"Are you alright, Alice?" asked Agent Carter two days later.

Alice blinked and glanced over her shoulder. She couldn't see the other woman since Alice was hidden behind a screen, twisting her hair away under a flat cap, but the question surprised her. Carter didn't usually small-talk, so this was a question with purpose.

"I'm… fine, I suppose." Alice tucked the last lock of hair away and then checked herself with the handmirror she'd been given. With her chest bound under baggy clothing and her hair covered, she could pass for a young man. Carter had asked to see her disguise. "Why do you ask?"

"What you learned the other day was no easy thing," came Carter's voice, softer than usual. "And you seem… distracted today."

Well, Alice supposed that was true enough. She'd come to Brooklyn with no intention of seeing any of her loved ones, especially Steve, and had somehow wound up with him so entrenched in her heart that she couldn't go a half hour without thinking of him. Even as the thought of him crossed her mind now a smile flitted across her face, making her appear distinctly un-boy-like.

They'd been near stupid with smiling when they parted the night of their kissing marathon across Brooklyn. Steve had walked her to her hotel and then slowly backed away, getting a little bit further each time before Alice would dart forwards to be swept up in another kiss. They'd said "goodnight" about a hundred times.

The next morning, when they caught up for breakfast, things had been strangely awkward at first. They'd made their way to a table in near silence, cautiously avoiding touch. Maybe it was the public setting, or the fresh light of morning, but Alice had felt a pall of fear come over her at the hesitation in Steve's eyes.

"Good morning," she'd begun with.

"Morning," he'd replied, eyes darting over her face. The corner of his mouth had twitched and Alice suddenly understood his hesitation: he was afraid that she had changed her mind.

A blinding grin had crossed her face, and like magic it lit up Steve's face as well. For a few moments they'd just grinned at each other across the table.

"Last night I was thinking," Steve began.

"You had time to think?" Alice had interrupted, mock offended.

Steve blushed, ducked his head, and smiled shyly. "After you left. I was thinking… like you said, surely we should have lots to say to each other. But we didn't. Yesterday."

They really hadn't. They'd talked about going to the park, and the movies, and about inconsequential things, but not about the drastic shift between them. It hadn't really felt startling, after all. Exciting, definitely, so much so that Alice's heart pounded against the inside of her ribs, but not strange.

After all, for years she'd been signing her letters Yours, Alice.

"I…" Alice shook her head. "I don't know what to say." She thought about it. I love you seemed a little bit quick, though it didn't feel like a lie. I want the world to stop spinning and time to freeze so I can be here with you forever. Her pounding heart stuttered. I must lie to you, and then leave you.

Oh. That was why she hadn't wanted to say anything.

Steve still gave her that shy smile. "I don't really know what to say either. I've never… I've always…" he shook his head. "What I mean is, I want to say that I want this. All of it. Whatever you want."

Alice had felt tears tremble at the corner of her eyes at his indomitable earnestness. She shouldn't have been surprised that he approached falling in love like he did fighting: with his whole heart.

She reached across the table to take his hand. "I want this too," she said with all of her heart. She wondered if romance always felt this terrifying or if it was just her.

Steve had let out a breath and stared at her like she had the universe inside her. "I don't know what to do now," he said slightly numbly.

Alice smiled. "I don't really know either, but you could start by kissing me."

Without needing any further convincing he'd stretched across the table to kiss her, and this time it wasn't heated or surprised because Alice knew the feel of his lips against hers and his fingers against her cheek. It was warm, familiar, and everything she ever wanted. She shivered.

Steve pulled back and sat down. "I… I hope it's not too intimidating to admit that I've been hoping for this for…" he blew out a breath. "Years."

Alice laughed. "You're not alone there."

He gave her one of his small smiles and it made her stomach do something shivery. Most days she felt a thousand years old, but all it took was a glance from Steve and she felt like a knock-kneed fifteen year old again.

Steve squeezed her hand and met her eyes. "So what do you say we…" he frowned. "I'm trying to say 'take it slow and see where this goes' without sounding cliched. Or stupid."

"Well that's certainly an innovative way of saying it," Alice said, feeling so fond her heart could burst. She returned the hand squeeze.

A cleared throat at the edge of the table had them both glancing over to see the waiter, looking uncomfortable. "Are you two ready to order now?"

Steve had ducked his head with a blush and Alice laughed under her breath. "Yes, thank you."

Like an echo of the memory, Alice heard someone clear their throat. Agent Carter. The disguise. Training. Right.

"I'm not distracted," she lied. "I'm just concentrating on this."

"Are you ready? You've been behind there ten minutes now."

Flustered, Alice set down the handmirror and came out from behind the screen. A second before she emerged she remembered her task and changed her gait to the one she used when she was 'Al' – not as regular as her usual gait, with that half-skipping quality that street boys had.

Carter stood in her usual uniform with her hands folded across her chest and her eyes assessing.

"Bonjour madame," Alice uttered lowly, and touched her cap.

