70.
London, United Kingdom
February 27th, 1945
The search ship pulls back into the London docks along the Thames River for only one night, allowing the boat to be refuelled and restocked, and the crew to gather a new suitcase worth of clothes and possessions before embarking on a second voyage. After finding the Tesseract, all of them have a renewed sense of hope and are determined to continue searching. The Valkyrie can't be that far from where they'd found the Tesseract.
Howard and Isabel take the Tesseract in a containment vessel back to the SSR base in London, storing it safely in the vaults of Howard's laboratories. The only people who have the code for the vault are Colonel Phillips and Peggy Carter, along with Howard himself. They can only hope that, hauled up in the safe, the Tesseract cannot be touched and cannot be used ever again.
Truthfully, Isabel wonders whether they should've left it in the ocean. She voices this to Howard later that night as they eat in the mess hall.
"If we can come up with a monitor for measuring Tesseract energy signature, Hydra can. If we leave it in the ocean, we risk them getting their hands on it again," Howard says through a mouthful of dry chicken breast.
Isabel resigns to this fact, seeing the logic, and just hopes that there isn't another undercover Hydra agent posing as a cleaner who could infiltrate the base and take the Tesseract as they had with Howard's blueprints.
They spend that night in their respective rooms in the hotel above the SSR base. Isabel comes upstairs to find Peggy getting ready to have an early night, sitting at the vanity in front of the mirror and brushing through her thick brunette curls. As Isabel enters, Peggy looks up curiously, and her face breaks into a wide smile.
"Isabel! I didn't know you were back," Peggy cries, standing and coming toward her friend for a hug, her dressing down billowing out behind her.
"Only for tonight," Isabel says a little sadly, accepting Peggy's hug. "I missed you, Peg."
"Oh, I missed you too, love," Peggy promises, pulling away.
"What's life been like while I've been gone?" Isabel asks, walking over and dropping her heavy suitcase on her bed. She unclips the latches and opens it, revealing a case full of worn clothes that she throws out onto the bed.
"The usual," Peggy says, putting her brush down. "Still trying to win the war. Tracking down any fragments left of Hydra."
"And are there any?"
"We aren't entirely sure yet. There are likely a few branches remaining, but whether they're strong enough to continue on their own is another question."
"Well, I'm sure you'll get them," Isabel reassures with a small smile.
Peggy takes a seat on the end of Isabel's bed, watching her sort through the clothes and chuck the dirty ones in a bag to take down to the laundry rooms to repack tomorrow. "Tell me, what was it like on the ship?"
"It was rather boring," Isabel admits. "Most of the time we were just sailing through open waters and there wasn't even anything to look at. We got to the ice fields and waters around where we thought the plane would be, and then Howard just started searching each grid point. We found nothing for days, not even a trace of energy, until suddenly Howard saw something on the monitor. We headed toward it, and, well… We found the Tesseract."
"You did?"
"At the bottom of the ocean," Isabel agrees. "We came back to bring it to the vaults for safe-keeping and to refuel the ship. We're heading back out tomorrow morning."
"Oh, so soon?" Peggy asks, a hint of hurt in her voice.
"The sooner we get out there, the sooner we find the plane, the more chance we have," Isabel says solemnly, as though she were reading it from the back of a cereal box.
Peggy sighs. She grabs Isabel's arm and tugs her down, making Isabel sit beside her. "I know Stark already gave you the spill, but are you sure you should be going?"
Isabel sighs again, rubbing her eyes. She looks exhausted, as though she hasn't slept in weeks. "I feel like I'm not doing anything by going out," she admits. "I can't do anything except just wait. I feel helpless. I could probably do more here but…" Isabel trails off without finishing.
"We all feel a little that way sometimes, don't we? Say, do you remember – that night that you went to the Stork Club – do you remember what you told me?"
Isabel frowns in confusion, thinking. "No," she admits. "After a while it all becomes a blur, and then I just woke up in my bed."
Peggy nods. "As I suspected. You haven't had any… worrying thoughts, have you?"
Isabel pauses. "What exactly did I say that night?"
