As the poster boy to encourage the American front in the World War II movement, everyone knew about Captain Rogers. News correspondents would trail his every movie in Europe when possible, and the whole world saw the face of the lady he doted on; Peggy Carter. But as for Steve Rogers right-hand man, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, his private life was kept out of the limelight. And while the hopeful romance between Rogers and Carter was sashayed on the world's stage, Barnes only had his girl to himself.

Note: Hello there! I'm not sure about turning this into a longer story arc but this is most likely a two-parter. If I receive good views I'll be encouraged to continue on.
The title of this comes from a song from the 1940's with the same name. I listened to the recording by Billy Ternent & His Orchestra. It's a really sweet and sad song.
My OC is loosely based on the real life Allied spy Nancy Wake. You can check out her Wikipedia page and
marvel on how ridiculously badass she was. Seriously, you won't regret it!
Last, but not least, thank you for reading. Please let me know if you enjoyed or constructively describe if you didn't like it. It means a whole lot!


I am writing this letter to tell you that the Commandoes and I are going on our most serious mission yet. True to the nature of wartime correspondence, and as you well know I cannot disclose the details to you. This may be our most dangerous mission yet, but Steve has championed us through hell and I am sure I will be seeing you in the Spring, and hopefully our strolls will be in gardens and not back alleyways. I miss you like the desert misses the rain. I wish that I could hide inside this letter just to peek at your beautiful face one last time before shipping off again. You are the moon in my night sky, Olivia Rosemary Wake. Please be safe and keep giving the Nazis hell on your side.

Yours and yours only,

Bucky

The letter was crinkled, and the edges were marked in dog-ears and nicks. Creases criss-crossed the page from folding, unfolding, and crumpling. The abuse that this letter had been through was nothing compared to the abuse the addressee had been through. It was her last letter from him.

By the time Olivia had received the letter he was already dead. She didn't know he had died then, and wrote back about all her successes on breaking down Nazi fronts in France and England. She wrote back, but the letter never reached it's correspondent. Her good deeds went unsung.

A few weeks went by and Olivia told herself that they had went this long without talking before. It wasn't until Captain Rogers showed up at her campsite. Battle-wearied and somber. Steve sat her down, poured her a strong drink, put his hand on her shoulder, and recanted the valiant tale of the moments leading up to Bucky's death. This was only some time before Steve himself would meet his demise.

She thanked Rogers for his time and for telling her in person. Olivia knocked back the drink without a wince and asked him to leave. Rogers obliged, and it was the last time she would ever see Bucky's best friend.

Olivia knew death in war was inevitable. For as many lives as she was credited as saving there were thousands more that had perished. She learned early on that tears had no business in mourning the dead. Bucky and her never talked about dying. Their time together was spent living rather than dwelling on the seemingly impossible. They were able to escape the war when they were together, and there was never any man she met that could take her there. Except for Bucky.

Olivia had been working in Amsterdam when she first met Bucky. She was working on transporting Jewish refugees out of Europe. The Gestapo were hot on her trail, with a 5 million franc price on her head. She flirted her way through German checkpoints, became a master of disguise, and maintained a public life. When friends would come through town, such as Peggy Carter, she would take them out on the town. Peggy came around a lot during her time at the Italy front when she needed time to draft plans. One such time she brought along Steve, Bucky, and the newly formed Howling Commandoes.

This was right after Bucky had been rescued. He was weary and lethargic, but he put on a good face. He was still in awe about Steve's super-soldier transformation. Bucky had protected Steve for all of his life and now Steve was doing more than fending off alley-way bullies. Steve was going to chase the course of history, and Bucky knew he had the golden heart to do it.

While Steve was morally grounded and reasonable, Bucky balanced him out in brashness. Bucky was naturally good at fighting, he could pick up anything and master it. He was charismatic. That is, after all, how he became a Sergeant.

Olivia spotted him right when she walked in. She could see the lines underneath his eyes, a telltale sign of the traumatic experience he lived through. But through it he cracked jokes, downed his drinks, and glanced at his friend Steve with the utmost admiration. Following behind the headstrong Peggy, who was dressed outside of her normal army fatigues, Olivia was introduced to the group of men.

