Knocking, she decided, was for rookies.

She jogged down the stairs and made a face at the two officers that looked like they were going to bar her out, then shoved past anyway.

"What, you think a couple jack-booted thugs are gonna keep me out?" she glared, and had opened her mouth with a few choice words when she was addressed by General Phillips.

"Can I help you, Lewis?"

Steve had assembled a team of men to fit his needs - Dum Dum, Gabriel, Jonesy, and a few others she didn't know - but the two who she expected more out of were Bucky and her father. Bucky might've been the only one to even look momentarily sheepish, standing at Steve's right side, head kinda down.

William on his left, however, did not, staring directly at her.

Phillips cleared his throat, waved off the sub-par guards trying to wrestle her out of the room.

"These are delicate proceedings," the General went on. "And we do not have time to dally."

"Oh no, by all means." she said, glaring between her father and her sweetheart. "Go on."

"Well if you could just leave the room." he said, arching both brows. "We will."

"Sir, all due respect, sir-"

"Now how come every time you start a sentence like that, somethin' comes outta your mouth I don't find at all respectful?" he tilted his head at her. "Captain Rogers was very set. You're not going."

"Sir-"

"You're not going." he said again, and watched her eye twitch. "Is that a problem, Lewis?"

It was. It was such a problem.

"Sir," she said again, and waited until he waved her on. "Again, with all due respect, Rogers is compromised, his judgement's bad on this one. I'm good for this team."

The men who hadn't trained with her nothing short of scoffed. Her father shot them glares - Bucky just smirked his I-know-something-you-don't smirk, but Steve just folded his arms across his chest.

"Compromised, Cadet Lewis?" he said, every inch Captain America sure.

Considering it was the first thing he'd said to her in over a week, she decided that if he was going to be mean, she'd be meaner.

"I thought you didn't have no problems hearing anymore, Captain?"

Mean, mean, mean.

He lifted his chin.

Phillips lifted a hand to cut her off.

"You aren't going, Mox. That's the final consensus. Do not struggle with it." She was honestly more shocked he used her nickname than anything. "I've had enough of your sulk."

"You wouldn't have to deal with my 'sulk' 'f ya hadda sent me off with them." she waved vaguely at the men around the table. "Sir."

"No, then I would've had to deal with his." he pointed to Steve, pitching forward in his chair to stab a finger in his general direction. "Now, get out, please and thankyou."

She huffed. Howard took her elbow, slid his arm through the gap.

"C'mon, babydoll," he said, in a very sleazy drawl. "Let's go do somethin' fun while your daddy and your fella are out shooting at bad guys, what say you?"

Steve's brow came down and she was almost sure there was a hot beam of light from his eyes trying to set her spine on fire.

She instigated her new found power of hip swinging and eye fluttering and aimed both up at Howard, knowing all eyes were on them. Peggy's red mouth caught her eye, twisted into a half unamused, half impressed smile. She tilted her chest, aimed it up and out.

"I say that's just a swell idea, Howie, honey."

She was a bitch and she was probably gonna go to Hell.

One Month Later

She had a cigarette hanging from her bottom lip and the guts of an engine between her knees when Steve came out from his debrief. Bucky sat heavily across from her, beer bottle in hand, legs splayed and elbows cocked on the back of the chair.

"Didn' know you smoked."

"Don't." she puffed around it, only lifting her eyes for a second to see that he wasn't in bandages. "Have fun?"

"Tonnes. Got shot at. Killed someone's sons. The usual."

"Coulda been worse." she said, and put her eyes back down. "You coulda been born a girl and have to sit at home useless."

"You're not useless." Steve said, sitting down on the available chair beside her.

After him, the rest of the men followed, all between them drinks and a deck of cards tucked under someone's pit. They gave her long once overs, looking at the engine, but only Dum Dum came over to clap her on the shoulder and say hello.

"The hell'd you know 'bout it?" she said, and pulled out the cigarette, blowing it out away from him. A part of her brain was still concerned for his asthma, and it made her angry.

Angry-r.

"I think I know a thing or two about bein' useless, thank you." he said dryly.

"No you don't." she scoffed, and twisted a bolt hand enough that the handle bit into her palm and she could feel it bruising from repetitive use - but it'd be gone by tomorrow, so what did she care?

