This fic is ONLY on this site and Archive of Our Own. If you see it elsewhere- report it.

FUN (depressing) FACT: The Arnimhilation 99L Assault Weapon, the gun used to blow a hole in the train and knock Bucky out to the ground below, was also the weapon that Steve picked up in the Helicarrier when he went to confront Nick Fury about Phase 2 in Avengers.

Also yes, I made James Buchannon Barnes die on Valentine's Day. I regret everything.

February 14th (Valentines Day), 1945 - SSR camp Vipiteno, Italy

Hermione heard everything that had happened during debriefing, icy tears slipping down her cheeks. A horrible sensation of numbness, rage, and fear mixed within like a tornado underneath her shivering skin.

How Gabe, Bucky, and Steve had landed on the train.

How Bucky and Steve had gotten split up between cars.

How a super-armored bodysuit attached to two tesseract assault rifles had shot at Steve in the car.

How it had been a setup from the start.

Steve blamed himself.

It was clear in the monotone words he used as his explanation went on to the soldiers and Agents surrounding him, hopelessness sitting heavy on their necks. "The soldier with the Arnimhilation 99L Assault Weapon I thought I had eliminated got back up from behind us," Steve accounted. "We heard his gun firing up to use again, and I lifted my shield. Maybe six feet away from us. When the energy hit the shield, it deflected to the side of the train, making a hole six feet wide, and eight feet tall."

"You're lucky that direct hit didn't kill you," Peggy stated seriously.

Steve's face twitched. It was only for a moment, for a single damning moment, but Hermione saw the way he had nearly said back 'I wish it had'.

A devastation that had nothing to do with her own personal grief curled in Hermione's chest and sat sluggishly through her veins. For what could she say? She could only empathize to a point with Steve on this one. It was Bucky.

Instead, Steve swallowed. "The blast through me clear across the other side of the train. I dropped the shield. And Bucky-" He stopped, nose flaring, eyebrows crunching, and Hermione could feel tears welling in her eyes again. The brutal efficiency of his voice carried over them all, coloring the picture of their friend's demise. "Bucky picked it up. Started firing before Hydra could fire back again. Two shots I think. Both hit dead center, but it didn't stop him. The Hydra soldier fired. Bucky ducked, and maybe it was the shield that took the brunt of the force, but at such a close range- the energy took Bucky right off his feet and he flew through the car opening."

It was like Hermione could see it. The determination in Bucky's eyes. The wind that must have been ripping through the car. Taking the short amount of opportunity given, and Bucky trying his best. The desperation in the moment.

"Bucky dropped the shield when he was hit. I picked it back up and threw it at the Hydra soldier. It knocked him flat, but I didn't check to see if he was out. I just… turned back around and went for Bucky."

Because, of course he would, wouldn't he? She would've too. They all would have.

"He was hangin' onto a rail outside of the train, where the explosion had caused the car door to burst out. Two hands on, just danglin'. We were crossing over a deep ravine below us, so he couldn't… he just had to hang on." Steve shuddered. He licked his lips and blinked.

More tears rolled down Hermione's cheeks. Here it came. This was it, wasn't it?

"And I went after him. I reached out, but the rail he was hanging onto was disconnected, and the metal was tearin' from the train. The wind caught us, and the bumpin' of the tracks cracked the metal before I could get close enough."

Hermione closed her eyes and the tears hit her collar bones, down her neck. She didn't want to hear anymore. She didn't want to imagine it.

"He screamed when he fell, " Steve's voice broke.

There was a roaring in Hermione's ears. She felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her chest. He fell. He fell. He fell, echoed in her ears.

This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. She wasn't living this.

She hadn't been there to help. The dog tags- it hadn't been enough. She hadn't done enough.

And now he was dead.

She dimly remembered turning her face down, and the feeling of her uncontrollable shaking as she sobbed, wholeheartedly, with everything inside of her.

More words were said, but she couldn't hear them. Whatever else was recounted. Armin Zola was brought up, but Hermione was too far gone. Her tears too numerous down her face.