Peggy hesitates, wondering whether she should tell her friend. Though, she supposes, Isabel has a right to know what she said, even if she truly hadn't meant it. "You said you were drinking to forget, and that you wouldn't mind if you died because it would be easier. That you didn't see the point of living anymore when all of your reasons were gone. That you didn't know how to deal with it."
Isabel looks heartbroken, but not overly surprised. By her expression, Peggy guesses that at least part of that is how she still feels. "And what did you say?" She asks, her voice small.
"That it would get better and you'd be able to heal with time."
"I do drink to forget. Even on the ship," Isabel eventually admits, her voice small and wavering. "I still don't know how to deal with it all. I think that's going to take a long time to come to terms with, but as Howard said, one day I'll be able to relive it all through my memories and it'll just be like they were still here."
"It's been two weeks, give or take. No one expects you to be okay overnight. It will get better, even if right now it seems like there's no hope," Peggy agrees, tossing an arm over Isabel's shoulders and holding her close.
Isabel's eyes tear up, sliding lazily down her cheeks. "I don't want to die, Peg. I want to live," she decides suddenly. "That's what they would have wanted, so I will. I'll live for them, if not for myself. It's the least I can do for them."
"They would've wanted that. They would've wanted you to be happy and experience the world, do everything you always wanted. They would've wanted that whether they were there or not."
"I just need to get through this stage, get through the hard yards. Once it gets better, I'll be able to live again."
The next morning, bright and early, Isabel catches a taxi down to the docks to re-board the ship. The drive is short to the edge of the Thames, and when the driver pulls up to the edge of the road, she hands him enough money to cover the fare. He jumps out and removes her suitcase from the boot for her, handing it to her.
"Are you sure you'll be alright with that, miss?" The man asks, watching with worry as she struggles to get a good hold on the heavy case.
"I'm fine," Isabel promises with a smile, already slightly breathless, and heads down the ramp to the wooden jetty of the docks.
The docks are crowded with workers going about their usual work, as well as men loading and unloading ships with materials for the war effort. Isabel passes them all without a second glance, lugging her heavy suitcase at her side, breaking a sweat despite the awful chill in the air.
At the end of the boardwalk she spots the familiar ship that Howard's been using for their search party, and Howard himself is on board already, standing at the front of the ship with the ships' captain and going over the map with him. Howard looks up, presumably for her, and waves when he sees her struggling down the dock. Isabel risks letting one hand free to wave back.
Howard excuses himself from the captain's presence and walks to the ramp, heading down to greet her. He looks up just in time to see one of the docks men hurry off his own boat and mow straight into Isabel, knocking into her. She stumbles, able to keep her balance, but she drops her suitcase to the ground and the latches snap, everything falling out onto the wet boardwalk.
"Sorry, miss!" The man hurries to apologise, scrambling to try to help her pick up her clothes as they scatter everywhere, getting soaked when she'd been up half the night getting them dry to bring along for their next excursion.
Howard runs toward them, skidding to a stop and knocking the man out the way. "Why don't you watch where you're going?" Howard hisses, shoving Isabel's things in for her and shutting up the suitcase, taking it himself. "You nearly knocked over the lady."
"It's okay," Isabel reassures. "He already apologised, it's fine," she tells Howard. The man backs away, looking apologetic. "What was that for?" Isabel asks Howard, watching the man hurry away from them and Howard's wrath.
"Someone's gotta stick up for you," Howard says easily.
"I don't need anyone to stick up for me," Isabel argues, snatching back her suitcase from Howard. "And I can carry this myself."
"You don't have to do everything by yourself," Howard argues back, taking the suitcase from her grasp again. "You have people who want to help you and who'll stick up for you. Why don't you let them?"
Isabel gets the feeling Howard isn't just talking about the suitcase. "I've spent my whole life letting people stick up for me. What's wrong with me doing something for myself for once?" Isabel asks.
"Because, now the people who always stood up for you are gone," Howard says easily. He is referring, of course, to the loss of Steve and Bucky, the two who have always stuck up for her no matter what; Bucky since the day she was born and he became a big brother, and Steve pretty much since the day they met, and because he stuck up for everyone he was friends with.
Isabel physically flinches when Howard says that, but she recovers quickly. "Yeah, they're gone. So, now I need to take what they taught me and help myself."
"But are you really doing that?"
