Here's chapter 28, hope ya'll enoy it!

August 17th, 1946: Brooklyn

Bucky slowly returned to consciousness. Blinking quickly, he analyzed his surroundings: he was lying on a couch, with DumDum to his right and Pinky to his left. Clearing the hazy mist, his eyes zeroed in on the fireplace and the pictures on the mantel. "He's still alive," were the first words out of Bucky's mouth.

"That's right, Buck," Dum Dum agreed cautiously, "Cap's still alive."

Bucky's brow furrowed. Of course, Steve was still alive. Hadn't the serum made it so Steve couldn't die? The blond RAF man was still alive too, not just Steve.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Before anyone could react, the stiff upper crust driver opened it. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Mrs. Carter just telephoned to say she's heading back," Mrs. Francitelli stage-whispered through the crack in the door

"Once she gets here, we'll get Bucky back to the hospital," DumDum spoke from the chair he was sitting in.

"Take as long as you need," Mrs. Francitelli returned quickly as a police officer walked up behind her.

"We'll need to interview everyone who was in the building when the gun went off," the police officer ordered without formality. There was a pregnant pause as Mrs. Francitelli glanced into the Carter apartment.

"Of course," Mrs. Franitelli returned calmly. "I was downstairs and heard a terrible ruckus coming from the third floor; I phoned the police before the gun went off."

"What compelled you to be proactive? Did you see the assailant with a firearm?" the detective inquired point-blank as his pen raced over his miniature notepad.

"The Olivier's are months behind on rent," Mrs. Francitelli explained, trying not to sound panicked, "and Mrs. Olivier's parents came to visit. I heard a commotion and then what sounded like fisticuffs. Before I could ask for further details, Mrs. Oliver's parents packed a few bags and bundled her into their car." She threw her hands in the air. "They were down past 110 and 60th by the time I heard the first shot."

The detective's pen paused. "That still doesn't explain why you made the call before you heard the shot."

Mrs. Francitelli laid her hand over her bosom. "Mr. Oliver has a history of slapping his wife around, but this time something was different. I only telephoned because I was afraid Mr. Olivier would turn violent."

The detective weighed the statement with a nod. "I'll need a list of every tennant who resides in this building."

"The Carters live here," Mrs. Francitelli said. "Mr. Carter is in the Army; I think he's out of the country right now. I haven't seen him for several days."

"What about him?" The detective gestured toward Bucky.

"James suffers from shell shock," Dum Dum supplied quickly to stauch anything Mrs. Francatelli could inject. "He's been in the hospital since he got back from Germany. We were going to have lunch here, when the event occurred. The shots from upstairs didn't help his condition."

"Did you see anything?"

"We never left the room after the first shot. In fact . . ." Dum Dum added ". . . his doctor is enroute as we speak."

The detective nodded and looked at Bucky. As if on cue, Doctor Johnson brushed through the open door and to the couch. "We need to get him back to the hospital," he ordered in a no nonsense tone.

"I'll need everyone's statements..." the detective spoke from the doorway. Doctor Johnson turned, one eyebrow raised.

"Does it look like he's able to give a statement!?"

The corner of the detective's mouth twitched as he took in the room's occupants, "...everyone else then," he acquiesced as Doctor Johnson turned back to Bucky.

Wrapping his arm around Bucky's bicep, Doctor Johnson planted his feet firmly as he helped his patient to his feet. "I've got a car out front, Sergeant. Let's go."

Bucky nodded and quietly got up. He and Peggy shared a look, and Peggy forced a smile. "Once I've finished up with the detective, I'll come back to hospital to check on you, all right?"

Bucky nodded. "Sure, Peg."

Once Bucky and Doctor Johnson departed the area, Peggy turned to the detective. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"The landlady said your husband is out of town?" The detective started with an open-ended question.

"Yes," Peggy replied coolly. "Of course, I'll be happy to get you his commanding officer's information. Colonel Phillips will confirm my husband's whereabouts."

"Good," The detective said. Peggy quickly wrote down the information the detective would need to contact Colonel Phillips on Monday.

"I believe he's on weekend leave, so you might not be able to speak to him until Monday," Peggy warned.

The detective took the paper and folded it twice, before slipping it into the breast pocket of his overcoat. "Mrs. Carter, I have a few more questions . . ."

After another hour of questions, Peggy was released to go back to the hospital. Sneaking a peek out of the window, she held her breath until the detective's sedan pulled away from the curb and sped down the road. Quickly, she dashed to pack a quick bag of clothes and toiletries for Steve.