He was dead. He was dead. He was never coming back.

He'd never laugh again. He'd never smile again. He'd never get home. He'd never get to open that boxing gym he wanted. He'd never see his sister again. She'd never get to tell him how much she love, loved him. The only brother she'd had in this world.

He was gone.

February 14th, 1945 - London, England

Her breakdown had been nearly six hours ago.

Maybe six and a half, counting the transportation out.

Six and a half hours since she had to gather herself, lay hands on the man who was crumbling inside to keep him together in front of the rest of his team, and then whisper broken words to a nine-year-old who had already guessed at the pain in the air.

Blind grief robbed her of most of her senses, but determination filled her with something more when Steve had laid his head on hers and cried. Cried not only for the first time in front of her, but with the intensity of a tsunami that lifted, and crashed, and reached, and broke, destroying everything that had been built. With every noise that ripped from his throat, half wails, and cracked bellows, she clenched her fists tighter around him and hung on until her fingers screamed.

Because if he was gone- her Bucky, one of her first friends, the man who would never see Brooklyn again or kissed his sister's forehead, well then Hermione owed it to him to at least bring back his body.

She and others in the camp couldn't go themselves - Zola needed to be transported to a more secure location as soon as possible, but they could get someone in the area to help look instead. And according to Hermione and Colonel Phillips's intelligence, there was a Soviet team based not too far away.

So as the SSR base packed their base as quickly as possible, an order was sent to their Soviet allies to find one James Buchanon Barnes, either alive or dead. A rescue in best case scenario, though Hermione very much doubted it, and a recovery of his body at worst, which she was didn't want to think about.

But then the night swiftly came, and planes were boarded to head back to Headquarters in London.

Hermione made sure that Erik had all of his things, colored rocks included, and they both stayed at Steve's side as they left the country together. Steve was silent during the flight with his hand around Hermione's. His eyes, however, were far away, and nothing Hermione did or said could bring him back. So eventually she quieted, she looked after Erik, and when the plane landed, she herded both her boys out and to the nearest beds she could find.

February 16th, 1945 - London, England

"Hermione!" It was an all too familiar voice, and tears Hermione didn't know she'd been holding back rushed forwards.

She turned her head and saw him. His carefully trimmed facial hair, his shiny shoes, the white lab coat he wore over his fancy suit. She gave him a watery smile. "Howard."

"Oh God doll, I heard." He didn't stop his stride as he made his way down the hallway and swept him up against him, arms encircling her. His familiar smell filled her nose. It eased something strung up tight since he'd left, and she let herself fall into his strength.

One of his hands cupped the back of her head. "I'm so, so sorry."

She held onto his lab coat.

He had known him too. Had known what she'd lost. What they had all had taken away.

She turned her face into his chest and wept.

February 17th, 1945 - London, England

Hermione closed Erik's door behind her softly, making sure as to not wake the newly sleeping boy from his bedtime-storied inspired dreams.

She made her way to her office. The lab that she and Howard were back to sharing as if nothing had ever happened between them. It was as if the reminder of impending death had swept away any bad feelings that might have lingered.

They were friends again apparently.

He was back to bouncing ideas off of her. Careful to look away when she thought she felt his eyes on her back. Immediate in his surprise, and then soft acceptance, when she had explained Erik's presence in her life. It was strange to snap back to what they had been before, but it nursed the deep ache that throbbed since Bucky's disappearance. She had missed him.

When she returned to her office, it was getting late.

She had just sat down at her desk, ready to return to her folders and missed reports, when Howard stepped into the room. His eyebrows raised. "Where you been? Peggy's been looking all over for you for the past hour."

Hermione waved a useless hand outward. "With Erik. It's been difficult getting him to sleep recently. He needed a story and some tea."

He put his hands in his trouser pockets and grinned lightly. "A story, huh?"

Hermione didn't look up from her chosen stack. Had Peggy left her a missive amongst the stacks? She started in on the heap of documents and swallowed a sigh. "Don't you laugh at me, Howard Stark. It's a perfectly ordinary thing to do."

