December 24, 1943
It had been a routine mission for Ada. The Commandos were hunkered down in the forests of France for the holidays and Steve and Ada were going to join them until she received an emergency dispatch from a courier. One of her Paris contacts was compromised and the Gestapo was closing in and quickly. Resistance members were able to hide him but they needed him out of Paris and soon.
The two had been in London receiving supplies and orders for their push into further HYDRA bases, but now they were stuck with a decision. Ada vehemently argued against him joining her in Paris while Steve pressed the matter repeatedly. It got to the point where she even tried to silently slip out of their shared bed and leave under the cover of darkness but that damn serum had his senses heightened.
So here they were, bundled up in dark coats and carefully making their way through the darkened streets of Paris. They had an hour until curfew but it felt like night had already fallen on the city. Nazi soldiers watched from every corner and their false papers weighed heavily in their pockets each time they passed a soldier.
Whereas London still held a spirit of resistance and hope, Paris seemed cloaked in grief. Gone were the days of cafes and salons as residents hid in their homes away from the watchful eye of the Nazis. Instead, the streets were lined with swastikas and gun toting men.
Ada hooked her arm through the crook of his elbow and stepped over some shattered glass bottles. Her blonde hair was pinned up and hidden under the hat she donned and a fedora helped provide his face some cover as they passed Nazi after Nazi.
"We just need to get Jean out and then make it to the train station," Ada murmured low in French. He had picked up quite a bit of the language since being with the Commandos and having to try and translate Jacques, Gabe, and Ada. He was far better at listening than speaking and Ada assured him that his accent was positively American and that he should leave the speaking to her unless necessary.
"Halt!" a soldier shouted. The couple stilled in their movement and slowly turned to face the man approaching. "Papers."
Ada hurriedly fetched hers out of her pocket and passed them to the man, indicating for Steve to do the same. On paper they were Colette and Bernard Moreau, a couple that lived in the thirteenth arrondissement. The guard inspected both of their papers and then looked up at the two, studying their faces.
"I presume your husband does not speak German," he stated bluntly.
"No, sir," Ada replied. "Only French."
"Unfortunate. What are you doing out today?"
"It is Christmas Eve, sir. We are heading to Mass."
The soldier paused in his reading and then nodded. He passed them their papers back and gestured for them to continue on. Ada thanked him quietly and then inclined her head down as they walked.
"What did he ask?" Steve whispered once they were out of eyesight.
"What we were doing out," she replied.
"And what did you say?"
"That we had Mass to attend."
Steve swore under his breath. "Doll, Christmas Mass is held typically at four, six-thirty, and midnight."
Ada glanced over her shoulder and found no one watching them. She focused her attention forward and sighed. "We'll be fine. Let's just get Jean and get out of here. He has been helping coordinate information for a future invasion."
"What do you mean invasion?"
She simply kept walking, leading him along with a firm step and a smirk on her lips. He absolutely hated it when she did that.
Turns out, they were not fine. Jean was exactly where the message had alluded to his hideout but Ada stopped dead when she saw him.
"We only have one set of papers, you fool," she spat. The Frenchman stood, two children ducking behind his leg and hiding their faces from view. They were hiding in an attic of a Parisian townhome where only one person should be hidden, rather than three. Madame Leroux wrung her hands nervously at the sharpness of Ada's tone. Clearly, the woman was on edge thanks to the Gestapo closing in on the man hidden in her house.
"I had to," he replied quickly. "Their parents were rounded up and taken. They're Jews."
Steve glanced at his wife whose eyes softened just a hint at the reason for the children's presence. Ada pursed her lips and looked to Steve. He could see her mind was racing with the "what ifs", both good and bad.
"What would we need to do to get the kids out of France and to safety?" he asked her.
"We can't just walk them out of the city," she murmured. "I don't have the time or ability to draw up new papers. Many of my Paris contacts are being arrested or executed. I think...I think we have a mole."
Jean let out a string of curses. Ada looked frustrated beyond belief and the weight of this whole operation was clawing at her shoulders and weighing her down. She could rely on herself and risk herself but this was greater than just her. There were good, innocent people who were risking their lives out there. Too many had already been lost.
"Jean, take these papers and get out. Get to the train station and get to the border. Do not come back and don't risk it," she ordered, thrusting the sheaf of papers towards him. Jean looked down at them in shock and she waved them in his face. "Go. The second you're over the lines, and I will know, I'm closing the ring. I'm shutting it down. So go before you get people killed."
He didn't protest and gratefully took the papers. The tall, lanky man headed for the doors and then hesitated, looking back at the two children. "What about them?"
"Bernard and I will get them out. I swear to you."
Jean's gaze swung between the blonde and the huge figure standing by her. He then looked to the children and nodded. "They're in good hands. Thank you, le fantôme. We would have lost more if it weren't for you."