Carter tapped her chin, watching with a critical gaze. "Not bad, you've got the basic principle down." She gestured for Alice to turn. A full length mirror leaned against the wall, reflecting Alice's boyish appearance. Alice slouched her shoulders some more.

Carter appeared over her shoulder. "Disguise isn't about hiding your features, it's about making small changes to your appearance: wearing glasses, changing your gait and mannerisms, slight makeup to alter your face. Let's work with what you have."

Carter brought out a leather bag that clinked slightly when it moved, and the two of them opened it on the worktable. For the rest of the morning Carter showed Alice how to create false scars using wax, how to use a small bag of makeup to drastically alter the appearance, and even suggested using grease paint in low light to give her the suggestion of a beard. She had Alice walk up and down the length of the warehouse, critiquing the minutiae of how she walked and talked.

"The key to disguise is understanding your own physicality first. As a performer, you've got that skill already. Build on it."

Alice nodded mutely, concentrating on the muscles in her face and the way she projected her expression.

"You seem less distracted now," Carter noted.

Alice's façade didn't break, but she felt something inside her chest shrink. Already she was becoming Agent Homer again, Die Sirene again.

How could I let Steve slip away so easily? She thought, pulling on the cuffs of her sleeves. She swallowed. And why should I hold on to him, if I'm just going back again?


Excerpt from academic paper 'Analyzing Desires and Dreams: World War II' by Eleanor Harkness (1980), p. 66

... analysis becomes even more difficult when it comes to another prominent figure of the post-1942 push against the Nazis, Captain Steven Grant Rogers (alias: Captain America). Like many of these propaganda-based figures, his true private life remained shrouded from the public. Based on existing records, there is no evidence of his having had any significant relationships in his lifetime: no dependents included on any of his military forms, no marriage records, not even a mention of a partner in a newspaper. In his case, as in many others, some historians have posited that the lack of such evidence could suggest that the figure could have fallen outside the 1940s accepted identity of 'heterosexual': in Rogers's case particularly, Brooklyn was known for being a particularly accepting place at that point in time.

Others have pointed out that though Rogers performed with the USO and became a prominent figure in war, he was naturally very private. It's possible that he may have had deep and lasting relationships that never made their way into historical record. It's a subject that has been endlessly discussed, given his fame and lasting legacy, and will no doubt continue to be debated in perpetuity.


Carter began giving Alice 'tasks' throughout the city. It felt like a culmination of everything Alice had been learning, and a strange reminder of what she had been doing in Austria. Carter would take Alice out on a walk, point to a random stranger then say "tail that person, unobserved, and give me a complete report on their activities tomorrow", then disappear into the crowd. On other days she tasked Alice with completing an information drop with a "contact", or losing a tail that had been assigned to her.

Early in their training Carter had recited a phone number to Alice, "in case you get picked up by the police". Once, while slipping out the staff door of a department store on her way to lose a tail, a local beat cop did question Alice. Alice knew that giving him the SOE phone number would just take time and would likely impact badly on her, so she burst into tears and spun a tale about how she'd just seen her ex boyfriend with his new girlfriend and she couldn't bear to be seen alone in public by them and she saw this door and – "it's alright, ma'am," the officer interrupted, a mix of weariness and empathy in his eyes. "You go on your way now."

Alice kept up her weapons and fighting training, but most of her training time was now spent on sneaking through the city, putting on new identities and completing small, meaningless missions.

She spent every moment outside of her training with Tom, listening to his stories about school and home and buying his coffee, or on dates with Steve. True to their agreement, they were taking things slow. They still did all the things they'd done before: movies, coffee, walking around Brooklyn and getting in the occasional fight, but now they shared the same space, held hands and shared kisses and entwined themselves into each other's lives. On the colder evenings Steve invited Alice up to his place and they sat in front of the fireplace trading stories. Alice critiqued the sketches Steve had done for the newspaper, and she told him a little about the new codes she'd learned, without giving away exactly what she'd used them for. Sometimes, when she felt brave enough, she sang along to the radio like she used to.

Singing to Steve was different. She'd grown used to crowds who gasped and wept at her voice, who cried out "Sirene!" and showered flowers on the stage. Steve just sat there with a small smile playing at his mouth, and though he didn't say much Alice knew that he wasn't hearing the Siren. He was hearing Alice.

Alice kept so many secrets.

It felt like she was living two lives: the Alice who'd ferried illegal pamphlets around Austria and who was learning how to spy for the Allies during the day, and the Alice who spent her evenings kissing Steve Rogers on park benches and trying to get him to put his hands on her higher than her waist.

She wondered when those two Alices would meet.


Excerpt from "Training SOE Saboteurs in World War Two" by Bernie Ross, BBC

An agent's progress at Beaulieu would be tested in 'schemes' lasting 48 or 72-hours. These tested the agents' ability in making contact with a 'cut out' (intermediate); tailing someone in a city; losing someone who was following him or her. Longer schemes involved making contact with a supposed resistance member. The student was given a secret number to call in the course of the project should he or she run up against the local police, who would then receive an explanation from SOE about the agent's true identity. The instructors used to think more of the students who brazened out their cover in the local police station, than of those who quickly resorted to the emergency number.