He raised his hands in surrender and grinned. "I'm not!" he said. "It's… I don't know. I would have never thought to have seen you as a mother before now."

Hermione tipped her papers back so she could raise an indelicate eyebrow back at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

His grin split into a wide smile and he rose a hand over his heart. "Hand to God, doll. I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just…" he shrugged. "Look, I'm diggin myself a hole here. I like this you. I like Erik. You make it all look so easy. Gives me hope, you know?"

Hermione's lips pressed into a sad smile. If only that were true. Hermione doubted her skills at this new role in her life every day. Every choice she made. Especially since … Bucky. She didn't know how to deal with grief this close for Steve, let alone for a child who had lost so much already. Sometimes she barely felt like she was doing anything at all to really help him. "I haven't known him even a month yet, Howard. The tough times are coming, I'm sure. He's just a very good boy. All he wants is a place to call home, and I lay that at the feet of our 'achievement' in this together."

Howard swallowed and dropped his head, contemplating something down at his shoes.

Hermione thought it would get weird again for a moment, that he would say something to bring back up the bad times, but all he did was glance back up and smile, looking only the tiniest bit pinched.

"Well, I'm glad he's got you and Rogers as parents. Kid can't go wrong with people like that in his life."

Hermione smiled softly. Grateful and sad all in one moment. "Thank you, Howard."

Howard must have seen something in her face because then he tried to make things light. "But God knows he's gonna need someone to make him break a couple of rules now and then with two tight laces like yourselves. The kid need a Godfather? I'll be the fun one. Load 'em up with sugar, buy all the coolest toys-"

Hermione swallowed her tears and tried to smile. Of course, they had chosen a godfather for Erik, they just had never gotten around to asking Bucky about it before he fell.

Howard stopped. His jaw opened and then closed as if he was stuck. "Oh no, Hermione, doll, I'm- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up- I just-" He cringed and rubbed the back of his head. "God, I'm really putting my foot in it these days."

What else was there to do but laugh off her pain? An ancient technique used enough by all women of the world when encountering men. She had done it enough times already.

Hermione sighed deeply. Was Bucky really dead or just in recovery somewhere? They hadn't received word back from the search.

She put a hand up, in forgiveness and grief to Howard, and her eyes slid back to her waiting messages. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it. It's just … it's hard to talk about now as you can imagine."

Before he could answer, her fingers slid against a forgotten page in her stacks, and a thin papercut sliced her pointer finger. Her hand jerked away, and a hiss escaped her lips. The random note fell to her desk.

Howard eyed her as she popped the injured digit in her mouth so the small release of blood wouldn't get on the document. "You alright there?"

"Just fine," Hermione grumbled, irritated. The icing on her already sour day to be honest. And to be undone by a single sheet of-

Hermione noted that the piece of paper that had assaulted her was not a mere troop movements report or energy reading summary from the Hydra weapons. As she took a closer look, she noticed that it was A) Translated, and B) from the Soviet troops located near the Danube River. Her eyes widened.

She stood up from her chair with her finger still in her mouth.

Howard stood from the wall he'd been leaning on, suddenly in attention as well. "What is it?"

"It's…" Hermione took in the note, inhaling the words. The final answer to their questions. A short answer to days of waiting and wondering.

When she reached the end, her breath stopped, her heart fell. She had to read it once, twice more, just to be absolutely sure.

She couldn't look up when she'd finished.

So that was it then.

"What does it say?" Howard asked carefully.

"They… they found his body," Hermione whispered. "On the banks of the ravine."

Howard closed his eyes. He turned his head, eyebrows furrowed together, sorrow clear across his face.

Hermione didn't know if she could cry anymore.

There was silence between them for a moment. Maybe it had been an hour, time didn't mean anything to Hermione anymore. Not while drowning in the realization that it was all real again. Bucky was gone.

And that single thread of hope, that maybe, maybe he was still alive, was pulled taut and viciously snapped.

She felt as if she was the one falling. Never to come back up.

He really was gone.

"He- he- he," Hermione struggled to breathe. To say anything over the pounding in her head.

