A few miles outside of Azzano, Italy
October 1943
Things were both exactly the same and completely different. Sometimes they would laugh and joke around with each other like old times but other times he was distant and a little cold. She felt as though there was an invisible wall between them. Neither of them ever mentioned what had transpired between them the night before he left. The longer they went without speaking about it, the more she worried that it was all some big misunderstanding. Her anxieties felt increasingly validated as the days wore into weeks.
Despite their inability to clarify their relationship and despite the fact that they are on the front line of the war, nothing can break Betty's exuberant spirits. Just being able to see him and knowing he's alive and unharmed is enough to put a smile on her face every single day, and people were noticing. No one more so than Vickie. Despite her desperate attempts to get under her skin and ruin Betty's day nothing dimmed her smile. Until it did.
It all comes to a head at the end of the workday when the Colonel pulls her aside and asks her to sit in and take notes during the next SSR meeting. Vickie's face is bright red when Phillips leaves and Betty is too distracted to even care. "I'm sure the Colonel picking you for the SSR meetings has nothing to do with nepotism, Rogers." Vickie's voice was dripping with sarcasm that made Betty bristle. She took a deep breath in and continued to collect her items from the desk, not wanting to get into it with Vickie tonight.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Betty finally slid on her coat and clipped her bag shut before turning to leave. But Vickie wasn't done and continued to follow her out of the office and into the cool autumn air. "Don't be stupid, Rogers. I know your dirty little secret now." Betty flips around to make her own snide remark, but Vickie simply smirks and throws the magazine that Stark's secretary left. It fell open in front of her feet
"What the hell is this?"
"See for yourself." She smirked. Betty haphazardly lowered her gaze from Vickie to the magazine. She quickly thumbs through the pages, her eyes darting from side to side until she finally sees it. Icy shock runs through her veins. Her face plastered through the centerfold.
Meet Captain America's kid sister, Betty Rogers! Accompanied by half a dozen pictures of her in doing various duties in Azzano. She flipped to the next page and was greeted by a half page recruitment ad for the WACs with an uncanny drawing of her face. She feels her face grow hot as she continues to scan the pages. "I don't even know what I'm looking at here." She mutters, mostly to herself.
"You know, I've been trying to figure out what's so special about Betty Rogerssince the day you got here. I just assumed you were fucking the Colonel." She took a dangerous step towards Betty. "But you're not special at all, are you Betty? Everything you have, you got because your brother is some hotshot celebrity. Every promotion was because of Captain America. Why do you think the signal corps guys follow you around like you're some sort of movie star? It's because they're selling the tabloids photos of Captain America's sister." Venom lacing every word falling from her lips. Her face melts into an ugly sneer. A small crowd has begun to form around them, curious to find out where all of the yelling is coming from.
"I think that those gossip rags will pay a pretty penny to know who Captain America's sister has been screwing around with lately." Vickie shoved Betty's shoulders. Betty is so startled by the action that she stumbles backward. "I always knew you were a hack, Rogers, and now I finally have the proof."
"Fine, you want a fight? Then let's fight, bitch." Betty shrugged off her jacket and it fell to the ground. She didn't start fights, but she sure could finish them. She rolled up her sleeves, balled her fist, and widened her stance. Vickie looked shocked for a split second before her face hardened. The small crowd was starting to grow larger around them. Vickie took a daring half step forward, looking like she was about to swing until Betty shoved her back. Vickie lurched backwards into a private standing behind her. The surrounding group was jeering at them now, some were even taking sides. Vickie stood back up and Betty swung her fist but before it could connect suddenly two arms wrapped around her waist hauling her off the ground kicking and screaming. She knew instantly who it was.
"Put me down asshole!"
"Not until you're ready to play nice." Bucky scolds. She thrashes against his grasp, but he has an iron grip on her. From her vantage point, she can't see what happened to Vickie, but she can hear the wolf whistles and lewd comments the crowd is making at her expense. He refuses to put her down until they've reached the very edge of the camp. He dumps her down onto the ground and immediately she scrambles up, her rage at its boiling point.
"What the hell is your problem, Barnes?" She yells. He stares at her in utter disbelief. "My problem? What's my fucking problem? You're my problem, Betty! You want a court-martial? Because that's how you get a goddamn court-martial." He throws his arms up in the air in surrender. "Holy shit, I never thought I would have to babysit a second Rogers kid." He points his finger accusingly at her.
