Disclaimer: I do NOT own Captain America or any Marvel characters you might and will see in this story, however I do own MY plot and Arabella. So, if you try and steal my baby I will find you like Liam Neeson and kill you. :D

A/N: I don't have any fucking words to tell you all how fucking sorry I am for not updating this story any sooner. However, this story is MY baby, I am putting all my focus into it now that I am officially out of job and my college classes do not start till May and also because I have re-written this chapter about 4 or 5 times just to make sure it goes on the direction I wanna take it to. So, thank you all for still being subscribed and favourite it and me and well, everything.

I will do my best to update weekly but I shall not promise it since when I do I never comply. So, let's pray that if I don't promise such thing I will actually do.

That said. Enjoy. And leave me some reviews guys. PLEASE.

A few years ago I found myself at Boston Central Station, waiting on the arrival from the Army men who were going to deliver me the American flags, from both Steve and Bucky, and their KIA letters. I remembered how much of a mess I was, how the makeup that took me hours to do was completely destroyed by the time I had made my way to the car, how much I ruined Jarvis suit when I couldn't stop crying and he was there to console me, when I put myself into a horrible depression once the realization I would never see Steve and Bucky again hit me.

Like, really hit me.

So, the fact James Buchanan Barnes was now standing in front of me was too much information I could not process all at once. Bucky had died, he died. I was there when Steve told me about it, when I received the KIA letter, all those nights I spend crying, all those years...

So, this couldn't be him. He wasn't.

But no matter how many times I blinked, he was there. Standing just mere inches away from me, looking at me with his bright blue eyes.

"Bu—Bucky?" are my first words, blurting out of my mouth like word vomit but it seems to cause a reaction on him, his eyes grow a little wider, like if the nickname actually means something to him, like he knows what is it about.

I take a small step forward and he remains in the same position he is, but his eyes scan my every moment like if I was about to pull some sort of move on him. But, I wouldn't. I don't think I could.

"I—I thought you were dead. I—" I wanna cry, tell him I missed him, tell him I love him.

I know somebody is trying to speak through the comm on my ear but I can't hear the signal clear, it comes out broken, making it hard for me to catch any information; but the sounds of a chopper nearby let me know we are about to be interrupted any minute now and he is aware of it too, and whatever he has to do, needs to be done fast before he loses his chance.

And so, he does.

He runs towards me and I jump in the air to try and avoid the impact, but he's faster and quickly grabs my ankle, pulling me to the ground and taking a knife out of his back to try and stab me but I manage, with quite difficult, to push him away from me with both of my feet pushing into his chest to make him stumble back, giving me enough time so I can stand up.

"Stop!" I gasp, the air leaving my lungs getting frozen as soon as it leaves my mouth "why are you doing this!?" I ask him.

"You're my mission," he simply says.

"What—"

He interrupts me when he starts attacking me again with his knife; I manage to avoid getting cut for a while, using some of the moves I learned from my training and at the same, trying to make some sort of damage on him, but it's useless as my hits and blows do nothing to him, and if they do, he sure knows how to keep it together.

He keeps attacking me and soon his speed makes it hard for me to follow, and so he achieves to cut straight into my arm, ripping part of the suit while at it. Blood drips into the ground and mixes with the white of the snow.

"STOP!" I yell as, without meaning to, I send him away crashing against a tree with a wave of energy from my hands, the old roble cracking in the middle before falling down from the impact. I look down at my hands covered in energy, energy that manifests into mist, crimson mist.

It doesn't takes long for him to recover and its soon back on his feet, ignoring my pleads for him to stop, but he doesn't. He starts throwing punches that I manage to block, pulling yet another knife and starts aiming at me in places where he sees I have weakness to defend, like my head, hand, tight, forehead and even a tiny gash on my neck.

"Dammit," I hiss in frustration when I know he won't be stopping any time soon unless I do something "I'm so sorry." And so, I gather enough energy in my hands and drive it straight into his metal arm, making it go into shock from an overload. It goes limp next to him and I wanna take the chance to knock him out but before I can do so, a smoke bomb lands in front of us, expelling the gas and I fall to my knees, exhausted.

I catch for only a brief moment how he starts to run away from me before I completely drift off into sleep.

"I see they patched you up good, Bells."

I look up to see Dum Dum entering the conference room as I sit on the chair, my eyes set on the view of the buildings outside the window.

"Yeah," I agree, "I guess you could say that."

"What happened, Bells?" Dum Dum asks "we lost communication with you for a while and then we found you like this."

"The soldier was there."