"Don't I?" he sat back in his chair, spread his arms. "Well, you know best."

She glared at him from under her lashes, and lifted an oily claw to tuck her hair behind her ears, before lifting her fingers to pinch the cigarette between.

"No, I don't know nuthin'." she said flatly, getting to her feet so hard the chair scraped across the floor. "I'm just a stupid little girl."

"Mox." he said, and stood, but she was already storming to the door. "Moxie. Darcy." he took her by the elbow, hand clamping gently, like she might break. It made her temper spike even higher. She wrenched her arm away, turned to glare up at him, jaw set, a curl of smoke issuing through her nose.

"Wassamatter with you?" he notched his voice down an octave, stared into her eyes without blinking. He had made himself smaller to catch her gaze, appear less intimidating.

"'S'matter with me?" she threw up her hands. "Are you kiddin'?"

"You usually look at least half way happy when I come home." he said, and folded his arms. "Unless this time you were hopin' I got hurt."

"No." she was frankly, very appalled he thought so badly of her. "But goddammit if I ain't got halfa mind t' smack you on your ass for sayin' that to me."

"Go ahead." he said, and waited. "Go on. I'm not playin'. Hit me, if it's gonna make ya feel better."

"What'd make me feel better-" she said, around the smoke in her mouth. "-S'if you got off yer high horse and let me fight with you."

"It's war, Darcy. It ain't a back alley, anymore, baby." he softened. "I can't let you get hurt."

"Well, yer doin' a fuckin' bang-up job, Rogers." she turned on her heel and slammed the door on her way out. Never mind the Commandos had heard everything, never mind that her father was now staring at the cigarette between her lips as she stormed past.

She was pissed off.

"Want me to beat him up, sweetheart?"

"No, Daddy."

"What about Barnes? Can I hit him?"

"Yeah, sure." she stomped on the cigarette and went on to her bunk. She was almost entirely sure that she could hear Bucky's winging about his dead arm all the way under her covers.

That night, she had the most bizarre dream.

She dreamed that Steve Rogers was some kind of film star - his Captain America was the story. It told about his rough and tumble childhood, all his sickness, his best friendship with Bucky, meeting Dr. Erskine and Howard Stark, the whole kit and kaboodle.

He got closer and closer to Peggy, still awkward and fumbly with ladies. He was a hero by himself, and the Commandos were all famous and skilled. Then the war ended and he wrote books, made his life story into a picture with real footage and pictures from the war. He and Peggy got married, had babies, grew more and more famous and rich until he and Howard banded together and recreated the serum.

And she watched it all in the film version, but was never there at all, a figment of her own imagination.

She woke up and was so- upset - she hugged the bear that Peggy had given her and in her nightgown, picked Howard's lock and went to sleep on his couch.

In the morning, there was a blanket around her, and a pot of coffee next to some little flowers, a big shiny apple, and luke warm crepes.

He was at his desk, feet up, some papers in his hands and eyes staring at the words. But he was only moving to breathe, not to read, or to think, nothing going on behind his overly intelligent eyes.

"G'mornin'." she mumbled, keeping the blanket hoisted high around her neck as she sat. She tested the temperature of the coffee with the back of her hand, then drank out of the pot.

"Good morning." he said, a small smile on his mouth. "How are you?"

She shrugged a shoulder, one arm clamped around the bear.

"Alright, I guess."

"You know," he said in a slow, even drawl. "I got a perfectly good bed in the back room."

"Yeah, 'cept you were in it when I got here." there was a pause. "I was only gonna stay a couple hours, just, calm down a little bit. I didn't wanna be alone, but I, uh, didn't mean to fall asleep. Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad you stayed." he put the papers on his desk, reclined onto the back legs of the chair. "I don't want you to have another incident concerning your intakes, Lewis."

"Incident." she scoffed, drank some more coffee. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" both eyebrows hiked on his forehead. "You, wondering around in your nightdress in the middle of an army barracks at some godawful time of night, you call that fine?"

She sighed, put down the coffee pot, rubbed her eyes.

"Shoulda left." she muttered.

"No." he said. "I am happy you stayed. I need to talk to you."