"You are such a goddamn hypocrite! I've seen you get into countless fights! You're a boxer for God sakes!" Her hands are planted firmly on her hips in a feeble attempt to size him up. "And I found out the hard way how to pick my battles. Something you clearly haven't learned!" Betty shakes the dirt of her skirt and then starts to walk away but Bucky grabs her arm pulling her back towards him, but she rips her arm out of his grasp. "C'mon Betty-" he begins to say in a softer tone, but she is having none of it.
"Do you think just because you've kissed me once, that you're allowed to tell me what to do?" She seethes. A flash of anger crosses his face. "No one has ever been able to tell you what to do, Betty, because that would require you to listen to someone else for once!" He has never raised his voice at her like this before. "I'll listen when you say something worth listening to." It's low and she knows it. "So, how about you leave me the hell alone from now on?"
"With pleasure!" He throws his hands up in the air and marches away in the opposite direction. As she watches him stomp away, she feels a momentary flash of regret, but she swiftly pushes it down. She doesn't have time for that, she's on a suicide mission to blow up her own career. When she finally returns clearly someone has dispersed the crowd because all the evidence that is leftover is the now soggy magazine on the ground.
She violently flips through the tattered pages looking for the pictures of herself. Her name is clearly labeled but the photos are missing a photographer's credit. She slaps the pages shut, it doesn't matter anyways, she knew who was responsible. The tent is full of privates who she doubts have anything to do with this scheme. "Get. Out." Her voice is deadly quiet and to her shock, they listen to her, clearing out quickly until it's just her and Cal left.
"What the fuck is this?" She slapped the now tattered magazine down on the desk in front of Cal. He smirked at her and did not move his feet off the desk. He took a long sip of his coffee before putting the tin cup down. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Corporal." But the smug smile that graced his face said otherwise. She whipped open the magazine to the article about herself and pointed to the photos. "No one else could have taken these photos of me, except you! You sold these images without my permission!" He only shrugs, the smile never leaving his face. "You're gonna have to prove it, Rogers. There are plenty of people that come through here with cameras, any of them could have taken these pictures."
"None of the rest of them follow me around snapping pictures every few minutes, you rat." Betty's rage only worsens the more unbothered he looks by all of this. He rummages through his desk for a moment before pulling out a shiny gold cigarette case before he leans back in his chair and props his legs up on the desk. He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag as Betty tries to anticipate his next move, but he still doesn't speak. He just takes her in for a moment. "I'm taking this to the Colonel, Cal." She did her best to keep her voice eerily calm. Yet another greasy smirk crosses his face. "And just who do you think he's going to believe, Rogers? I outrank you in every sense of the word." He slides the cigarette case across the desk in some strange sort of peace offering, but she slaps it away. She knows he's right, but she isn't quite done with her rampage tonight. She grabs the accursed magazine off the desk and starts to storm out but before she can leave, Cal slips in one more jab. "My wife thanks you for the new fur coat, baby doll."
Despite the hour Philips is sitting at his desk, nose deep in an intelligence report. Betty doesn't even bother asking permission to enter, despite knowing it could get her into trouble. "Not now, I'm busy." He waves her off without ever even looking up from his papers.
"Sir, I know you're busy, but I need to speak with you immediately!" She practically yells at him.
"You want to try again with the correct attitude, Corporal?" Phillips almost looked amused at her outburst, which only fueled her rage. She clenched her hands together behind her back and took a long, deep breath in through her nose. "I'm sorry to bother you, Colonel. I can come back another time when you're not busy." She says through clenched teeth. Philips rolls his eyes and waves her further into his office. She stands ramrod straight in front of his desk as he eyes her suspiciously. "Well?" he asks impatiently. She produces the tabloid and slides it in front of him. He stares down at the cover and then back at her. "Are you interrupting my work because you want to talk to me about Veronica Lake's new hairstyle? Because that's going to get you a one-way ticket back to-"
"No, sir, it's about an article inside sir. There seems to be photos of me, and I have no idea why some lousy gossip magazine from back home would be interested in me." She takes a brief pause to gather her courage. "Unless it has something to do with my brother being Captain America." Philips eyes shoot up and he assesses her for a beat before rubbing his fingers across his temples.
"I'm only telling you this because you're a damn good secretary, not because I owe you any explanations. You got that Rogers?" She nods her head, not trusting herself to speak. He thumbs through the magazine until he gets to the pictures of her. "Goddamn it." he says under his breath.