"Doll, I don't want to make this worse," Howard came forward and hesitated before placing a hand on her shoulder. "But that letter your holding was the one Peggy came to find you about while you were reading to Erik."

She couldn't really feel the warmth of his skin on her jacket. She couldn't feel anything at the moment. "What?"

"And when she couldn't find you, she told me to tell you that she was going to find Steve."

Oh.

Oh no.

February 19th, 1945 - London, England

She held Steve through the nights. Her back on against the bed frame, his head on her stomach or shoulder. His fingers in her hair, or his leg thrown over hers.

They hadn't touched intimately since Erik came to live with them in the tent, and now with their charge a room away, they didn't for the grief in their hearts.

But Steve touched her whenever else he could when they were alone. Either in bed or in a room to themselves with a brush of his hand against hers. Like he couldn't stop. Or was afraid of what would happen if he did.

Hermione didn't mind of course, she wanted his presence just as much, and his touch reminded her that he was still there. That he hadn't been swept away, or had fell.

It didn't stop the nightmares though.

February 21st, 1945 - London, England

Hermione shuffled the report from Armin Zola's latest interrogation softly on her desk and bit down the need to crumple the forms in her hand. She let them fall back onto the wood with clenched teeth. The man was a menace, a threat, and frankly, she wanted him dead.

Peggy missed nothing and frowned. "What is it?"

Hermione tried to rein in her anger so that pure venom wouldn't burst forth her lips. "I've just read the report from last night's interrogation."

Her friend leaned forwards. "And?"

She paused, wishing for the thousandth time that she could do more with her future knowledge than just sit around and wait. She clenched her teeth.

"Spit it out, you look ridiculous fuming at a piece of paper," Peggy cut without remorse.

Hermione swallowed. To hell with it. Future knowledge didn't help Bucky, it can't do anything worse than that now. She met her friend's eyes. "I think that we're going to cut him a deal," she whispered, vicious anger lacing her words.

Peggy paused and delicately laid her hands on her lap, taking the extra moments to sort through her thoughts. "Phillips wouldn't want that, and even if he did, it's not up to him."

"That's the thing, isn't it?" she argued. "It's not up to Colonel Phillips. This will come down from somewhere higher."

Peggy's eyes immediately swept their little corner of the communications room and fell back to her with a new understanding. "Is this a future warning?"

"Armin Zola was not a name in my history book," Hermione answered, but nodded. "However, when the war ends, those in power will create something called Operation Paperclip. It will be a program used to recruit the scientists of Nazi Germany, and most likely Hydra, for employment by the United States to deny their scientific expertise and knowledge to the Soviet Union."

Peggy was very still in her chair. "You shouldn't be telling me this."

Perhaps, but it was done now and things could change. "If I don't, maybe something worse happens."

"This is about Bucky."

His name was a sharp lash to her senses and she nearly flinched, but continued on. "This is about the future, and making it to then."

Peggy stared at her very seriously over the table. "If that's true, the Allied nations won't stand for it. Too many lives have been lost by every side. They'll be put to trial," she responded lowly.

"In my world, it did happen. The US will see the Soviets as a future threat and try to undermine any power they take after this. It stands to reason that Armin Zola will receive an offer because of that alone." Hermione looked at her friend seriously. " We must make sure that we do not let him get it."

"I agree, he's a horrible man and should be treated as so, but-" Peggy's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed. "-why are you telling me this?"

Did she really need to explain it? Hermione's fingertips brushed the top of the desk carefully. "In case something happens to me-"

Peggy rejected her words before she could finish the sentence. "Goodness, stop-" she shook her head like she couldn't take the thought.

Hermione's hand turned into a fist atop the table. She dropped to a deadly whisper, "Do you think I want to have this discussion?"

Peggy's arms folded themselves over her chest, holding herself.

"It has to be said. You and I both know it," Hermione said. Her words came softer and she leaned forwards into her friend's space. "If something happens to me, you need to know what to look out for."

