Chapter 3

With the war effort continuing to grow heated the graduated squadrons and most of the senior officers as well as Annie and Peggy were shipped off to an allied Italian base about 5 miles from the front. The hastily built base now swarmed with more American troops and military personal than European. But the European allies seemed to tolerate the brash bustling Americans for the added security and manpower they brought.

The base was much the same as the New Jersey one she had grown used to. Large log walls circled the based, fortifying it from the more war exposed area of Europe. The grass run down to dirt with the constant movement of feet around the base. Large sets of khaki canvas tents thrown up quickly, completely practical spaces with no room for flash or pleasantries. Everyone purposely trodding around, always with something to do or somewhere to be.

She still shared a tent with Peggy as well as a few other women, thanks to the limited amount of women's tents. With the absence of Steve and Bucky Annie attached herself to Peggy to fend of worry and loneliness. This had made the two much closer over the past 2 months, maybe a bit more than the busy Brit would have liked. But Peggy had come to adore both the Rogers.

Just like she predicted the first day the two women meet, Annie was just as stubborn and determined as her brother. But Annie had a bright intellect and wit to her that made her Peggy's favourite conversational companion. Annie had saved her from many lonely nights on the male riddled base.

"Peggy!" Annie shouted.

Quick eyes located the curved form of Annie Rogers heading in her direction. "How was your meeting?" Peggy questioned trying to put off her terrible news for a few moments more.

Annie's full brows bent in a joking look, "If you are talking about the strategy meeting for the 107th it was UN-eventful."

Peggy gave Annie a sad look. "You worked on it all night didn't you?" Peggy more stated than questioned, familiar Annie's habit of obsessing over tactics when it came to Bucky's inventory. She had never met the man, but he was the only person Annie ever talked about beside Steve.

Annie's clouded eyes and the dark smudges that formed underneath answered when Annie didn't. Ever-present signals of Annie's worry for her dear childhood friend (though Peggy suspected there was more there) made her news all the more painful to articulate.

With a heavy exhale, Peggy began softly, "Annie, I just received news from the Colonel."

Annie gave a clueless tilt of her head as Peggy paused. "Annie… the 107th was ambushed and they are missing in action."

Annie felt as if she had physically been shot in the heart. Terror crawling into the hole and shaking up her insides. Her mind flashed with images of Bucky laying still. Gone was his lovable smirk or the softness in his eyes on his lifeless face. Red filled her vision, red pooling around the body of her dear friend.

As if tormenting her, the thought slipped into her chaotic swell of panic that Bucky might not be dead but the prisoner of HYDRA. They had been close to HYDRA territory. The horrible stories she had heard about HYDRA prisoners of war flicked through her mind on repeat. She squeezed her eyes shut begging for the possibilities of the torture that could occur within those dark walls to go away. Annie knew that wasn't any use.

No. She wasn't just going to lose Bucky.

Annie immediately marched to Colonel Phillips' tent. "Annie? Wh- no" Peggy scrambled behind her.

Annie abruptly spin around to meet Peggy. "I need to at least try," She begged. Peggy opened her mouth to talk some sense into her but Annie pleaded, "If there is any chance he's alive."

"Colonel!" Annie shouted as she marched through the tent flap. The aging man. Looked up from some papers a secretary was holding out for him. He instantly sighed at the sight of Annie with an uncompromising look in her eyes and pressed lips. He knew she was about to be a pain in the arse.

"Alright you can go," Phillips waved away the clerical young woman. She noted awkwardly flicking her eyes between the frowning Colonel, the concerned Peggy Carter and the tactical strategist as the woman made her way out.

"So, I'm guessing you heard the news of the 107th squadron?" Phillips groaned tiredly. "We didn't realised Schmidt was coordinating an attack at Azzano until our men were already under fire. We won't be needing your updated plans for the squadron." Phillips informed with a stern look. He knew she was going to fight them on this. He had noticed the special interest this strategist had taken to the 107th and from it she had managed some stellar tactical maneuvers. But no one could have seen an attack of that force from HYDRA when intel on the rogue group was so hard to come by. But that wasn't going to stop her from taking the blame on herself.

Annie matched Phillips with an unyielding stare, her expression surprisingly severe, "How many were captured?"

"Only 50 men returned".

"Out of the 200 men, how many do we know were captured?" Annie repeated, her tone showing no signs of leaving without her answer.

Phillips turned away and strode to his desk, glimpsing some papers littered on top. "About 40 men."

"I request to be involved in the rescue effort," Annie instantly responds as a small flicker of hope ignites at the news of confirmed survivors.

"There is no rescue effort. They were taken to the Krausberg HYDRA base almost week ago. We can't even confirm if any are still alive. You should know the death toll of trying that kind of mission," Colonel Phillips scoffed pointedly. "I'm sorry about whoever you're hoping to save but the only thing we can do is focus on winning this war."

"Annie," Peggy gently tried to pull her away.

But Annie pushed away, her eyes wild and desperate as she marched closer to Phillips, "We've all heard the stories of what HYDRA does with prisoners. If we wait any longer, those men will be dead. A-A small extraction team could–"

"There's no-" the Colonel tried to overrule. But Annie wouldn't yield.

"HYDRA won't expect them, an-and based on previous knowledge of HYD-"

"I WILL NOT RISK THE LIVES OF MY MEN TO SAVE YOUR SWEETHEART ROGERS!" Colonel Phillips bellowed down at her. His authoritative yell drowning her protests and scrambled plans.