"When Steven Rogers was selected for Project Reborn, a few people at the War Department had the bright idea to bring you into the fold. They thought it would be good optics to have Captain America's kid sister doing her bit for the war effort. Even published some of the photos from your swearing in ceremony. But then Reborn shit the bed when you were already halfway through basic. They didn't want you to become a target or a kidnap risk for the krauts, so the decision was made to keep your identity under wraps and to keep you and Captain Rogers as far apart as possible." He flicks through the pages casually as if he weren't telling her life altering information. "It's why your mail was so heavily censored." He shrugs. "They even went to the trouble of having his movies banned at the base in Cambridge to avoid you asking too many questions."
Betty takes a deep breath, trying to keep her temper in check. She clenches her hands together behind her back until her knuckles turn white. "If that's the case then why is my face on the WACs advertisement?"
"Don't play dumb, Rogers, it's beneath you. You signed away everything when you took the oath of allegiance. They clearly made these when they still wanted to make Captain America's sister the face of the WACs and didn't want to scrap the prototypes when that didn't pan out."
Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might faint. "So, from the very beginning, everything was a lie? Do I even qualify to be here, or was that fabricated by the War Department as well to sell war bonds with my face on them?" A twinge of despair laces her voice.
"Watch your goddamn tone with me, Corporal. You're only here because I allowed you to be here and not because of your brother. And if you think for one damn moment that this little scene will go unpunished, you are dead wrong." His nostrils flair.
"What about the candid shots?" She says pointing to the photos in front of him. He ran his eyes over the pictures again. "Even the American government can't keep everything a secret. Clearly someone somewhere had loose lips and it leaked." He closes the worn pages and tosses the offending thing into a waste bin next to his desk. "At least they had the good sense not to publish your whereabouts." He leans back in his chair and folds his hands out in front of him. "Who here knows? Besides Vickie Taylor." Betty's eyes grow wide and anxiety blossoms in her chest. She knew that their fight wouldn't go unpunished. "Cal Cooke in the Signal Corp and no one else that I know of." He nods. "They will both get a stern warning about spreading military secrets and that should be the end of that."
By the time she leaves the Colonel's office, the daylight had already faded into night. Bleary eyed, she makes her way over to the makeshift showers. For once she doesn't mind being pelted by the freezing water, it feels better than the turbulence she feels on the inside. She lets the words of others tumble painfully around the inside of her head. The one accomplishment she ever felt proud of in her life was a lie. She felt worthless and used. She so desperately wants to cry, to release the pressure that's built up in her soul, but she fears at this point that she's lost the ability. The icy spray feels like a punishment for the way she acted earlier, but perhaps that was just twelve years of Catholic school talking.
She figures that tomorrow morning would be as good a time as any to apologize to Bucky. He did not deserve the verbal lashing he received from her today. Often, she feels that she carries her father's inherited anger around her like a blanket. Somedays its presence is warm and comforting, keeping her protected from the world. On others it's suffocating. It was in moments like these she wishes that she could have inherited her mother's softness instead. But when you're born in the eye of a hurricane, everything around you feels like a storm. Anger had been her survival tactic for so long that she fears that she's too far gone to change it now.
When she wakes up the next morning, the camp is eerily quiet. As Betty heads to work she starts to get a sinking feeling in her gut that something isn't right. All of which is confirmed when she realizes that all the newcomers are suddenly gone. She later learns that they had been deployed to Azzano. Despair fills her chest, and the weight of his departure makes it difficult for her to breathe. The terror set in when she realized that their fight could be the last words they ever exchanged. Every waking moment she isn't at work, she spends her knees praying for his safety. She doesn't care if he doesn't forgive her, she only prays that he will make it out alive. Every distant bomb, every gunshot, and every eerie moment of silence induces a fresh wave of panic in her.
It's the longest fifty-nine hours of her life.
She is sitting on her cot at the end of the second when suddenly the sounds of engines and celebration begin to filter through the camp. She slides off the bed and pokes her head out of the tent to try and see what all the noise was about, but it was still too far away to tell. She turns back, slips on her shoes, and a sweater before venturing out again. When she reaches the main road, she can hear shouts and laughter floating through the air. Returning soldiers saturate the camp.
The crowd continues to grow larger the closer she gets to the center of camp. She barely notices as a random soldier grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her into an embrace. Her eyes scan the dense crowd. Her heart is pounding in her chest and the more she stands there looking for him, the more helpless she starts to feel. Betty pushes her way out of the center of the celebrations, fearing that she will pass out from hyperventilation. She places her hand on her chest, trying to will herself to calm down. Finally, once she's taken a few deep breaths to calm her anxiety, she casts her eyes out onto the tree line where soldiers are still filtering in from the front.