Bucky…

"He did this!?" he asks in shock and I nod, "Wow, poor guy must be worst." He adds and I smile, slightly.

"Yeah," I cough, "I made sure of that…" I pause, thinking of my next words.

"Dum Dum, does SHIELD keeps a report from all the Commandos missions?"

"Of course," he says, "I mean, that's if you remember to fill them" he chuckles.

"You know I do." I say, rolling my eyes playfully "but—I was wondering about past missions, like—Cap missions and—you know."

Bucky...

He looks at me for a while, giving me an odd look, so I decide to add the first thing that comes to mind.

"Cap could have put something that might be useful," I say, nervously rubbing the back of my head "like a clue in whether or not this could all be linked..."

Way to go, Bells.

"Uhm, yeah, sure." Dum Dum says, still not quite convinced but deciding to drop the subject as he says that those reports were given to Peggy and she has them filed at her office.

"Thanks," I say.

"Sure, Bells. Oh! Before I forget," Dum Dum adds, pushing some files into the table, files that were retrieved at the base; "This is what we gathered from Rebirth and a few bits from the soldier who–"

"Yeah, I'll look into them, Dum Dum. Thanks." I say, interrupting him taking the files and leaving Dum Dum in the room behind me.

I now, find myself locked up in my room, after stealing the files from Peggy's office, a task it was definitely not easy, investigating into every bit of what happened to Bucky before joining the Commandos.

His file preaches his abilities in boot camp, giving him the rank of Sergeant before leaving for Europe—his squad, the 107th—the capture, whatever information was recovered from him and his squad—Zola's experiments—the base—Howling Commando's missions—47 missions completed with Cap's team—and then a file report made by Steve. Reporting the fall from Bucky out off the train.

What happened to you, Bucky?

-KNOCK, KNOCK-

"Bells?" Howard's voice sounds from outside.

Oh, oh...

"I'll be right there," I say pushing files under my bed, under the covers, just hiding them from sight. "Just a sec!"

I look from the door to my bed, making sure nothing can be seen and I open the door revealing not only my brother but also Peggy.

"What can I do for you, people?"

"What did you see on the forest?"

"I already submitted a report, Howard." I say, "you can see it later and not disturb my peace."

"Arabella, are you hiding information of your sightings at the forest?"

"What?" I ask, my voice a little bit higher than what I was aiming for "no, of course no."

"Then could you please explain us how Cap's reports from the Commandos are missing from my files?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Peggs." I say, feigning innocence.

"Arabella, just tell us what you saw and why are you hiding it?" she asks again, her British accent strong in her words.

"I'm not hiding anything!" I put my hands up in defense.

Then Howard clears his throat and we turn to look at him, lifting the covers of my bed, showing the files I had under it.

"Were you saying?" he cocks an eyebrow at me.

"I have no idea how those got there..."

"Arabella..." Howard says my name in that tone I do not appreciate for one bit, so I crack.

"Okay, I can explain."

"You saw Barnes in the forest?" Peggy asks unsure.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it was him." I say, "I'm sure of it. He's working for the Russians."

"What? What do you mean?" Howard asks. "You're saying he is alive AND a traitor?!"

"No." I say, "well… not exactly. I believe he is under some sort of hypnosis or mental control—he might even be brainwashed."

"Oh—brainwashed," Howard says, his tone of voice doesn't lets me know he is actually taking me serious "and you got that information from speaking to him for 5 minutes? Did he also told you how he survived a 5,000 feet fall?!"

"I'm not appreciating your tone, Stark." I warn my brother.

"Well, I'm not appreciating your bed time stories neither."

"Arabella, you'll have to understand this is all very difficult for us to believe," Peggys says "after all, it's been—"

"I know!" I cut her off harshly, "I know how long it has been, nobody knows that better than me, Peggs. But I am telling you, it was him!"

"Oh, okay. So," Howard starts, pinching the bridge of his nose "let me see if I understand correctly. James Barnes survived a 5,000 feet fall and he works for the Russians now and he is what project Rebirth refers about, am I right?" he doesn't waits for my response when he already adds "are you hearing the load of crap you're talking about?"

"I know what I saw, I know what I am saying!" I defend myself back "I read the files, it all makes sense! His body was never recovered, Howard! He froze in the river and was found by Russians, he probably lost his arm due to exposure and had to be replaced by that!" I say pointing at the photo of the soldier where his metal arm is visible but his face is not.

"Arabella, Barnes fell from a train, his body wasn't recovered because it was a 5,000 fall. He could have never survived."