"I am your superior officer. I vouched for you because of your promising academic career but if you can't handle the tough calls and sacrifices of this war, I will not hesitant to suspend your service. Now get out of my office and get your head straight. I want you ready for the 89th squadron revision meeting at 1400 tomorrow."

It hurt.

How could it hurt this much?

The helplessness to stop the terrible fate of an old friend shouldn't have resolved her to a small, shaking child within seconds. To have her world become completely unstable and wrong. Annie never considered herself weak, stood up her herself and others but then again, she had never been without Steve or Bucky.

She didn't feel Peggy pull her out of the tent or her rubbing her shoulders in comfort. All Annie felt was lost. This wasn't a situation that could be fixed by Steve's determination, Bucky's charm or her wit.

Remembering the presence of her friend before her Annie steeled her expression attempting to hide her brokenness from one of the smartest women she knew. What a stupid thing to try. But trying at least helped her keep it together a little.

"Annie, do you need anything?" Peggy offered her comfort in an empathetic voice. Annie knew Peggy was pretty inexperienced in comforting people but she was understanding and highly empathic. This made her one of the few voices Annie truly valued besides Bucky's and Steve's. But on this occasion, she just wanted to stare at nothing and attempt to suppress the ache in her clenching chest that didn't seem to go away.

Annie somehow smiles shrugging her slender shoulders, "Thanks Peggy but I need to just…just sort myself out."

Peggy nodded, "Take all the time you need. But um Steve is scheduled to travel here for a show in 2 days. I think you should see him before he leaves."

A small softness furled in Annie's chest at the thought of the comforting presence of her brother. There was no foolish hope that he would make it all better but maybe she wouldn't feel as alone in her loss.

But she would have to tell him.

Bucky sat in his dark round cell. It was filled overcapacity but Bucky tuned them out, completely isolated as he sat with his knees bent in front of him. If he were taking note of the situation, he would have noticed the numbing pain on his rear from the long periods of time spent on the unkind metal floor. He would have noticed the worried chattering of the men or the foul smell that pressed down on the space signalling a lack of sanitation. But Bucky didn't notice any of it. After nearly a week in that cramped cell all Bucky had noticed was a small piece of blue fabric that lay in his hands as his arms rested carelessly on his knees.

His eyes stared at the item, consumed by it. It was insignificant to most but precious to him.

Bucky could feel Annie's handkerchief burning through his pocket and warming the skin underneath as he and the 107th trudged through a dense pine forest. His gun held ready but his mind dazed, dreaming of home.

The deafening noise of automatic gun fire exploded through the space. The enemy hidden in the darkness of the wood. Adrenaline flicked his mind to the present as he dove behind a thick tree trunk for cover. Raising his gun Bucky twisted out around the protection of the trunk to aim at the approaching dark soldiers. Bucky pulled the trigger sending one of the helmeted figures crumpling to the pine littered ground. Bucky did not feel joy or power but desperate, desperate enough to kill another for his own life. Human instinct he told him when firing a spray of bullets at another faceless German soldier.

Surveying the area more of the 107th were lifeless bodies crumpled along the forest floor than there were still up and fighting. The Nazi's working their way around the inventory ensure their capture. Bucky felt his stomach sink as he noticed the tentacled skull clipped to their uniform, HYDRA.

His tan finger softly brushed over the clearly sewn BB. Insanity slowly crept in past his lowered defences as he reminisced the amount of times that Annie had mended his ripped pants or patched up hole infested shirts. He supposed all the practise was the reason she had become quite good at stitching.

Annie. His thoughts always came back to her. Of course, Bucky missed Steve and it pierced him that he would never see that punk's face again but the thought of never seeing Annie again turned the piercing into a twisting, wrenching kind of torment. His chest taking just about as much pain as it could bare knowing that he would never see her again. Never witness anymore of her many types of smiles. All of them he adored, even her victorious one when he had defeated him in a teasing match or embarrassed him in front of his date. His favourite was the small, hardly noticeable smile she had that he was only able to witness from the corner of his vision. The one that lasted only a few moments in which she was somehow completely content, nervous, in control but anticipant for something. Something only she knew.

Over the week he had many, many hours to frustrate and pain himself over what he would never again have. He had thought of the future, of Steve enjoying his life as the only bachelor in New York but more likely dreading it. Bucky knew that if anyone in the world could not get a date in that situation, it was mostly likely Steve.

Though after the war Annie would likely have too many dates to count. She would find a nice guy who was as attractive as she was, which Bucky hoped might take a while, then settle down and start a family as he always knew she would. He tortured himself by thinking this, trying to be happy for her but the stabbing pain in his chest only deepened.

The pain forced him to confront what he had continually tried to suppress until he became ignorant to its existence. But Bucky supposed that if he was going to die, he was sure he would with men being regularly taken away never to return, he would be honest.

In his honesty he admitted he had hoped that that man he pictured marrying and settling down with Annie would have been him. He had hoped it, secretly begged for it but feared her rejection too furiously. Many times he blamed some code he magically had with Steve, some made-up, implied rule forbidding him from her. But in this cell awaiting death Bucky knew, unhindered that he loved Annie. He had loved her for more years than he could remember. He felt pain every time a man pursued her, hoped every time she drew close, savoured every moment he spent in her presence. He had her every detail memorised and hoarded in the safest location his mind had.

But he witnessed a pain, a deep churning regret knowing that he realised this too late. He discovered the key to his happiness only when it was out of his reach. Bucky had to live in the short amount of time that he had never telling Annie how he felt, he didn't need her answer, all he wanted for her to know how he felt, how much she was truly cherished.

This handkerchief steadily pulsed agony through his veins but he still held onto it, never intending to release it.