March, 1942

One evening, Alice had to cancel a dinner date with Steve as Carter had informed her they had another 'task' in the city.

Alice reported for duty outside a Manhattan bar in a dark mauve dress and heels, as per instructions, and her eyebrows flew up her forehead when she saw that Carter had changed out of her uniform and into a deep red cocktail dress. She still wore her dangerous red lipstick, but she'd also gone to extra effort to curl her hair and paint her nails.

"This is for camouflage purposes only," Carter said in response to Alice's raised eyebrows.

Alice knew better than to tell the other woman she looked nice. They weren't dressed like this for fun, that much was clear.

Alice adjusted her dress and looked up at the windows of the bar. Golden light spilled out onto the street, and she could just see silhouettes moving around inside. "What's the task?"

Carter cleared her throat. "I know you've spent years as a socialite in Austria and Germany, and that you've used that role in the past to learn information. But we may require you to do more than obtain information. We might need documents, or personal items, or technology." She jerked her head at the bar. "Inside this bar is a dark-haired businessman who arrived with three guests – two men and a woman."

At Alice's curious glance she shrugged. "I saw them walk in a few minutes ago. Your task is to steal the man's glasses. I'll go in before you to monitor your progress. When you've completed your task, meet me in the alley behind the bar. Understand?"

Alice nodded, her mind already whirling with ideas for how to part a man with his glasses.

Carter didn't move yet, though. "Ms Homer. However you undertake this mission, I want to make one thing vitally clear. Flirtation is not a tool that should be used lightly." Her eyes were serious. "It can be very useful, but it's not like learning to crack a code, or telling a lie. You will meet – and have probably already met – men for whom flirtation is an open invitation which cannot be taken back. They deserve to be…" a flash of anger crossed her face, but then Carter shook her head sharply. "You will meet them. You are a vital asset, but I do not want you to risk your life – or your safety – unnecessarily. Do you understand me?"

Alice held Carter's gaze, thinking of the hungry glances and insidious wandering hands she'd encountered since she'd been a teenager. She nodded mutely.

Carter straightened. "Excellent. Follow me inside in three minutes, but don't look for me."

"Understood," Alice said. A moment later she stood alone on the pavement, shivering in the cold and trying not to think about what Carter feared.


The task ended up being simple enough. She found the businessman quickly, as he and his companions cheered loudly over a round of champagne. Perhaps Carter's words had impacted more heavily than she'd thought, because she avoided the direct route and instead made friends with the man's female companion in the bathroom and got an invitation to their table.

She sat with them for half an hour, sharing drinks with them (though careful not to drink more than a few sips) and learning about the recent success of their small business near Times Square. As far as they knew she was from out of town, with an unidentifiable southern accent.

She only saw Carter once, as she approached the bar and ordered a whisky. Carter didn't look her way and a moment later had faded into the throng of bar patrons again.

It took another ten minutes for Alice to steal the man's glasses. She'd noticed that he kept sliding them off his nose to clean them with the corner of his jacket, almost a nervous instinct, or perhaps the smoke in the bar was fogging them. She went to the bar to order another round, but waited with the drinks, watching the businessman, until he slid his glasses off his nose again.

When she approached the table with the drinks and called for a cheers of celebration, the businessman had the glasses awkwardly pinched in one hand against his jacket and the other with a champagne flute pressed into it. Alice tried not to grin when he set the glasses down on the table instead of trying to put them on one-handed.

One of his male companions, effervescent with drink, gave a speech commending everyone on their efforts. Alice sat down with a stumble, and an instant later the glasses were tucked into her pocket. She made sure to keep them raising their glasses for another minute. When all the fuss was over the businessman set his hand on the table where the glasses had been, but then looked up when his female companion drew him into the debate Alice had started about whether working in Manhattan or further outside the city was more profitable.

Alice stayed another ten minutes to divert suspicion, then feigned a yawn and stepped away, careful not to make her departure too memorable or too sudden.

She pushed open the heavy back door to the alley behind the bar with a half-hidden grin on her face, which fell the moment she saw what waited for her beyond.

Carter stood in the center of the narrow, barely-lit alleyway, standing with her shoulders straight and her chin high as she faced off against four men swaying from booze, their attention focused on Carter's red lips and figure-hugging dress. Carter's back was to Alice, but Alice could sense her wariness from here.

"Why don't you go home now, gentlemen," Carter said. Her voice was crisp, fearless. In the half-open door Alice shivered in the cold night air.

"Why don't you come with us, sweetheart?" said the foremost man. There was a single streetlight at the end of the alleyway, and Alice could just make out the details of his broad face. The men fanned out and two of them slipped to Carter's right, encircling her. Carter's head turned slightly and Alice saw her eyes darting, calculating. Neither she nor the men had noticed Alice yet, as the bar door was in shadow from a nearby building's overhang.

Alice slid through the door, shut it silently behind her, and slipped through the shadows.