"If you're gonna lecture me about good machines and fuel -"

"I'm not gonna lecture you. I'm gonna tell you." he swallowed. "Think you should break off from Steve."

She blinked at him.

"Okay." she said slowly. "What the hell for?"

"You're supposed to be in a relationship with him. You don't talk, you don't touch, you don't look at the fella. You spend more time drinkin' with me than you do thinkin' about him-"

"Steve is always on my mind, Howard." she said firmly. "I love him."

He recoiled, then swung down, flipping his shiny shoes on the floor. With a calculated grace, he strolled around the desk, shoved over the coffee pot and handed her the apple, taking a seat on the table in front of her.

She took a big bite, wiping the juice on the back of her hand, watching him link his fingers.

"Darcy." he said quietly. "I know you love him. I know that. But I also know you're unhappy."

"We're in the middle of a war, what right have I got to be happy?"

"How about... every one? Every single right to happiness. You should be as happy as you can. And this - spat, you two are having? It isn't fair. I've been talking to Steve, and he's more and more sure that the longer it goes on, the more you hate him. Do you?"

"Do I hate Steve?" she rolled her eyes. "I did just tell you I loved him."

"How about if you love him-... In a best friend, kinda way? Like he loves Barnes." he stared at her. "How about if it ain't the kinda love you think it is?"

She blinked at him, chewed and swallowed her apple bit.

"Howie, did you get enough sleep last night?"

He chuckled.

"I got plenty, sweetheart."

"So you're drunk, to ask me somethin' like that?" she took another bite of the apple, and around it, said: "I mean, you're a smart fella, but you ask some dumb questions."

His smile didn't falter, but the warmth in his face did.

"I just needed to make sure," he said. "That you knew what you were doing. Relationships are about working things out - about being together. You two aren't separated by the war, like everyone else is, but you're still not... co-existing. If he never lets this thing about letting you fight, go, will you?"

She swallowed.

"Don't think I will." she muttered. "But that isn't to say I won't still love him."

"Really?" he raised one brow at her. "Comin' to me because you're alone, because he ain't letting you do what you trained for, what you damn near worked to the bone for, and you're going to over look it when the war is said and done?"

"I will." she said. "I'll have to."

"You shouldn't." he replied, with a kind of surprising intensity. "Baby, if you were my girl, and you trained like you did to fight in the war like you have, I woulda let you go. Would've counted every finger and toe when you came home, and sat on pins and needles every time you left, but I woulda let you. Because that's what love - real love - is like."

She swallowed, even if there was nothing in her mouth.

He went on.

"Were you my girl, I'd make whatever your beautiful brain dreamed up. Hand you the world on a diamond platter. There wouldn't be a star in the sky I wouldn't give you, if you asked for it. If you wanted it. I'd do anything for you." his hand, dry but stained with machinery, reached out and settled over hers, squeezing gently. "I would see you happy if it was the last thing I did."

She squeezed his hand in return.

"That bein' said." he smiled, and the warmth was back. "You ain't my girl. But I still want you happy. So if you and I are ever gonna work out..." he nudged her knee with his own, chuckling.

She smiled in return, feeling strangely girly, a little weak kneed. Howard, she was sure, would make someone an excellent husband, one day.

"I do, you know." she squeezed his hand. "Love you, Howie."

"Yeah, baby, I love you too." he tilted his head at her, waiting for her to think, all the while holding her hand.

She considered the regularity of it - both hands marked with oil and stains of metal - both with matching callouses and near same size. She put her apple down on the table beside him and leaned forward, settling her cheek to his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her, legs bracketing hers.

She didn't even mind the chin he tucked over her bare shoulder, or the gentle hands that smoothed over her back. The way his knuckles lingered, a little, on the curve of her waist, or the slight way he inclined his head so that his mouth was kind of resting against her skin.

It felt warm, and safe, and cozy, in ways she haddn't felt since sharing the couch with Bucky, just before he went to war.

"I won't give, not on this." she muttered. "But I have to fix it. You're right. I'm miserable. I'm lonely. I feel - useless."

He hugged her just a fraction tighter. He must've frowned, because his mustache suddenly scrubbed over her shoulder.

"Tell me what you need me to do." he told the wall over her head. "And I'll do it. For you. You have my word."