As she hurried down the staircase, she ran into Mrs. Franactelli in the hall. "Are you delivering some clothes to your friend?

"I'm taking these to the hospital," Peggy told a half-truth without explaining further.

"Here." Mrs. Francatelli held out a knitted blanket. "For your friend."

Peggy nodded and took it. "I'll make sure he gets it."

Underneath the top fold, Peggy could feel a note. Once she and Jarvis got into the car, she pulled the paper out and read it.

If I'd known Mr. O had a gun, I wouldn't have called the police, the note read "I won't tell the police who Mr. C is."

Peggy's heart skipped a beat. Mrs. Francatelli knew? She took in a shaky breath. Reading the note again, it was apparent Mrs. Francatelli had known for a while. But how When? Shaking her head in disbelief, she decided she would ask Mrs. Francatelli questions later. First, she needed to concentrate on Steve and Bucky.

Three hours later, Peggy stepped out of Steve's hospital room. "He's fallen asleep," she informed quietly as Phillips and Doctor Johnson walked past.

"Since the Captain is here unofficially, we may need to move him home earlier than I'd like. It depends on how quickly the higher-ups notice the plasma and Thorazine disappearing," Doctor Johnson said. "He'll need constant care for the next few weeks. Even with his healing ability, he was shot three times and needed to have his spleen removed."

Peggy bit her lip, nervously. Should they ask Mrs. Francitelli for help to look after Steve? Would Peggy have to stay home? But then she might lose her job.

"I'll figure something out with Dooley so you can take a few weeks off to care for Rogers," Phillips offered, reading her mind. "I'll make sure you don't lose your job, Carter."

"Thank you, Colonel," Peggy said, relieved she would be able to care for her husband.

"Colonel? Bucky's insisting on talking to you," Dum Dum poked his head out of Bucky's room. "Says it's important."

Phillips sighed heavily. "What do you need, Sergeant?" Phillips asked after walking into the room.

Bucky looked at Phillips steadily, he looked much better than he had when he'd arrived back to the ward. "Have you been to Steve and Peggy's apartment before?" Bucky asked.

"Several times," Phillips answered calmly. "Why?"

"The pictures on the mantel. . . " Bucky wondered aloud ". . . why is there a picture of that man in Steve's apartment?"

"Buck, what are you talking about?" Dum Dum asked. "What man?"

"The RAF man, the picture on the mantel." Bucky insisted.

"That's Carter's brother," Phillips realized from the description. "He died in 1940."

"No, he didn't," Bucky insisted. "I recognized him. He was at the Hydra base in Germany."

There was a long pause. Colonel Phillips knew that Sergeant Barnes was a smart man. You had to be intelligent to be a sniper, and Barnes had been one of the Army's best. If Rogers hadn't picked him as part of the Howling Commandos, Phillps would have pulled rank to get Barnes in.

Doctor Johnson said Barnes had memory and emotional issues. Although he had very little medical knowledge, Colonel Phillips was sure the memory issues weren't as bad as Doctor Johnson made them out to be. Phillips felt that part of Barnes's issues came from the shame of having been a POW more than once. That had to take a toll on a man's self-esteem and pride. So, if Barnes said Captain Micheal Carter was alive and with Hydra, then Micheal Carter was alive and with Hydra. But the only reason Micheal Carter would be uninjured was if he was working with HYDRA.

The full weight of what Sergeant Barnes was saying hung in the air. Did Carter know about her brother? Was she secretly HYDRA? Phillips pushed the thoughts away as soon as they came, he would have figured it out by now. She was a good spy, but she wasn't that good.

Well, he wasn't going to tell the female Carter, or Rogers anytime soon. Besides the fact that Rogers was injured, he knew the married couple would go off half-cocked without a plan. He paused for a moment and corrected himself. It was her brother, so Carter would go off, half-cocked without a plan, and Rogers would follow her to the ends of the earth without a thought. Seemingly, Rogers had already ripped time apart for the woman. Traipsing off to another continent while recovering from three gunshot wounds and an emergency spleen removal was well within the realm of possibilities.

"I believe you, Sergeant, but to do anything about it, we're going to need more proof than just your say so," Phillips stated. Barnes nodded in agreement, "I'll look into this and see what we can find. I know I'm not your commanding officer anymore, but I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else. And Dugan, I'm giving you an order to keep quiet."

"Not a problem," Dugan said.

He'd tell the pair . . . eventually. Either way, Phillips was relieved that there would be some time to figure out what was going on before telling Rogers and Carter.

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