Peggy stared at her silently for a moment, furiously thinking of the consequences on such a decision. "Colonel Phillips-"

"Oh fuck what he says, honestly," Hermione snarled.

"Hermione-"

She barrelled on, aware of the stark disapproval on Peggy's face. "If I'm dead, someone at least has to look out for Erik, and I know he hasn't thought of that yet."

Peggy snapped her mouth closed.

There it was. The seriousness of what this could all mean. Peggy's future. Erik's. The world's.

She swallowed, trying to push past a pang of rising guilt. "I'm sorry, that's not how I wanted to ask." That wasn't how she wanted to have this conversation at all, but she had gotten so mad- "Will you, though? Step in should something happen?"

Her friend's wide brown eyes were like books for Hermione to read. Determination seeped through and over the perfectly powered planes of her face. Fear, heartache, and unease were there too, but Hermione could see something warm underneath it all and her care for Hermione.

She hadn't said anything, but relief slipped through her, lowering her shoulders and relaxing her body.

Peggy reached forwards and placed a manicured hand over Hermione's. "Whatever you need, I'll do it," she vowed. "For you, for Erik, for Steve. Tell me what you think I'll need, and I'll help you in any way I can."

Hermione's fingers curled over the soft hand of Peggy's, a riptide of thankfulness, appreciation, love, and comfort overwhelming her. Thank the gods for Peggy. She blinked back tears. "I- thank you," she nodded over her blurring vision. "That's what I- just- thank you."

Peggy's other hand covered the first so that she was leaning over the table, love pouring through Hermione's skin. "I'm here, Hermione." She nodded to herself like she was gearing up to protect and stand, and said again, "Just tell me what you need."

And so, despite Colonel Phillips's warnings of future knowledge, Hermione told her closest friend about the future.

March 4th, 1945 - London, England (SSR Headquarters)

Someone from behind her scoffed as Hermione took a seat at the table before Colonel Phillips and his world map at debrief.

The room was filled with smartly dressed soldiers, all standing around the room, waiting for the Colonel to give his presentation on the mission to finally destroy Hydra. There was only one table for people to sit at, those the most important part of the mission, and Hermione refused to blush or fidget at the number of eyes searing into her back.

Steve, and several other Howling Commandos at the table, heads snapped up at the sound and turned to the soldier behind her in question. Those that might have laughed with the blatant sexism were suddenly deathly silent.

Peggy, sitting across from her at the table, turned in her chair to face the board, barely hiding a satisfied twitch of her lips.

Hermione followed Peggy's motions and didn't turn to thank Steve or the other men for their interference, instead deciding to focus on the information ahead.

Not a second later, Colonel Phillips entered the room with two other high-ranking officers, before placing himself in front of the world map and starting abruptly. "Johann Schmidt belongs in a bughouse," he stated, words echoing in the underground room. "He thinks he's a god, and he's willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the US." He pointed to the United States, namely, Washington D.C.

Tension filled the air.

Howard stepped forwards from the line of soldiers behind and spoke as he sat beside Hermione's open chair, next to Steve. "Schmidt's working with powers beyond our capabilities. He gets across the Atlantic, he'll wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard within an hour."

Apparently, in her time gone, Howard had had the time to dissect even more of hydra's weapons and figure out the massive scale of energy-led explosives that Johann had created. According to his studies, they were beyond deadly. World-ending even.

Silence spread across the room, and Hermione and Peggy shared the same strained look over the table. If those bombs hit the US, it was over. The War, freedom of any kind, and the genocide of the billions leftover would be unthinkable.

"How much time we got?" Gabe Jones asked.

"According to my new best friend, Armin Zola," Colonel Phillips answered, "under twenty-four hours."

Hardened soldiers twitched. Disbelief swept across them all.

No. No. That was no time at all. The fate of the free world would be decided in less than twenty-four hours?

A soldier from the back followed up with, "Where is he now?"

Colonel Phillips held up a black and white surveillance flight photo of the top of a snow-covered mountain. "Hydra's last remaining base is here," he revealed. "In the Alps. 500 feet below the surface." He threw the small stack of photos on the table.