He stands outside the group, eyes darting across the gathering crowds looking for something. When their eyes finally meet across the crowd, he moves towards her with no hesitation. When he is within arm's reach, she grabs him so tight she thinks it might bruise. She desperately runs her hands across any exposed flesh, searching for wounds that are not there. He is covered in dirt and ash and the left side of his face is painted with dried blood. She tries to inspect it closer, but he grabs her hands and holds them to his chest. Even through his jacket, she can feel his heart pound in his chest. Its rhythm anchored her, reminding her that he once again that he was here, and he was alive.
"It's okay, I'm okay." He says reassuringly, but something in his voice indicates that he's not. "Bucky you're covered in blood, you need to go see a medic!" She cries but he only shakes his head. "It's- it's not mine." There is a hint of a quiver in his voice when he says it and the panic that was welling inside of her chest deflates. When she is finally satisfied that he is physically unharmed, she throws her hands around his neck and pulls him in as close as she can. He buries his face in her neck and she doesn't care that he's covered in blood and grime from the battlefield, she just wants to hold him until the sadness leaves his eyes.
"We took Azzano." He whispers into her skin. "We lost nineteen, but we liberated the town." Nineteen souls for nineteen square miles of land. Nineteen lives for a strip of land with little strategic value. To commanders and leaders, it might seem like a fair tradeoff, but Betty knew more intimately than most that those families certainly would not see it that way. Nineteen boys who were sitting at their high school graduation just months ago. Nineteen homes that would trade their blue stars for gold. Nineteen families that would be permanently incomplete for a generation to come. Betty rakes her fingers through his hair and grips him even tighter and prays to anyone who will listen that she never has to understand that kind of pain.
Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil; May God rebuke him-
"Betty, did you hear what I said?" Her eyes pop open and she pulls back to look at him. She shakes her head. "I want to apologize for the other day." She runs her fingers across his blood flaked cheek. "There's nothing to apologize for. I was completely out of line. I should have never snapped at you like that. You were right about everything. I couldn't see past my own stupid pride." Bucky's fingers brushed across her cheek bones until they settled on either side of her jaw. "I was wrong too, Bette. I shouldn't have gotten so upset."
They don't speak again about what happened the other day. They have come to the same unspoken conclusion that all of that is behind them. Their unkind words have dissolved into the earth like snow on the first day of spring. She stays there wrapped up in his arms until her feet are numb from standing on her tiptoes for so long.
It's Jones and Dugan that break them out of their trance. "Sarge, the mayor, has invited everyone to celebrate the liberation. There's booze, women, and even a band!" Jones claps Bucky on the back. "You two coming?"
"Of course." He responds then shifts his eyes towards her. He looks at her like she's the brightest star in the universe and the notion terrifies her. She doesn't feel like she deserves it. She's not exactly sure what comes over her, but the words spill out of her mouth. "I-I can't. Phillips needs me on call to prep for an important meeting." Dugan shoots her an unreadable look. "I'm sorry but go have fun without me, you've earned it." A flash of disappointment crosses Bucky's face before he masks it.
Betty fights against the crowd to go back to her tent, where she stays pacing back and forth wondering why once again, she had to go and sabotage her own chances at happiness. She throws herself face down onto the cot and screams in frustration into her pillow. She can hear the celebrations around her shift away from the camp and towards the town. She angles herself off the bed to try and rifle through the contents of the trunk at the end of her bed. Just in case, she reassures herself. When she finally finds what she's looking for, a sense of normalcy washes over. The dress hangs off her in a way it hadn't months ago. She grabs the powder puff and rogue and goes to work on fixing her makeup.
For the first time in months, she's fully done up. Her hair and makeup were perfect despite having to use a tiny compact and dying daylight. She was even wearing civilian clothes for the first time in God knows how long. But every time she thought she had built up the gumption to walk out and join the happy crowds to Azzano, her anxiety takes hold of her again, and she sits back down on her tiny cot. There's no reason that she shouldn't get up and go with Bucky to Azzano, but she's pinned down by two all-consuming feelings, the terror that he didn't love her and the terror that he did.
There is a blast of cold air, and she looks up to see Dugan standing in the entrance. Without saying anything he sits on the cot opposite her, setting his hat down next to him. Before she can open her mouth to speak, he puts his hand up to cut her off. "You can lie to the rest of them but you and I both know that Philips is on leave for the next thirty-six hours, so your excuses are frankly bullshit." Betty's jaw hangs open. "Whatever you're going to say, save it. I have something to say and if you don't like it, you can take it up with me at the end, but for now you need to shut up and listen." Betty squares her shoulders in defiance of his words but lets him continue.