And suddenly they aren't talking about a suitcase anymore, and they both know it.
"I talked to you, didn't I?" Isabel sneers. "I talked to Peggy. I let Peggy and Falsworth help me that night I drank myself into oblivion. I'm helping with the search party. What else do you want me to do, Howard?" Isabel asks, getting angry.
Howard sighs, backing off slightly from his accusatory tone. "You need the time to mourn."
"I already mourned," Isabel argues. "What should I do? Wear black the rest of my life?"
"It's been two damn weeks, Barnes. Two weeks since you lost Steve, and a month since you lost Bucky. You aren't being fair to yourself. You aren't giving yourself time. You're coming out here trying to do things that you aren't ready for; and you aren't doing it for you, you're doing it for them, and for Peggy. You aren't letting yourself accept what's happened because you aren't even really addressing it, aren't letting yourself have the time to process it." Howard pauses, frowning at his friend, who's face is set in her own determined, stubborn frown. "What are you doing here, Isabel?"
"What the hell do you mean? I'm coming with you again," Isabel growls, looking frustrated. "I'm coming to find him."
Howard takes a deep breath to try to calm down. Everyone on the dock is staring at them. "I think you should stay here in London a while. Take some time to yourself, take a break?"
"A break from what? I haven't done jack shit. What's going on with you? What are you going on about?" She asks in a flurry.
Isabel moves to board the boat then, trying to step up onto the ramp. Howard puts a hand on her arm to stop her.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking the last few days. You aren't coming this time, Isabel. I let you the first time, but that was a mistake. It's too much for you, and when we don't find anything at all, when we just keep moving to the next grid point, it isn't keeping you stimulated. All you can think of is what's happened without processing it at all. It's leaving you locked in this constant state of denial that we'll find him alive, and that isn't reasonable. I think you need to stay here and sort everything out, allow yourself to mourn and accept and move on."
"Don't be stupid. I'm coming to find him," Isabel argues, trying to move past Stark again. She manages, walking up the ramp, leaving Howard on the deck holding her wet suitcase.
"Barnes, please," Howard pleads, and his tone makes Isabel pause and turn back. "Let me do this. For you and for Steve. Let me find him. I will find him, and I will bring him home to you. I know you said you want to bring him home yourself, but I am giving you my word that I will bring him back to you. I'll never stop looking. There are things a person should never have to see, and you've seen too much of it. You need to stay here, with your friends, and keep yourself sane."
Isabel sighs. Howard puts her suitcase down. "What am I supposed to do? What are you saying I should do?" She asks, her voice quivering. She looks to Howard for guidance, looking utterly and entirely lost.
"There's a ceremony on in a few days for Steve. The whole of London will be there, and the whole world will hear it. You should be there with the other Commandos and with Peggy." Isabel gulps. She knows about the ceremony, and as much as she wants to honour Steve, she was hoping to be on the ship to purposely avoid it. She doesn't know if she can do it. And be there with all those people who are mourning Captain America, not Steve.
"That's for Captain America."
"So you make it about Steve," Howard punctuates. "And when that's over, go home to your family and be with them. Your parents and siblings, they'll be needing you as much as you need them right now. I'll keep you updated, I promise."
Isabel is still for a few minutes, her mind whirring. She wants to go home, oh so badly, but does she want to go home by herself? Can she face a Brooklyn without the people she's grown up with, and can she face a family without two of its key members, the two that felt like home?
"Okay," she eventually says, looking up at Howard with doe-eyes. "Okay, I'll stay here. And I'll go home after… B-but what if I don't see you before I leave?"
"You'll see me soon, Isabel, I promise," Howard says, giving her a tight hug. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily."
London, United Kingdom
March 4th, 1945
Isabel sits between Dugan and Peggy in the front row of the ceremony. The seats have been reserved for them, as Captain America's team, and so they'd been ushered to the front as soon as they'd arrived at the venue, past groups of paparazzi and fans sitting on either side of the aisle. Those people are behind them now, the paparazzi and reporters desperate to get a shot of the Commandos and of the stage, whilst many of the citizens toward the back are crying, mourning the loss of the world's first superhero.