The man who'd first spoken stepped forward and grabbed Carter's arm, and all the hairs on Alice's body stood up. But within the space of a second Carter reached out, there was a whirl of movement, and suddenly the man howled in pain.

The other three swore and rushed Carter. Alice dove for the loose brick she'd spotted at the end of the alley, heaved it up and then descended on the men. The instant her gaze settled on the first large, looming silhouette she slammed the brick into the side of his head – the skull is thinnest at the temple, she remembered. The man staggered but didn't drop; she'd misjudged slightly. Alice kicked the side of his knee and he went down. Her breath rasped in her throat.

The next man had turned to face her so she swung the brick at him too. It cracked into his nose and the reverberation made her drop the brick. The man reeled back, swearing, and Alice saw that the first man had gripped Carter from behind and was holding her fast despite her sharp twisting and her attempts to impale his feet with her heeled shoes.

Alice dodged past the man with the broken nose and jumped on Carter's attacker's back. He grunted at her weight, and then let out an urk when she cinched her arm around his neck in a vice-like choke hold that Carter had taught her. He scrabbled and reached over his shoulder to land a flailing punch on Alice's shoulder, making her hiss.

But he'd lost his grip on Carter. The agent reeled away to land a blow down on the first man Alice had hit, who'd climbed to his feet. The man Alice was choking the life out of slowly sank to the pavement, but then she felt hands on her shoulders and a second of sickening weightlessness before she crashed onto her side on the ground. Her head bounced off the pavement and she flashed back to a night years earlier in Brooklyn, of looming shadows and drunken breath.

She rolled over to see the man whose nose she had smashed to bits descending on her, teeth bared. He must have torn her off his friend. The rage in his eyes sent an ice-cold thrill down her spine. He reached down to grab her and she rolled, tumbling across the muck-covered alley pavement to escape his reaching hands. He followed up with a kick, which she scrambled on her hands and knees to avoid, her heartbeat deafening in her ears.

Alice rolled, scrambled and tripped backward down the alleyway as the man limped after her, swearing at her, calling her vile names that made her heart pound harder. The sounds of Carter and the other men fighting echoed after them. Her shoulder slammed into the alley wall and she rolled sideways to avoid another booted kick. The shadow of a building blocked out the streetlight and she glanced up to see a metal fire escape on the wall above her, too high to reach. The snarling man's footsteps scraped across the pavement.

The end of a string brushed Alice's cheek. She knew its purpose, there'd been a similar string tied to the fire escape at her old place in Brooklyn: a way up to the roof if you ever got locked out. Not strictly legal, but there all the same.

Alice scrambled back further as the man kept coming, and her back hit the brick wall. The man stormed up to her and Alice saw that his eyes were swallowed with blackness and hatred – and she yanked on the string.

The metal ladder crashed down directly onto the man's head. He dropped like a toppled building and actually bounced when he hit the ground.

Chest heaving, Alice looked up to see Carter rushing down the alley toward her, her heels clicking on the ground. Three unmoving silhouettes lay at the other end of the alley. Alice's breath rasped in her throat and she felt the stinging wetness of tears on her face.

Carter stepped over the fallen man and dropped to her knees beside Alice, her fingers flying to check her pulse, and then probing the scrape on her cheek and her torn clothes. "Are you hurt?"

Alice shook her head. Swallowed. She could taste blood, but she didn't think she was bleeding. "No."

"Good." Carter stilled with her hand on Alice's shoulder. "Thank you."

Alice met her eyes and saw it all from Carter's perspective: for her, Alice was still an unknown quantity. A double agent. Alice could have just disappeared into the darkness and left Carter to deal with the men. Alice thought that Carter could probably have handled them all the same, but she realized she'd made an impression.

Carter offered her hand. Alice took it and let the other woman pull her to her feet. She'd lost a shoe somewhere. Her heart was still racing and panic clawed at her chest.

"Did you get it?" Carter asked.

Alice blinked, then stared at the woman. She still cared about that? Numbly she reached into her pocket and pulled out the pair of glasses. Both lenses were shattered and the frame twisted.

Carter smiled at her. "Well done, Alice."

She blew out a shaky breath. "Not too bad yourself, Agent Carter."

"I think it's about time you started calling me Peggy." With that, Carter – Peggy – put her arm around Alice, who had started to shake, and they walked down the alleyway into the night.


New York Police Department Report 45830, Patrol Supervisor, 67 Precinct (1942):

... three individuals still in hospital, not expected to be discharged for another day or so. They refuse to give any information about their attacker(s). Officer Mulligan has interviewed them about the possibility of a mob connection (this was theorized early on, given the lack of witnesses and the mens injuries and silence), offering protection in exchange for information, but they still refuse to discuss the attack.


Once again, Moser had surprised Peggy. Peggy turned it over in her mind as she led the young woman back to the nearest SSR safehouse in Manhattan so they could tend to their wounds. Alice didn't speak much on the way, absorbed in her own thoughts.