"But he did! He survived! He's alive and somewhere out there!"

"Arabella, okay, just calm down..." Peggy says and I try, I really try but when Howard places his hands on my shoulders for some reason I do not understand I know, he believes I am insane, that he believes I am making this whole story up.

"I'm not making it up, Howard!" I say, shrugging them off "I did my research, the files—Bucky's experiments made by Zola, he even admitted he tested Schmidt's serum into Bucky—and now this super soldier appears and he is fast and strong and he IS Bucky—you have to believe me!"

"Bells, this whole thing has gone out of control, since that mission—the base where he—" he sighs "I knew it might bring back memories of Bar—"

"THIS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT!" I scream as I make the table smash itself against the wall next to Howard "SO STOP GIVING ME THAT PITY LOOK OF "POOR CRAZY, BELLS!" CAUSE I AM NOT!" I say, using air quotes when needed; making him rolls his eyes briefly at me.

"Calm down, Arabella!" he shouts, "I wanna believe you but I also believe you might had a flashback or you were drug or—"

"I saw him!" I choke on my words, "I saw how he looked right at me and didn't even recognized me. It was him, and he didn't even knew—"

"Arabella—"

You know him too.

"Karpov."

"What—" Howard asks looking at me like if I had three heads, "What are you even talking about—"

"My interrogation with Karpov," I say, "I asked him about the soldier and he said I knew him too. That's what he meant, he knew Bucky was my fiancée, he knew it—he intentionally chose him to test the serum."

"Bells, Karpov wasn't on the base where Bucky was retrieved."

"He knew it! He—" I choke between words, "this is to get to me—I—Bucky—he mentioned I was his mission. He was after me."

"Okay, Bells…" Howard says, "you're overreacting and you need to calm down. Not everything revolves around you."

"You don't believe me, do you!?" I choke on my tears, as I feel my throat constrict around "poor crazy Bells. She lost her fiancée and is now talking bat-shit crazy things, isn't she?"

"Arabella, James Barnes is dead—he has been dead for years!"

"He is not dead! He was never dead! Don't you see it!?"

"You want me to believe Barnes returned from the dead—whatever trip he was on now!?—You're fucking crazy! Crazy since he died! Crazy since THAT!—" he yells pointing at my belly "—DIED!"

"NO! NO,PLEASE DON'T!"

"Arabella…" he sighs, "I'm so sorry."

"NO, GOD NO, PLEASE DON'T!"

"Bells… goddammit, I—"

"Save it," I say, "I don't wanna hear it." I grab my coat and I'm about to open the door when his hand pushes it close, making me glare at him.

"Arabella, sis, I'm so—"

"Don't call me that," I say, choking on my tears but they escape anyways "if you were truly my brother... I trail off, looking down before I meet his eyes with my own ones fill with rage "...you would have never said that."

He looks at me shocked, about to say something back but a flick on my hand and the door burst open, sending Howard stumbling back and giving me the chance to leave the room and everyone in it.

"There's something wrong with me…" I cry and I press the pillow closer to me.

"No," Howard says, sitting next to me in bed, his arms cradling my trembling body "you're different, but that's okay," he lifts my chin giving me one of his 'not-so-known-genuine-Howard-Stark-smiles' and finishes saying "the best of people are. It's all gonna be okay, sis. I promise."

After a few hours at my room I hear a soft knock on my door however I don't answer. I don't know how to.

"Arabella… I'm so sorry, sis. I am an idiot. I didn't mean to—" Howard sighs, catching himself tangled on his own words. "I'm so sorry I acted like a monster. Forgive me, Bells. Please open up."

I don't answer back; instead I stay quiet until he realizes I won't open the door and leaves, it's not until his steps are so faint that I can't hear them anymore that I break down against a pillow, choking my cries of sadness.

For my fiancée; Bucky, for my best friend; Steve and for my baby. My dead unnamed baby.

"I wanna name her—"

"You do realize it could be a boy?" Howard says looking at me from over his news paper.

"As well it could be a girl." I reply back, "Bucky would have liked a girl" I say, stroking my 4-month pregnant belly.

"Well, if it is a girl…" he sighs "I'm gonna have to teach her to stay away from boys—"

"Like you?" I cock an eyebrow at him, which only makes him frown at me.

"And if it's a boy…" he starts smirking.

"No." I say, "no, no and no. You're not turning my son into a playboy, Howard."

"Why not!?"

"I don't think having a kid just like you roaming around the house is something you or I would enjoy. So, no."

"Awwwwh."

