that made it back are useless.”

She shrugs and holds up a tight, long-sleeved shirt. “I’d hate to ruin my silhouette.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but offers a good-natured chuckle. “You’re not actually going to wear any of
these.”

“Perhaps I could borrow your leather jacket as well?” A blush dusts her cheeks as she smiles. “It
would conceal the stars and stripes.”

She opens her trench coat to reveal the fitted blouse. Her cheeks darken to match the brilliant red
stripes, and the deep blue miniskirt swishes at her thighs while she shifts. When she gathers the
courage to look at Steve, she finds him flushed and staring intently at his toes.
“That’s –” Steve clears his throat and looks up, not letting his gaze wander. “All you have are pin-
up costumes?”

“And a nightgown.”

Steve heaves a reluctant sigh. “Those men won’t know what him them.”
 Rescue
Chapter Notes

Well, it's been a minute, hasn't it?

Hope you enjoy!

Peggy’s chest heaves as she watches Dugan work on Bucky who lays limp across her lap. They
had no supplies, forcing them to stay the night in the prison camp. They had barely overrun the
camp when Bucky passed out. Peggy had carried him across her shoulders as she led the search for
the meager barracks they now found themselves in.

Men huddle into bunks, stuffing blankets into the window gaps to block the draft. The ones with
coats venture back into the winter night to find the mess hall. The remaining soldiers tend to their
wounded friends or bandage up their own injuries.

“Hey, Carter,” Dugan calls with a harsh sniff, dragging his hand under his nose, “what exactly was
the escape plan?”

A smirk plays at her lips as she answers. “What do you mean? I thought this was going pretty
well.” She fishes inside Steve’s coat to retrieve a handheld radio with a bullet hole through it. “I’ll
look for a wired radio later.”

Dugan glances up, sitting back on his heels, and blows a warm breath into his rosy hands. “I
splinted his leg and bandaged him up the best I could. But he has a nasty case of pneumonia.
Nothing we can do about that besides warm him up.”

“Yes.” She looks Bucky over, chest clenching at the blue tint to his lips. “Help the others start a
fire. I’ll look after him.”

Dugan nods and makes his way to the furnace in the center of the room. Peggy watches a glow
build inside the rusted body as the ragged band of soldiers split kindling. She rests her head against
the cold rail of the bunk and lets out a sigh. Bucky’s ribs expand with shallow, raspy breaths, and
his eyelids flutter. When his chest stutters, he squirms onto his side and lets out a hoarse cough.
Peggy’s teeth dig into her lip as she watches him, and she takes off Steve’s coat to drape it over his
chest.

“You shouldn’t be out here, kitten.” Bucky gives a weak smile, squinting through tired eyes.
“Might catch pneumonia.”

“Funny.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Bucky smirks with another fit of coughing. “How’s everyone else?”

“Better than you.”

“Hard to be worse.” He takes in a shallow breath, raising a hand to his head before looking over
himself. “Is this your coat?”

“Steve’s.”
“Oh, he’s Steve again?”

“No,” she bites before dropping her shoulders. “I don’t know. He helped plan the rescue.”

“Great job, by the way.” Bucky smiles, choking back a cough. “It’s so good to be home.”

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

“Oh, come on, kitten. I’m just teasing.” He pauses pressing a palm against his forehead. “What the
hell are you wearing?”

She glances down at the low-cut, sleeveless dress and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Bucky shrugs, snuggling into the thick leather. “So, you two’re friendly again?”

She shrugs, leaning her head against the wall. “I don’t know, Buck.”

“You never really told me what happened between you. Just stopped talking about him in your
letters.”

She lets out a melancholy chuckle, eyelashes fluttering. What had happened between them?
Everything seemed perfectly fine. Until it wasn’t.

“He just – told me to leave.”

“He what?” Bucky’s brow drops, his near gasp inducing a fit of coughing. “Well, what did he
say?”

“He told me to go with Brandt.” She rolls her eyes, chest heaving. “I should never have listened to
him.”

“At least Brandt brought you back to me.”

He beams up at her, pushing up onto his elbows, but she nudges him back down. “You know, I
recall telling you to come home.”

“And I think I told you not to do anything stupid. Like storming an enemy encampment alone.”

Peggy shakes her head absently. “I don’t believe those were your exact words.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “From now on, stupid includes running headfirst into mortal danger.”

“Boring.”

Bucky lets out a breathless laugh and tugs at her arm, pulling her to lay down next to him. She
takes the tattered wool blanket from the foot of the bed and gently covers them both, promising to
stay until daybreak. He curls an arm around her waist, pressing her tight against his chest. Her body
heat bleeds through his thin shirt, warming them both. The frigid skin of his bare hand on her hip
sends shivers through her body. She takes it between both her own hands and blows a few warm
breaths, bringing feeling back to his fingertips. A shallow, shuddering breath tickles the back of her
neck before he presses his lips into the crook at her shoulder.

“I fucking missed you.”

Peggy smiles, wrapping her arms around his and pulling herself closer. “I missed you too.”
“I really thought I’d die in there.” He swallows a shudder and nuzzles against her hair. “When guys
got sick, they didn’t come back.”