In front of the Commandos is a large stage area, set up temporarily amidst the rubble and remains of Trafalgar Square. Toward the front of the stage is a podium with a microphone, awaiting a presenter, whilst behind it, the brick wall that the stage backs onto has been covered by large tapestries of the American and British flags on either side, a large mural-sized painting of Captain America and his Commandos in the middle. Isabel can see all of the Commandos on either side of Steve, getting smaller the further they go back, and she's surprised when she picks out herself and Peggy. She stares a long while at the painting of Steve, incredibly lifelike, Bucky beside him on his left as he always had been. Even though it's a beautiful tribute, Isabel finds herself thinking Steve probably could've done it better himself. After all, he always had a knack for drawing her and Bucky.
The photographs that the paparazzi snap will be in every newspaper in London by the next morning, and every newspaper in America within a few days. The reporters' recordings will be broadcasted on radios around the world, every Allied household. The presumed death of Captain America will be televised globally and mourned everywhere.
They can hear voices calling their names behind them, shouting out to Miss Barnes and Agent Carter and Private Dugan and Lieutenant Falsworth. Will any of you make a statement? They ask, over and over.
"No, we damn will not," Morita mutters under his breath.
None of them turn around, not wanting to be met with the hundreds of blinding lights. They all stare at their hands or at each other, making small conversation, but otherwise staying rather silent.
Instead, there's a lot of flashing of cameras behind them, lighting up the stage despite it being in broad daylight. The sky is overcast, though, the clouds dark as they threaten rain, and so the light over the city is dull and morbid. It's been that way a lot in London, rains a lot, so it's barely surprising. Today, however, the weather just seems to reflect everyone's mood.
Last time Isabel was here, in the Square, was on New Year's Eve, wrapped up in love and warmth and Steve's arms as they danced and laughed and kissed their way into the new year. Bucky had been there too with Peggy, and they'd been smiling and happy, and it had felt good to just forget everything for a while. They'd been naïve that night, to think they'd be happy like that always. To nineteen-forty-five, they'd said. May we be safe and happy, they'd cheered.
The Square holds none of the happiness and weightlessness that it did that night. None of their toasts have come true. None of their new year's wishes have been fulfilled. Instead, they've been left with a crushing disappointment for the reality that was in store for them, and with the still painful memories of what was and what now is, and what could have been.
The presenter of the ceremony finally makes his way onto the stage, and all of the chatter from the reporters and civilians dies down, all eyes looking up to the middle-aged man that approaches the podium. Isabel's eyes widen slightly when she realises the man is Senator Brandt, someone she hasn't seen since Steve dropped out of the USO Tour all those months ago.
Brandt moves the mic, making a loud screeching sound. A few people jump.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Brandt begins, sounding as solemn as he looks, rather dejected in his stance. "Today, we are here to mourn the death of a man who all of us have come to know and love, a hero in the eyes of the nation, and a personal friend to many here… Captain America."
Isabel has to resist rolling her eyes, because even after everything, when Steve's died, they still can't refer to him as Steve. Captain America was only a part of Steve Rogers, but no one seems to see that.
"Cap was a great man. He was good, he was loyal, he fought for justice, and he fought for the lives of everyone here today and everyone around the globe. Along with his Howling Commandos, who I'm honoured to say sit in front of me here today, the Captain has changed the tides of the war. He's opened up opportunities we never thought possible and he changed our view of the world. Watching him, and the companionship he has with his Commandos, some of whom he knew before the war, has been an honour. It reminds us to keep our friends close, and to love and respect and appreciate them, especially in such dark and dangerous times."
Peggy reaches across and takes Isabel's hand, squeezing it slightly. Brandt looks down and makes eye contact with them, smiling meaningfully. Isabel manages a small smile back, just a slight turning up of the corners of her mouth.
"We've watched Cap grow in a heroic rise from a performer in the USO tour, working hard to promote the buying of war bonds for the men overseas, to a dedicated and capable soldier, intent on leaving the world just a little better than he found it. And he has, hasn't he? Cap's life was not taken in vain, but in the name of saving the entire world from destruction. And for that, we will be eternally grateful and indebted to him. I ask you all to never forget, not only the man, but the morals and rights that Captain America fought for. I ask you all, wherever you are, to employ these characteristics to your own lives in the fight for what's right. If just a few of us were more like the Captain, the world would be a much better place."