When Bucky looked at her that first time, she felt the room melt away. The big band music playing muted. The swaying dancers danced into shadows. Her ankles were the first thing to gain back sensation, and it sent her trembling into his lap.

"Oh my, and I haven't even ordered a drink yet!" She laughed, her arms had swung around his shoulders for steadiness. His hands gently caught held her. Her face must have been flushed with roses when she looked directly at him. He beamed and helped her get back on to her two feet.

"Well, m'am, let me be the first to buy you a drink," Bucky said. His face dipped down to get a good luck from her toes up. He scanned her figure, the high heels, the above the knee black skirt, her tight army blazer emblazoned with multiple medals and ranking denotations. The bright red lipstick perfectly applied to her lips, her fiery red hair and honey colored eyes - he was impressed. She was not the type of woman he had ever sought after. But a longing for her grew immediately.

They spent the whole night sitting at the bar talking. Steve and Peggy left to take a stroll, the other Commandoes picked out girls they liked and danced through the hours.

When the night started to come to a draw, the music slowed. The pair talked about their homes and what they missed. They laughed over the spilling of drinks as their intoxication grew. It wasn't just from the alcohol but from the feeling they gave each other.

And as the night swept away they found themselves the last patrons at the bar. The band was packing up their instruments. Other soldiers paid their tabs and left with their dates. Bucky and Olivia stayed until the barkeeper dimmed stacked the barstools on the counter and asked for them to move off of theirs.

Bucky did like any well-raised gentleman did in that time. He slung his jacket over his shoulder and escorted Olivia outside. There were early signs of Spring, but it was still cold. He insisted he would walk her home and there was no thought to even deny that request.

They walked slow, feet stumbling on the cobblestones and the alcohol coursing in their veins.

When they reached her apartment, they leaned against the stone wall together. The breeze off the canal sent her body back into shivers and he wrapped his coat over her shoulders.

"Olivia," Bucky said quietly, his words barely pierced the tranquility of the night. His hands found one of hers hanging by her side. He held it in his, tracing her fingers, studying her the miniscule details of her palms.

"... I wonder if you'd like to be my girl," he whispered. His eyes still fixated on her hand.

She smiled and proceeded to give him one of the greatest lessons he'd ever learn about her.

"I will not be your girl," Olivia replied. Her voice was soft. Bucky looked her in the eyes, anxious eagerness awaiting her to continue her line of thought. His mind raced wondering at what point of the night had he been unpleasant or undesirable to her.

"I am a woman. And my heart- my heart - that can belong to you. And you'll keep that safe I hope," she explained.

Bucky lifted her hand to his lips and slowly kissed the back of it. He moved from the back of her hand to place a kiss on her cheek before starting turning down the sidewalk to leave.

"Mr. Barnes," she breezily called after him. Her words blowing to him in the wind. He stopped, kicked his foot in front of him and turned on the other one's heel to face her. She stood there, hand on her hip, a silhouette of an hourglass on the stone wall behind her. His feet took several steps back to her and they were once again face-to-face.

She brought her lips to his, letting him invite them there. They kissed in the passing breeze, the quiet babble of the canal, the hum of the electric streetlight nearby. For a good time it was all forgotten about. When it was time for him to truly part their ways, Olivia hung the coat around his shoulders and dipped his hat across his eyes. Bucky looked up at her, innocently intoxicated but fully enamored with the woman in front of him.

For the few days Steve and the Commandoes were in town, Olivia and Bucky spent every moment of it together. They didn't always speak but sometimes their fingers ran through each other's hair or traced a curve on their body and that language did enough talking for the both of them.

Over the next few months it was mostly written words that carried their relationship. Sometimes they had two or three days together, and even rarer did she manage to get him on a phone line. She didn't always know where he was and he couldn't always know where she was. They had weekend dates in Marseille, London, and of course the Amsterdam that cradled their romance. But it was in Rome, the enchanting eternal city, where she saw Bucky last.