Peggy’s chest tightens at the memory of Bucky strapped to the gurney in that lab. “Can’t get rid of
me that easy.”

He chuckles behind her. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m really fucking glad you’re stubborn as hell.”

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear.”

“Don’t,” He grins, barking out a cough, “get used to it.”

He gasps for air and struggles to sit up as more coughs build in his chest. Peggy props him up
against the wall, tucking the blanket around his shoulders and rubbing his back gently. Icicles stab
at his lungs with every shallow breath, triggering more coughs and tearing at his raw throat. His
chest aches, and the effort leaves him exhausted, his eyelids drooping heavily.

“I can’t imagine how bad this would hurt if I wasn’t so damn tired.”

Peggy glances around the room at the equipment scattered on the floor. “Get some rest. I’ll get
water.”

He nods reluctantly and rests his head against the cold concrete.

Peggy watches him for another moment before turning away, picking the shield up from the floor.
As unorthodox as it was, it had proven to be of great value during the rescue, and she intended to
keep it handy. She scoops up a chipped canteen as she crosses the room and begins wandering the
halls of the building. She could fill the canteen in the bathroom and bring it back to him with time
to spare before he wakes. Instead, she turns to the exit and ventures into the snowy evening. She
easily identifies the communications building by the antennas and receivers on the roof. The radio
room is just as easy to find.

“It is good to hear from you.” Howard’s chuckle crackles through the aging radio. “You’re lucky
I’m manning the comms tonight.”

“Yes, I’ve missed your particular brand of charm.”

“You haven’t seen my charm yet, sweetheart, but I’m happy to show you when you get back.” He
clears his throat. “No, no. You’re lucky it’s me and not Philips.”

“The Colonel never has been a fan.”

“Especially since Brandt found out about your little adventure. He’s holding the Colonel
responsible.”

Her heart jumps into her throat. “What about Steve?”

“He will be much better when he sees you.”

“Is he in trouble?”

Howard snorts. “You bet your ass he is. Been in time out since you left.”

“Right.” She sighs, swallowing her guilt. “Thank you, Howard.”

After confirming the rendezvous point, she returns to the lab where she found Bucky. The air
 hangs heavy with the smell of death as she moves from room to room. Steve boots, which fit her
surprisingly well, pad her steps, leaving little sound to bounce off the walls as she investigates. As
ridiculous as she’d felt in combat boots and a dress, she’d been grateful for shoes that didn’t fall
off at more than a brisk walk. She isn’t sure if she can get blisters anymore, but she certainly has
no desire to find out. She glances at a large map behind a desk and notes the location of each
pinpoint. Next, she finds a kennel full of dead rats and other large rodents. Each deliberate step
brings her closer to her destination, the room she dreads returning to.

Burnt copper stings her nose as she steps through the doorway, blood stains on the floor making her
hair stand on end. Scorch marks under the legs of the table draw her attention, and the implication
makes her stomach lurch. She touches the burn marks, expecting a fine layer of soot to cover her
fingertips but they come away clean. An acrid scent of charcoal permeates the room, somehow still
moist in her nose. The haunting sense of humanity hanging in the fog sends a shiver up her spine,
and she can only pray she’d gotten to Bucky in time. She hadn’t noticed burns when she found him,
but she hadn’t known to look. He could barely remember his own name when she found him. Or,
rather, his name was the only thing he could remember.

Unable to stomach the thought any longer, she stands to explore the rest of the room. Her fingers
skim over scalpels and syringes that had been left lying out in the hasty retreat. The next room
holds large pieces of scientific equipment. She’s certain Howard could name every machine, but
she could only guess. Liquids of various colors and thickness fill rows of vials on the work table
along the wall. More disturbing is the number of empty vials tinkling across the floor as she kicks
them away. On the other side of the room, another rack of vials sits on another work table.

Her throat closes as she nears the table. Dark, thick blood fills half a dozen vials with only droplets
left in several more. She scans over the German handwriting filling a notebook on the desk.
Though she doesn’t speak German, she recognizes Bucky’s serial number scrawled at the front of
each entry. Heart pounding, she snatches a vial and tucks it into her dress before hurrying out of the
room.

She bumps into Dugan on her way back to the barracks and fills him in on the plan. “We need to
go before the Nazis come looking.”

“I agree.” Dugan grumbles. “But we can at least get some sleep.”

Peggy nods reluctantly. “In shifts. We need to destroy the camp before we leave.”

“Is that really necessary? This place is a shithole anyway.”

“This place is a research camp.” She lifts an eyebrow in challenge. “We can’t let them recover the
information held here.”

Dugan’s mustache wiggles as he considers her statement. “Hey, Frenchie,” he calls as he turns
away. “Start looking for explosives.”

Peggy smirks to herself and hurries back to the barracks. Warmth floods her chest when she finds
Bucky sound asleep, and she slides into the bed next to him. He groans at her weight and lifts his
arm for her to snuggle against him. She still can’t believe she had him back, and she had no
intention of letting him go again anytime soon.

End Notes
 Let me know what you think. This is my first story, so comments are greatly appreciated :)

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