Isabel stares, a little dumbfounded up at Senator Brandt. She had expected a blundered speech from the man, some generalised things about how Steve will be missed. She hadn't expected anything so heartfelt and personal. She hadn't expected Brandt to even really know anything about the man that he bossed around for a few months on the USO Tour. But apparently, he does. Isabel turns and looks around, and a lot of people look a bit emotional, a few tears being shed. Apparently, through the comics and the films and the actions of the Commandos, the people of the world have come to know Captain America. They recognise him, understand him, support him. It's an overwhelming feeling, to know Steve is getting the recognition he deserves. It may be more for the persona than the man, but it's recognition nonetheless.
Brandt clears his throat, at the end of his speech, and looks back down at the men and two women sitting in the front row. "So, I ask now, whether any of his closest friends and companions, the members of the Howling Commandos, would like to say a few words in his honour?"
All of the Commandos pause, not expecting to have been called upon to speak. It wasn't at all stipulated to them that would happen. Off to the side of the stage stands Colonel Phillips, listening to the ceremony. He locks eyes with all of them, waving them away to inform them they don't need to speak if they don't want to.
Beside Isabel, Dugan makes a sighing sound and moves to stand up, going to speak for the team. Isabel's hand shoots out and lands on his arm, stopping him. He turns to her, confused. Isabel nods to him.
So make it about Steve, Howard told her, and that's what she'll do.
"Are you sure?" Dugan asks quietly.
"I have to do this," Isabel replies.
She stands quickly and hurries to the side of the stage, climbing the small staircase and emerging onto the stage. She looks out at the crowd, the thousands of people staring at her, and instantly her heart starts hammering hard in her chest, enough that she feels like she might have a heart attack. She very nearly turns and runs back off the stage, but she catches Peggy's eye, and the brunette looks so supportive and reassuring that Isabel simply takes a deep breath and then approaches the podium where Brandt waits.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have Miss Isabel Barnes to speak for us and for her Captain today," Brandt says with a smile, reaching out a hand for her to shake. Isabel takes it, her hand shaking tremendously in his. "You'll be fine. Just speak the truth," Brandt whispers to her, patting her shoulder before moving away toward the back of the stage to give her the floor.
Isabel turns to the podium and grips it tightly to keep herself upright, her eyes flitting wildly over the thousands of faces looking expectantly and solemnly up at her. In the crowd there are hundreds of reporters and news crews and a few technicians filming the encounter for films and for the radio. No doubt, what she says will be broadcasted in every Allied home across the globe. She sees recognition in most of their eyes, most of them realising who she is from seeing her in the comics or in the paper. She also sees a lot of pity, and she looks away, down at the podium where Brandt's speech sits, handwritten in his own writing.
Isabel looks up again and takes a deep breath. "You all know this man," she says, pointing to the painting behind her, "as Captain America. You know him as a symbol to the nation and a hero to the world who symbolizes and upholds honour, bravery and sacrifice. I know him as all of those things as well, but mainly, I always have and always will know him as Steve Rogers." Isabel pauses, an uncontrollable smile creeping onto her face. "I'm lucky to be able to say that I've known Steve nearly my entire life, since I was six years old, and he was nine. We grew up together, faced the world together, laughed and cried together. He was my family."
Isabel pauses again to think about how to word what she wants to say. Everyone in the crowd waits with baited breathe as the broken but determined woman on the podium before them gathers her thoughts and emotions long enough to communicate them to the world, to share the light that was Steve Rogers.
"If you asked me who Steve Rogers was, I'd tell you that he was just a kid from Brooklyn, honest and loyal, who never backed down from a fight and always vowed to protect his friends. He was a terrible dancer and terrible at flirting, but he was a gentleman and he was kind and he was respectful, and most importantly, he was devoted. He was the man who'd do anything for me, and who I would've done anything for in return. My best friend and the love of my life."
Isabel chokes slightly on her words as a thick sob comes to the surface, but she makes herself continue.