Colonel Phillips had been so ready to denounce the young Austrian as a HYDRA plant when he heard Peggy's first report on the mysterious 'contact' sent to them by their French intelligence connections. Peggy had suspected the same (after her initial surprise at seeing none other than Alice Moser on that bench in Central Park), and dealt with her with appropriate caution. A HYDRA spy was still worth keeping close at hand, after all. But after a week Peggy was almost certain that wasn't what was going on.

Sitting on a wooden chair in the sparse safehouse as she probed Alice's ankle to check for a sprain, Peggy observed the other woman out of the corner of her eye.

Moser was hard to read. She'd come off as blank-faced and cautious when they'd first met, but Peggy had been able to tell that under that she was nervous, and desperate for something from Peggy. It turned out that she'd been desperate for help. Since then Peggy had come to learn so much more about her. As her reports to Phillips reflected, Peggy was certain that Alice could be a vital asset for the SSR in Germany and Austria, if only she could restrain her innate drive to help just enough to stay hidden.

Alice hadn't sprained her ankle. Peggy stood to fetch a damp cloth (hiding a wince – those men in the alley hadn't been easy to bring down), then began sponging the grime off the side of Alice's face. Alice's eyes weren't fixed anywhere in particular, but Peggy sensed her focusing on Peggy herself. They'd turned on a single gas lamp, which illuminated them both in golden light and shadows. Peggy could hear creaking floorboards and groaning pipes throughout the old apartment building.

"Was that your first fight?" Peggy asked.

Alice let out a breath, almost a laugh, and shook her head. "No. I had… an interesting childhood." The corner of her mouth lifted, then turned down as if remembering a sour memory. "This was the first one where someone made it clear they wanted to kill me, though."

"It's never easy. Thank you," Peggy repeated. "For helping me." She didn't often need help, but she had to admit that a part of her had felt relieved to see Alice emerging out of the darkness with a brick in her hand and ice-cold fury glinting in her eyes.

Alice didn't look at her. "You didn't think I would." More of a statement than a question.

Peggy let out a slow breath through her nose. She hadn't been sure. She'd pegged Alice as the kind to go get help rather than the kind to dive into a brawl headfirst. It didn't seem like her. Alice thought everything through. But yet, here they were.

"It's like I said when we met," Alice murmured. "It's safest not to trust."

Peggy pressed her lips together and eyed Alice's face. Her eyes were fixed in the middle distance. She'd stopped shaking, but she'd gone back to being pale and quiet again. It was always this way with Alice – when she got startled or upset she turned utterly silent. It was impossible to know what she was thinking.

Peggy reflected, not for the first time, that Alice must feel incredibly lonely. That was a spy's lot, after all.

She cleared her throat. "I know that you have an immense capacity for deception, Alice," she began, and Alice stiffened. "So I'm naturally suspicious when you're open with me. I might be your trainer, but you must know that I'm also assigned to keep an eye on you. At first I thought you were lulling me into a false sense of security, but… I think I've misjudged you. I've been treating you like a double agent-"

"Which I am-"

"But that's not quite it either. You're principled, brave." Alice's eyes flicked to Peggy's, then away again. "You're kind, which is rare these days. You also happen to be an incredible liar. It's taken me some time to reconcile the two and to see the first fact for what it is: a fact. Not a disguise. But I think you are just what this war – no. You are just what this world needs."

Alice's green eyes widened in the gloom. Peggy didn't know everything Alice had done and felt, but she probably knew more than most. She knew the value of being seen for all your skills and secrets and being told it was worth it.

Peggy stood up and went to the drink cabinet, to give Alice some time to think. As she poured out two tumblers of whiskey she thought about how she'd have to change her assessment of Project Homer in her next report to Phillips. She's almost ready.

Not for the first time, Peggy thought about Project Rebirth and the conversations (both formal and informal) she'd had with Doctor Erskine about his ideal candidate. Recently, when they spoke, she'd thought more and more of Alice when he described the qualities necessary. But each time the thought crossed her mind she dashed it away. Alice was needed behind enemy lines, not on the front line. If it weren't for Alice's perfect cover as the Siren, Peggy would take the idea to Erskine straight away.

Peggy picked up the whiskey tumblers and carried them across the paisley carpet to where Alice sat by the desk. She set one down in front of her.

"What are you most worried about, going back?" Peggy asked in a low tone. She'd been to Vienna once, before the war, and she couldn't imagine living in the heart of it all now.

Alice rubbed her jaw and wrapped her fingers around her glass. "There are too many things to count. But I'm ready for it, I think. The only thing is…" she shook her head and took a sip. She didn't grimace at the taste of the cheap whiskey. Peggy supposed she had too much practice with pretending to enjoy things she didn't have a taste for.

"What?" Peggy prompted. When Alice stayed silent, she added: "This isn't going in any files, Alice. I promise."

Alice swallowed. "It's going to be hard leaving Brooklyn again… harder than I thought it would be."

"Leaving Brooklyn, or leaving your loved ones?"