"I'm not sure what kind of hold you have over Barnes, but this hot and cold bullshit has gotta stop. It's frankly giving the rest of us whiplash." Betty crossed her arms waiting for him to continue. "You know we all thought you were his wife for the first couple of weeks? He drove us all crazy talking about his girl Betty. You can imagine my surprise when I found out that you weren't even going steady." She felt herself flush red and she resisted the urge to lay her cool palms on her cheeks. "You either need to fess up and tell him how you feel or cut him loose, kid."
"Why am I getting this talk? Why aren't you telling him this?" She huffs feeling defensive. "Oh, believe me I have but after that little performance you gave a few days ago, it seems that he lost his nerve." Betty bit the inside of her lip, feeling guilty all over again.
He stands and puts his hat back on. "Now, I have commandeered a vehicle for this evening and in five minutes I will be leaving for Azzano, with or without a passenger. So, you better make up your mind fast, ma'am." Then he exits without another word. Betty's stomach is in knots as she mulls over Dugan's words. She lays sprawled across the bed, unmoving until she hears the roar of an engine a few yards away.
"Goddamn it!" She exclaims before grabbing her purse off the ground and running out of the tent into the frigid night air. Dugan has already started driving away but must have seen her in the rearview because he slows to stop as she climbs in the passenger's seat. He smirks but doesn't say anything to her. They ride there silently until they reach the town. He pulls off to the side of the road behind another army vehicle. He gets out but she sits still in her seat.
"What if I'm no good for him?" Her voice barely above a whisper. All the self-doubt she had been feeling for the last few days once again spilling out. He leans against the hood of the car, scrutinizing her for a beat. "I think that's for him to decide."
"And what if he's decided that I'm not worth the effort." Dugan comes around and holds his hand out for her, as she climbs out of the car. He puts a calming hand on her shoulder. "Well, then at least you'll have your answer. No more limbo, kid."
"No more limbo." She mutters to herself as he pushes the doors open to the town dance hall. A flood of warm air surrounds her. She can see him sitting just a few rows back from the dance floor sitting next to Izzy Cohen. When Cohen sees her approach, he lifts his eyebrows curiously but stands and makes his way over to the bar. Leaving his seat open to her. He's showered and changed out of his blood-stained uniform into one more formal.
"This seat taken, Sargent?" He whips his head around at the sound of her voice and a genuine smile graces his face. "It's all yours, darlin'." She sits down on the hard wooden chair, it's then that she notices he's nursing a drink that is a suspicious bright red.
"You sure they aren't trying to poison you there, Buck?"
He stares down into the half empty glass then holds it up to her, "Well, this is my third one, so if it is, it's not working very well." She takes the glass out of his hands and takes a spit. As soon as the bitter liquid hits her tongue, she scrunches her face in disgust. "It's an acquired taste, doll. I acquired it after I finished the second one." She shook her head and laughed. She cast her eyes around the hall. Italians and GIs alike were drinking and dancing with a kind of enthusiasm she hadn't seen since she was back home. Tomorrow would be the time to bury the dead and mourn but tonight was a celebration of life and liberation.
He slings his arm around the back of her chair and leans in closer so that she could hear him over the band. "I'm glad you came, Betty." She gives him a soft smile. "After some encouragement, I figured they could survive one night without me." She glances at Dugan who's at the bar clumsily flirting with one of the local girls. The band ends their upbeat song and starts another, slower and dreamy. Most of the couples cleared off to refresh their glasses, leaving only a dedicated few left on the dance floor. He drains the rest of his drink and then stands, holding his hand out to her. She looks up at him wide-eyed.
"You know better than to ask me to dance before I've had a drink."
"I think we can make an exception this one time. Besides, these boots are much sturdier than my regular shoes." He winked at her. He kept his hand extended waiting for her to accept his invitation. She glanced around the room, looking for either Vickie or Cal, not wanting her face to end up in another gossip magazine. Mercifully neither was present. She finally took his hand and let him lead her out onto the makeshift dance floor.
Bucky put one hand on her waist and the other held her hand in his. He held her so close, their noses brushed together every time they turned. Betty barely noticed how their bodies moved together, they could have been the only two people on the dance floor and she would have had no idea. "I can't believe you're here, Bette. I keep thinking I'm gonna blink and you'll be gone."