"When we were kids, we met a woman in the park, and she was telling us how it felt to be with her husband. She said; Au milieu de l'hiver, j'ai découvert en moi un invincible été. In the middle of winter, I found in me an invincible summer. I didn't really understand what she meant until I got older and realised that I knew someone who had that effect on me." Isabel pauses. "My brother and I always knew Steve would do great things and be something special, and we always told him, even when no one else agreed. He was always a light in the darkness for us, and I'm just glad that the whole world can see the way he always shined."
Isabel has to stop then because the tears are falling so thickly she can't see anything in front of her and they're clogging her throat, making it hard to talk. She turns away from the crowd and wipes at her eyes, trying to clear the tears. When she looks back, nearly everyone in the crowd is crying, some discreetly, some outright bawling. Isabel falters, planning to end it there despite wanting to speak about the rest of the Commandos, since they rarely get recognition. But she sees Peggy's face, heartbroken and hopeful, and she knows she needs to continue.
"I know that today is supposed to be for Steve, and it is. He deserves every second of the praise and acknowledgement that you all give him. But I think there's another person who deserves some recognition, and Steve would want the spotlight to be on this person more than he'd want it on himself. I'm talking about my brother, Bucky Barnes; our Sergeant. Bucky, after all, was the reason why Steve and I met in the first place. They were friends first, and Bucky used to tell me all about his friend Steve who kept getting himself into fights and couldn't keep his mouth closed. Bucky always said he was two hundred pounds of fight in a ninety-pound body."
Isabel pauses to let everyone laugh, people wiping at their eyes. She's glad she can retract the tears a little with some laughter. All of their memories shouldn't produce sadness, because they most definitely weren't all sad.
"Steve was something else, but so was Bucky. The two of them together, they were unstoppable. They were always destined to be friends. They just had this delicate balance going on, where they complimented each other and worked perfectly with one another without even trying, and I don't think that friendship could ever be recreated with anyone else."
Isabel pauses, turning to smile back at the painting of her brother in his navy-blue combat jacket. She can see him, and maybe for the first time, the pain subsides a little at the memories.
"A lot of people keep telling me that Buck was special, but I already knew that. From the day that I was born, Bucky became my protector, my supporter, and my best friend. He always stood up for me and for Steve, who was more of a brother than a friend. Bucky loved with his whole heart and he respected people with his everything. He was a special person, and he was one of a kind. Anyone who's ever had the pleasure of meeting him will never forget him. He'll be greatly missed, forever. There'll never be another Bucky Barnes."
Isabel looks down and Peggy is crying, wiping away her tears subtly as Dugan pats her shoulder across the empty chair between them. She looks up at Isabel and mouths "thank you". Isabel nods, blowing her a kiss.
"As for the Howling Commandos. A lot of times were dark and desperate. A lot of the time we were afraid and a few times, we weren't entirely sure if we'd all make it out at all. I'm sure we aren't alone in that regard; there are a lot of men out there fighting who have the same thoughts. But no matter how scared we were, Steve and Bucky always bundled it up inside and didn't let it show. They always kept a calm head because they knew that it would help the rest of us. Even if they were afraid, they pushed it down to the soles of their boots to deal with later because they knew that what we were doing was necessary. Sometimes it seemed impossible, and our enemies appeared to be endless, but that didn't matter."
She looks to all of the Commandos then with a prideful smile, and they smile back at her as though they were watching their own little sister on her graduation day, proud and emotional and grateful. "Steve believed in an idea; an idea that if a single individual has the right heart and the right mind that is consumed with a single good purpose, that one man can win a war. Give that one man a group of soldiers with the same conviction, and you can change the world."
Dugan salutes to Isabel, making her giggle right into the microphone, her melodic laugh filling the square and making others laugh as well through their teary eyes.
"It's been a long war, and it's been a tough war. We've fought bravely and proudly for our countries and for the world. We're a special group. We've found in one another a bond that exists only in combat among brothers… and sisters," she amends. "I'm proud to have known and fought with all of you, and I know that Steve and Bucky were, too. We changed the world, fellas. And I think we can all agree that was only possible because we had Steve and Bucky. We may have all become a family, but they were the glue that held us together, and it will be the memory of them that will retain what we have. Steve was our compass, our light leading us through the darkness and making sure we all got home again; but Bucky… Bucky was our heart."