"What about this?" I say, "when you have your own baby, you're welcome to raise him in your own libertine ways."

"That's not fair" he says chuckling, "the odds of me fathering a child any time soon are very unlikely."

When I wake up, my eyes roam the room till I find the clock. The red numbers shine bright with the digits that mark 3:06 AM. So, I decide I should stop crying on the ground and cry on my own bed for a change, at least it would be more comfortable.

The files fill my bed so I decide to take them away, throwing them on the ground when a specific file named as "SUBJECT No. 17" in Russian letters gets my attention. A file that was retrieved at the base where Karpov was in, where I first saw him.

I open the file and start scanning over it, nothing important or something I should know. Mentions of treatments, therapies and such fill the pages; I'm about to close it when a log from Dr. Friedzen referring to the subject as "The American" gets my full attention.

"—May, 1960

The American has been put out of ice for the first time in 15 years, he seems confused and shows signs of violence when Dr. Kirby asked him to test his new arm out—the American know to be referred as "subject No. 17 has been presenting erratic behavior, doesn't seems to be aware of the fact his arm was cut out in previous surgery and replaced by a bionic arm—a prototype created specially for him."

—August, 1965

The subject has been in recovery for about 8 hours, has responded well to treatments however his violent behavior does not seems to be changing. He acknowledges the fact he is not between "friends."

Therapy sessions with Dr. Krapowzkiev have led to important discoveries—that and the fact we have gotten ourselves with his file information from when he was in the Army—a Howling Commando.

The data found tells us he might remember some fractions of his life, hypnosis treatments are advised to be more frequently. Even, treatments per week and if the case requires, they should be every time subject is out of cryo treatment.

*Side note—Cryo process does not guarantee the subject to remain obedient to commands."

I fucking knew it.

It's 4:35 AM according to my clock when I decide to leave my room with nothing but a small bag full of the information I had managed to get from the files. I had managed to make my way out from the base without anyone noticing and I was now deep into the woods, snow filling the roads and making me shiver even though the SHIELD suit was supposed to bring me heat. I hug the leather jacket closer to my body as I continue to walk through the snow filled path when I feel him.

I knew it was him. So, I stop.

"How long have you been following me?" I ask, but he doesn't responds. I take a deep breath before turning around and face him.

He stands there with his mask off, knowing I had already seen his face and for me, seeing him again, it was the wakeup call I needed to know he was really alive and I wasn't crazy as everybody was making it out to be.

Bucky was alive and he was here.

I drop my bag into the ground and stand there with my arms by my sides, neither of us making a sound until I could no longer stand it and ask.

"Do you know who I am?" I ask with growing hope in my heart that he could remember me, us.

But he doesn't. His eyes just get colder towards me, despising my words, the fact I was breathing the same air as him.

"Guess not," I chuckle sadly, "what—what did you meant when you said I was your mission? What do your people want with me?"

The silence treatment mixed with that look full of hate and loathing was something I was not familiar with and it made me uncomfortable to think that the man who was supposed to love me for the rest of my life could also be the man who was assigned to end it.

"Bucky, I—"

"Stop calling me that!" he demands and I stop in my tracks, just a few meters away from him "who the hell is Bucky?! Why do you keep calling me that!?"

"You—"

"Arabella, get out of there!"

"Howard?" I ask in shock as the voice from my brother erupts in my ear, making my jump a little in scare "How did you found—"

"This is so not the time!"

"But what are you even talking about—"

"It's a trap! They are after you! You need to get out!"

"I told you and you didn't even heard me and—"

"I'LL APOLOGIZEE LATER! GET OUT OF THERE! IT'S A TRAP—THEY SET UP IT SO THEY COULD TRAP YOU!"

But before I can connect the dots, Bucky has me pinned to the ground and has a syringe aiming at my neck, a syringe I'm stopping with my hands but his strength is bigger than mine.

"Arabella! God—answer me! Are you okay!?" Howard screams in the earpiece.

"HE'S ON ME! HE HAS A SYRINGE!" I struggle between words "…HELP ME!"

"ARABELLA!" Howard yells and then I feel it. The syringe going into my neck, whatever it has in it blurs my vision and makes my thoughts start to fade.

I try to concentrate energy into my hands but its to no avail. I seem to be weaker by the second and I, no longer, am able to do anything.

"How—Howard…." I whisper.

"ARABELLA! ARA—" his words get cut when Bucky takes the earpiece away from my ear and crushes it into the ground with his boot.

The last thing my eyes see is his blue eyes looking down at me before I finally slip into oblivion.