"I'm not going anywhere." She hesitated for a moment as they spun around again. "I've missed you too much, to ever be apart again." It was Bucky who stumbled over his own feet. Just like their last night together, she wishes that this moment would never come to an end. Later she would worry about the war again, but right now they were safe, and they were together. Feeling bold she leans her head down to rest on his shoulder. He lays his head down on hers and she can feel his lips curve into a smile against her skin.
When the band starts up a more up-tempo song and the dance floor once more comes back to life, she pulls back from him without dropping his hand. "I could use some fresh air." He nods and they leave the crowds behind them for the crisp night air. The night had grown colder, and she left her coat inside, so she wrapped her arms around herself as they walked across the little square and sat down on a bench. Wordlessly, Bucky shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders. Betty tries to refuse the offer, but he waves her off, "I'm not cold." They both know he's lying but she knows he won't take it back, so she simply pulls it closed around her.
Betty once again lays her head on his shoulder and he pulls her in close, shielding her from the autumn chill. They sit like that in a comfortable silence until she finally plucks up the courage to speak. "You stopped writing me, Buck."
He stiffened, looked off into the dark street and a grim look crossed his face. For a moment she panics, thinking that she has ruined the moment. "After the invasion- after Salerno-" he hesitated for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I stopped having things to write about." Betty reaches out and takes his free hand into her own, weaving their fingers together.
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but you know I'm here if you want to talk." She squeezes his hand and her thumb rubs circles into his skin. He looks down at their joined fingers and then brings them up so that he can kiss the back of her hand. The gesture surprises her and she can feel her cheeks flush bright pink. He places their hands back down so that they are resting just above her knee. He stared out onto the town square again and she could tell he was struggling to find words. She nudged his shoulder playfully. "I thought you found yourself an English rose and forgot all about little ole me." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Forget about you, sweetheart? Impossible." She felt her cheeks pink.
"After what I saw… After the things I did…" He shakes his head and for a moment Betty doesn't know if he'll finish the thought. He finally worked up the courage to look her in the eye. "I didn't want you to think less of me."
She unwinds their fingers and places her hands on his cheeks forcing his gaze. "I wouldn't and I don't." She runs her fingers across his cheek bones. "I never stopped thinking about you." Her hands slide across his face and grip the back of his head. She pauses for a beat before giving him a meaningful look and whispering. "I never stopped thinking about that night." A cheeky grin breaks across his face and she can feel her stomach flutter. A light breeze passes down the street and a piece of hair flutters into her face. He brushes his off her cheek and rests his hand on her jaw, his fingers warm on her chilled skin.
Laughter spills onto the street as a group stumble from the bar back onto the street. Betty thinks that maybe he'll pull away, but they stay where they are, frozen in place. When the voices fade back into the night, he leans forward and rests his forehead against her, their noses brushing against one another. Despite the icy breeze, she can feel her face start to heat up at the intimate gesture.
Another breeze whips through the little town square causing her to shake and her teeth to chatter. He pulls away and looks at her fully before murmuring. "You're shivering, sweetheart. We should go back inside." He removes his hands from her face but before she can mourn the loss, he holds them out to her, helping her stiff legs off the bench.
He starts to pull her back towards the street, but she halts in her tracks. He gives her a questioning look and before she can lose her nerve she takes a half step towards him, their faces just inches away from each other. She pulls him by his tie just as she had the last time and their lips crashed together. He seemed surprised by this at first, his apprehension seeping into the kiss. But soon enough he returned it with fervor. His hands clench at her waist, bringing their bodies even closer as she wraps her arms around his neck. When he finally pulled away his voice was breathy and emotional.
"I read every single letter you sent at least five times. It was the only thing that kept me sane out there. It didn't matter if I was freezing, or hungry, or in the middle of battle. I thought about how you were in England, you were safe, and it got me through." He gripped the side of her neck and gently pulled her face up towards his. "But now you're here and I can't protect you."
"Bucky, that's not your job-"
"Isn't it? You have no idea how terrified I was thinking about what would happen to you if the fighting made it to the camp." She gently cupped his face. "But it didn't." A wry smile crosses his face. "You've got me so goddamn distracted, Bette. You have no idea."
"I think I have some idea." She smiled and leaned up and kissed him again. He keeps his hand firmly on the side of her neck as he leaned in to plant another series of kisses across the planes of her face. It didn't matter what happened now, they were together here at the end of the world.