The blank façade vanished in an instant and Alice met Peggy's eyes with a fierce look on her face.

"Don't give me that look." Peggy knocked back a sip. "You had to know we'd have agents vet the people you've been spending time with. I personally vetted your brother. Neither he nor your friends have any European affiliation at all, aside from you, so you needn't worry about us bothering them." Peggy fully intended to incinerate the files the moment they weren't needed. Aside from vetting the brother she hadn't looked into Alice's connections in New York, once the SSR verified that they were neutral. She couldn't imagine going to work each day knowing that if she slipped up her family and friends might be put at risk. Not that she had a family anymore anyway, what with her brother dead and her mother disowning her.

"Well that's a relief," Alice said, though she did shoot Peggy another sour look.

"Unless you involve them somehow," Peggy warned gently.

"Don't worry, they don't know anything." A shadow crossed her face. "And I don't intend to tell them. It would only put them in danger."

"Smart choice," Peggy murmured. "But not an easy one, I imagine." She realized that she didn't know a lot about Alice's personal life – had made a choice not to, actually, to make training her all the easier. She supposed Alice wouldn't have much of a personal life, which was why this time in Brooklyn must be so precious. Peggy knew about the brother: half Austrian, half African American, in high school. She didn't know how close they were, but Peggy suspected that Alice had not come all the way across the ocean just for the SSR.

Peggy reflected, as she eyed Alice's somber face, that in another world or another time they could be friends. They were, in a way, but in the way that soldiers were friends. They didn't have the luxury of having fun together.

"How do you keep up close relationships, with all your secrets?" Alice asked, as if reading Peggy's mind.

She sighed. "I don't, really. Like you, I imagine, I haven't a lot of time for family or friends – what with my work. And I find I often struggle to find an equal." Her brow furrowed a moment, but then it cleared and resolute determination filled her chest again. "But. No use complaining about it, the war will end one way or another and then life shall go on."

Alice's eyes, so much older than she really was, rested on Peggy's face. "I hope you're right."


The next day was Saturday, and Bucky was back in Brooklyn to surprise his sister for her birthday. Alice remembered Becca from her childhood and couldn't quite believe the girl was turning fifteen. She wished she could celebrate with her.

But no one in Bucky's family knew that Alice was back, and it had to stay that way.

So she found herself in demolitions training with Peggy outside the city while Bucky and Steve attended Becca's party. She and Peggy spoke more often since the night of the alleyway fight – it turned out smashing in men's heads together was a great way to make friends. Alice chatted more with Peggy about her life before Vienna, in general terms, and even hinted at maybe having had some luck in the romance department recently. Peggy seemed more willing to laugh, and had Alice laughing in her turn with her rapier-fast wit. So blowing stuff up in a snow-laden field in the middle of February turned out to be lots of fun.

Once the black sedan car dropped Alice back at her hotel she quickly darted upstairs to get changed, then walked through the cooling air across Brooklyn to a bar she'd agreed to meet Steve and Bucky at after the party. She was early, so she took up a seat at the back (it took her a minute to realize she'd selected the best position to surveil the room from – she supposed all her training was working) and waited.

Steve arrived first, cheeks pink from the cold and the back of his coat collar stuck up at a haphazard angle. He was dressed nicely from the party, in his best shirt and pressed black trousers. He looked around with a furrow on his brow, but as soon as he spotted Alice at the far side of the bar the furrow cleared and that small smile lit up on his face. Alice's heart thudded.

"Bucky's a few minutes behind me," he explained as he slid onto the booth beside her. Their legs pressed against each other and Alice swooped in for a kiss he wasn't quite ready for – he blinked, slack mouthed, but then closed his eyes to return it. "Hi," he murmured against her mouth.

"Hi," she murmured back, fighting back a smile at how tentative he still remained even after a few weeks of… well, she supposed they could call it dating.

They ordered drinks and sat side by side in the booth as Steve recounted Becca's birthday party; apparently she was stepping out with a boy and Bucky had the sweats about it.

When the door to the bar next swung open, Alice knew it was Bucky; he had one of those presences that most people usually referred to as being the 'life of the party' or 'having a big personality'. To Alice it just meant Bucky.

He wasn't wearing his uniform, which made her secretly glad, but had clearly dressed up nicely for his little sister's birthday as well. His gaze swung across the room, landed on his two friends, and instantly a grin crossed his face.

And Alice thought: he knows. She didn't know how – she and Steve were sitting a few feet apart, just sitting and drinking really, but the glee in Bucky's eyes could not be mistaken.

He confirmed it a minute later by crowing across the room: "Finally!"

Alice scowled as he strode across the room toward them. Steve let out a sigh under his breath.

"I didn't tell him," Steve muttered. "I wanted to check with you first, but I guess…"

"He guessed," Alice finished.

Bucky dropped into the booth across from them, radiating residual cold from outside, and grinned at them. "About time, you two. When did this happen?" He gestured between them with a flap of his hand.

Alice was content to keep scowling, but then she felt Steve's warm hand cover hers on the table, and she glanced across at him in surprise to see him smile shyly. "Not long," he said to Bucky, but didn't take his eyes off her.