More disbelief.

Everyone in the room knew that infiltrating that kind of base would be near to impossible. 500 feet below the surface? If they tried to just blow up the mountain, those inside might still be safe. Then saying their explosions did make it through the hundreds of feet of weathered rock, who knew what kind of escape hatches/ tunnels or defenses they had. It might all be for nothing if they just escaped to a different part of the mountain or escaped entirely.

And they didn't have the raw time it took to scope out where the exits might be, or how to go in undetected.

They needed more time.

Jim Morita picked up one of the photos and studied the image. "So what are we supposed to do? It's not like we can just knock on the front door."

Hermione nearly scoffed. No, it's not like they could do that at all. Not without getting shot up, or blown half to-

Steve's voice stopped her short. "Why not?" he asked, without any sarcasm.

Heads turned to the head of the table.

Steve was staring at one of the surveillance photos that had been passed down with furrowed brows. He looked up, unbothered by the silence and hesitation. "That's exactly what we're gonna do."

Later That Night - London England (SSR Headquarters)

"-and that's why it's very important for me to go tomorrow, and why you can't come this time," Hermione said as gently as she could, fingers trailing over the back of Erik's head and over his still very short hair.

"Because of HYDRA. You're going to save the world," he answered softly. Old enough to understand her saying goodbye.

"I'm going to try," Hermione said. "With a lot of other very brave men."

"Because he has magic, like you."

"Because he's abusing the power that he found. He wasn't born with his gifts like you and me. He took something and made it to hurt others."

"Normal people like to do that," Erik nodded, as if that was the foundation of it all.

It gave Hermione pause. How he had said it… it was worrying. It spoke of death, and pain, and hurt, something dark and twisted and something they had not had the time to dive into yet. She was still building his trust. "No, Erik. Not all normal people," she corrected, making sure that his eyes were on hers. "Just bad ones who like to hurt others. Hydra being one, and your old doctors being another."

Erik tensed.

Hermione wondered if she had taken it too far.

"Will you come back?" It was quiet, a need more than a question, and Hermione could see the fear laced within the words.

"I will," Hermione promised. Vowed. Sure.

For him, she would get through this. To make sure he never had that look in his eyes again. She would win, and then she would come home to him. They'd be a proper family, the three of them. She would do this.

"Do you promise?" he asked.

"I promise," she said, putting her feelings into words. She held his face between her hands and leaned in. She kissed him on the forehead and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. "You can sit with Peggy in the communication room during the whole time if you want," she offered.

Not any place for a child, but he had nowhere to go while she and Steve were off, and she knew that the extra communication about what was happening would ultimately let him know that she trusted him just and he did her.

They were going to be okay after this. They were.

When Hermione went to fetch Steve so they could all spend the last remaining night together, she wondered softly to herself if she was lying.

March 5th, 1945 - Day of the Attack on HYDRA Headquarters, Swiss Alps

Hermione was worried.

More worried than usual that is.

Steve, the night before, had been the same kind man he usually was with Erik, but something had been off. His mind had been leagues away, and his temper had been shorter than she had ever seen.

He'd actually had to apologize to Erik at one point during dinner after he'd snapped at him for something trivial. Hermione had nearly put her fork through his hand at the look that Erik had given the super soldier afterward, it cut deeper than just hurt.

Steve had genuinely apologized, read with him until he fell asleep, kissed him on the head, and things were better between them, but it still sparked worry within Hermione's chest.

Steve was not over Bucky's death. There was a very real possibility that he never would be, Hermione understood that. And the mission to take down Hydra meant the end of the actual world if they failed, but taking even the least bit of anger out on someone else was no excuse. Erik was a child.

When she had tried to talk about it, Steve just shook his head and said that he didn't know what had happened, but Hermione was starting to wonder if he did.

The plan for tomorrow, the excess of anger, the tension and fear, the little time he had to mourn… it was all coming together to make something very very chilling.

And Hermione had to do something about it, plan or not.

Part 1 - almost over.

~Missmusicluver