Ada simply turned her back to him and waved him off. Her jaw clenched tightly against the rush of emotions that burned in her chest. She waited until the door shut before she righted herself and focused on the two children staring up at them. They were at least nine and twelve which was good. They were old enough to know that staying quiet would save their lives.
"We need to move them. You're already at risk," she informed Madame Leroux.
"And go where? We have no papers for them," Steve reminded her.
With a firm set of her shoulders and a pursing of her lips, Ada made up her mind. "We go to Mass."
In the darkness of the room, he could barely make out the lines of the figures around him. The moon was nearly gone from the sky and all of the lights were extinguished due to the blackout. A weight pressed against his side and offered some warmth as more pressure settled on his other arm. The room was bone chillingly cold thanks to the bitter winters and screaming winds that nipped and tore at the thin stone walls.
He bowed his head in an attempt to block out the freezing cold wind and keep the bodies next to him warm. His fingers ran over the beads in his hands as his lips silently mouthed along the words. He wasn't even thinking, it was simply just muscle memory at this point.
He held his breath and then exhaled slowly, as if breathing any faster would alert the Gestapo to their precarious location in the church. The nuns and priests of the Égalise Saint-Antoine were risking their very lives by keeping them here. Ada knew that they were an ally and had rushed them here as curfew began to set. The priest immediately pulled them inside and upstairs to a tiny attic at the top of the church.
The wind howled fiercely once more and the body leaning against him shivered. He tugged her coat tighter around her shoulders and pulled her firmly against him to try and give her his heat. Her big green eyes peaked out from under her lashes and she blinked up at him, a wan smile tugging at her lips.
"Cold?" he asked.
She shook her head and tucked her head under his chin. "No. I've been colder. Far colder. I was just thinking."
He could understand her shiver. Sitting here in this damp, dark room with no way out and no plan was making his mind race for limited possibilities.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "This is my fault."
He shook his head. She didn't know that they would be rescuing two children. She didn't know that this simple paper drop was now turning into a clandestine operative removal.
"No, it is. I knew the ring was compromised. I should have shut it down sooner. Then we wouldn't be stuck here."
Steve looked down at the two children curled up next to them. Across the small space sat another family, other refugees, hiding in the darkness. They had been here for a week, reported Father Maurice. Now they were stuck until Resistance forgers could secure them papers just like Steve and Ada.
He should really be thinking about something other than his wife's smaller form pressed against his side, a sleeping child curled up in her lap. Cecilia, the oldest at eleven, and Louis, nine, seemed much more fragile than a child should be. They were encased in the horrors of war and it dragged across their faces, making them appear to be older and smaller and quieter. Louis clung to Ada, his little cheek pressed against her shoulder, while Cecilia found safety tucked under Steve's other arm.
"They're just children," she murmured. "Just like I was."
He pulled her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her skin. There were no words to say to make this war seem easier or better. War is hell. It affects everyone from the oldest of men to the youngest of children. Would he ever get these images out of his head? Or would they haunt his mind forever?
"When this war is over…" he hesitated and then swallowed down the words that threatened to spill out of him. Ada bumped her nose against his shoulder and then looked back up at him, indicating that he should continue.
"I want to start a family with you," he admitted.
Whatever she was expecting him to say, it certainly wasn't that. The blonde reared her head back in surprise and blinked rapidly, as if clearing her mind of the mess of thoughts that now swirled around her brain.
"Steve," she breathed. "I don't...I never thought of it before."
"It wasn't supposed to be possible before," he said. "I always felt so useless to you that I couldn't provide like a man should and now...now it's possible."
"But Drema-"
"We tear them down right after HYDRA. I'm not going to let you keep living in fear."
Ada bit her lip and stared off into a darkened corner of the attic. Her teeth chewed on the pink skin as she mulled around the idea and then she shut her eyes, a memory surfacing along her eyes. That frigid, freezing night in Siberia and the blood….the blood. But her thoughts remained.
I will marry a big, strong man. He will be so strong that he will take me from here and they can never hurt me again.
Her eyes opened and her gaze drifted to the blue eyes watching her carefully. She studied the curved bridge of his nose and his broad jaw and his seemingly perfect lips that she loved to taste. Sure, he was big and strong now but he was also good and kind and worthy. Some days she felt as though she had no right marrying such a good man. She could see it now, images of him with their daughter in a tiny Brooklyn kitchen as he spun her around after work. Or with their son at the park. And oh, how her chest ached at the sight.
"Yes. Yes, I would like that very much," she exhaled.
The bells chimed in the distance as he craned his head down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Ada counted in her mind up to twelve and then broke apart, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Rogers."
"You celebrate Christmas?" he teased.
"I married a papist, didn't I?"
He kissed her once more but paused and pulled away at the sound of something downstairs. The doors to the church were opening, angry shouts of German permeating the air.
The Gestapo was here.