Unable to help herself, her scowl turned into a grin.

When she turned back to Bucky, his self-satisfied smirk had turned into his smaller, more genuine smile.

"Congratulations guys." He leaned back in his seat. "So go on, tell me all the gory details. Who confessed their deep and unabating love first?"

Alice's face fell into a scowl again, but that just made his smile widen. Alice didn't have to look to know that Steve was blushing again.

"Steve, then," Bucky surmised. He leaned forward again and propped his chin on his hand. "So Alice, how does it feel to be stepping out with the biggest brawler in Brooklyn of the last…" he counted on his hands, "ten consecutive years? Adds a little prestige, right?"

"I've never felt luckier," she deadpanned, though she squeezed Steve's hand to soften the joke.

Bucky's head swiveled to Steve. "And how's it feel to have snagged an internationally famous singer? We'll have to find you a nice suit for awards nights, I have a feeling you'll be attending lots of those-"

"Buck," Steve chided, but the smile he wore just goaded Bucky on.

Bucky teased them mercilessly for the rest of the night. Alice scowled and deflected his questions, but they'd always played this game in their friendship – she knew that Bucky's teases and jokes were his way of showing her how excited and happy he was. And he knew that she wasn't actually threatening to have his tongue surgically removed. She was saying thank you. Steve laughed at their barbs and joined in with his own, and the three of them drank their way through enough rounds to make the room spin a little.

When it was Steve's turn to buy he went up to the bar, trying not to stumble (he'd never had a very high alcohol tolerance), and after ordering propped his elbow on the counter and waited. A moment later Bucky appeared beside him, leaning against the bar with a broad grin on his face.

Steve rolled his eyes before facing his friend. "Go on, get it all out."

"Get what all out?" Bucky replied innocently. His eyes gleamed. "The fact that I get to say I told you so after what, almost ten years? My congratulations and shock that either of you were able to make a move? My commiserations that you happen to be head over heels about one of the most complicated-"

"I changed my mind," Steve sighed, "I'd rather you kept it all in."

Bucky laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "In all seriousness, pal, I'm happy for you both. It's about six years too late, but better late than never, right?"

Steve glanced across the now bustling bar to where Alice sat by herself tracing a finger through the condensation on the wooden table, and his face went warm. He'd at least gotten past the stage of pinching himself to make sure it was all real.

"Gross," Bucky said fondly after a moment of watching Steve watch Alice. His tone dropped. "I know it ain't my place to ask, but… has she said anything more about Austria? Why she won't tell anyone here she's back? Is she…?" He trailed off with a furrowed brow.

"No, she hasn't said anything. She mentions Austria occasionally, but it's usually to compare the seasons or talk about how the food is different." He shrugs. "I suppose I haven't asked, either."

"Should you?"

Steve shook his head. "She won't tell me anything even if I do ask, I know she won't."

"Steve…"

He sighed. "Buck, I know it kills you not knowing, and trust me it does me too. But Alice… whatever secrets she's got, I know she can take care of them. You can't push her."

"Well I know that. Did she tell you she threatened to hamstring me when she first arrived?"

"Did you deserve it?"

"Well… yeah, I s'pose." Bucky shrugged, laughed, and the mood lightened. The bartender slid their drinks across the counter and the two friends carried them back to the booth.

Alice looked up with a wry smile. "Are you both done talking about me?"

"I can keep going if you like," Bucky offered. He took a sip of his beer as he sat down. "I'll start by saying that I think your coat looks weird."

Steve spluttered his drink as Alice looked down at her tartan coat and arched an eyebrow. "Like you know the first thing about fashion, Barnes. Are you wearing brown brogues with those trousers? What an atrocity."

Bucky grinned and looked fit to return fire, but Steve interrupted by hoisting his beer into the air between them.

"To Alice!" he toasted.

"To Alice," Bucky joined in good naturedly, and Alice beamed at them.

She raised her glass. "To Brooklyn, and beer, and to both of you." She nudged Steve. "But especially you."

Steve's ears went red and his face softened, but Bucky slapped a hand to his chest like he'd been struck with an arrow.

"I see how it's going to be now," he exclaimed dramatically, "you two, off in your white house with a picket fence-"

"There's no picket fences in Brooklyn-" Steve interrupted with a laugh, but Bucky wasn't done.

"- while I'm out in the cold, friendless, abandoned-"

"Yes, you're clearly terrible at making friends," Alice shot back, nodding to where the woman Bucky had chatted up at the bar earlier was looking across the room at him with warmth.

"Huh," Bucky looked over his shoulder. "Speaking of abandonment…" He slid out of the booth and pushed to his feet with his drink in his hand. He turned, paused to shoot Steve and Alice a thumbs up, and then walked across the bar to the now beaming woman.

Alice laughed into Steve's shoulder. When she looked up she found him looking fondly down at her.

"Never thought we'd get this," he murmured.

Alice felt a twist of affection and pain in her chest but she pushed it down. "Neither did I." She leaned further into him, sharing his warmth, and slid her hand into his. "Let's enjoy it."


Excerpt from Smithsonian Museum Newsletter article "Re-evaluating items brought out of storage: the 'JBB Box'", Billy Hennes (1983)

These items have been in Smithsonian custody since they were donated decades ago by the Barnes family: a box of mementos, certificates, letters, and keepsakes that James Buchanan Barnes himself put into storage before leaving for the war in Europe. However at the time of donation the museum was unable to process the box and put its items on display due to budget cuts and some confidentiality issues regarding SSR archival files being withheld, and so the box lived on in storage. But now historians at the museum can bring these items out for the public, to shed some light on the only Howling Commando (save for Captain Rogers) who gave his life in service.

... includes a note addressed to Barnes, a noted ladies-man of Brooklyn, undated but likely from his military training period as it references him 'returning to camp' soon. The note's tone is teasing, familiar, which at first suggested it came from a family member, but the note is signed 'A'. None of his family members have this initial. Perhaps this is evidence that Barnes had had some longer relationships than previously thought. Perhaps this was a sweetheart who grieved him long after his fatal fall in the war.


Bucky didn't end up going home with the woman from the bar, but he did get her number. Steve went to the bathroom before the walk home so Bucky gloated to Alice as they stood in the snow outside the bar, waving the napkin with the woman's number on it.

Alice didn't hide her smile this time. She'd noticed a seriousness hiding behind Bucky's smiles that hadn't been there before; he talked a lot about his training but not about what was coming his way: orders to ship overseas. In many ways she understood the looming fear of war hanging over him.

His easy laughter and glee now reminded Alice of the carefree Bucky she'd known in her childhood. She didn't begrudge him that.

Some of her thoughts must have shown in her face, because the teasing glint slid off Bucky's face. He stuck his hands in his pockets.

"I meant what I said, Alice. I really am happy for you."

Her face softened. "I know, Bucky. Thank you. It's… not anything I ever expected, but it's… it's nice."

He smiled. "You both deserve it." A moment later he swooped in to hug her tightly, near lifting her off her feet with the strength of it. Alice held him back but this felt like more than a hug – it was Bucky trying to keep her here. As if he could sense something coming.

"You're safe here, Alice. Both of you. Steve's an idiot and he'll keep trying to enlist but I hope to god they won't send him over. He'll need… he'll need you here with him. And you need him, too."

She felt glad he'd hugged her to say this, so she didn't have to see the earnestness in his eyes. She pressed her palms against his back, and didn't say anything. She desperately wanted to but she knew that if she spoke now she would cry. Cold wind blew against her face.

Eventually Bucky pulled back, dusted her down, and stepped away. The bar door swung open to reveal Steve, and he quirked a brow at them.

"I oughta head back home, see if I can't find out more about this fella of Becca's," Bucky said. "You two get home safe, alright? No detours to fight."

"No promises," Steve replied wryly.

Just before Bucky turned to leave, Alice shot him a small salute. He hesitated, eyes going serious, before saluting in reply. A moment later he was just a silhouette in the darkness.

Alice looped her arm through Steve's. "Walk me back to the hotel?"

He leaned in close. "Of course."

(They both ended up disobeying Bucky's instruction not to fight when they spotted a grown man shove a newsboy into a drift of snow, but they agreed that it was worth it and promised to never tell Bucky).


Originally this chapter and the next were going to be one long mega chapter, but I decided to split them up for ~suspense~. Next chapter, Peggy brings her trust in Alice to a new level. Thoughts? Ideas?


Reviews

jul (from chapter 18): Hello! Yes, Peggy is finally here and kicking ass and Alice has returned to Brooklyn. I'm glad you enjoy the interviews/articles from the "future", I have a lot of fun coming up with them! This story will definitely make you cry more, just prepare yourself. Good luck with your papers!

Jul (chapter 19): They're finally together! I awwwed at you wanting little Steve to stick around, I'm quite fond of him as well. But he must get his Super Juice soon. The only thing I don't like about The Women Who Lived For Danger is the title, actually! It's really well researched and interesting, I just think the title is dumb because they weren't like, adrenaline junkies, they just wanted to help out how they could. That airforce service pilots book sounds super interesting though. Thank you lovely!
PS: I can't reply to your reviews on The Wyvern but I'm so glad you're enjoying it and I'm loving your reviews :)

The1975Love: Hello, I'm glad you're still enjoying it! This section is all about relationships so perfectly on time for Valentine's. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

TwoJacksAndAnAce: To be fair all of this isn't off the top of my head, I don't know this much about WWII on a daily basis! It's a lot of Wikipedia searching, to be honest. Thank you so much for your kind review, I'm really glad you're enjoying this story. I needed a smile :)

Guest (from chapter 1): Wow what an intense reaction! Hope you're enjoying haha.

Guest: Wow, thank you so much! I really appreciate your kind review, I'm so glad you're enjoying this story and I hope you had a great week. Thanks again :)