She hadn't been under such heavy fire for a long while – and could feel it taking a toll on her body, as her cells tried desperately to keep healing.

But Howlett was with her, next to her, pulling her back up when she was shot down, pushing her forwards – both of their blood mingling and drying on their bodies.

He may not have been as well-trained as she was, but he was just as ruthless. She wondered briefly how long he'd been doing this. They tried to follow the trenches, winding closer to the tower. They left a trail of bodies behind them, and Adeline was starting to lose the fight to the cold – she could feel it creeping over her body, giving her strength and emotionless resolve.

A large bullet from a trench machine gun clipped her in the shoulder, and it unbalanced her so much that she actually spun and fell.

She landed heavily on her back, feeling her body radiate pain everywhere - not just from her current wound. She coughed, spraying blood. There was screaming and then the machine gun stopped firing. Seconds later, Howlett's face appeared above hers. "C'mon. You takin' a nap or somethin'?"

She laughed weakly, more blood leaving her lips. She clasped his hands, her claws digging into his palm – but he didn't react, just dragged her upright. He waited for a second with her, hands still clasped together, as she tried to get her lungs to work. "Alright, bub?" he rasped.

She nodded, and turned her gaze to the tower, eyes narrowing. They were close now. They wouldn't know what hit them. Once the tower was down, most of the men in the trenches would flee to the town – leaving the remainder for the allied forces on the beach – then she and Howlett would pursue the retreating forces. "We have to finish this." She said, her own voice hoarse from the smoke.

They were making no headway, and men were dying.

Steve couldn't move from his position even if he had wanted to. Behind his shield, men were sheltered, and the fire was aimed directly at them. Of course they had spotted Captain America's signature shield. They hadn't thought this through. Night was falling, and the fire had not ceased. It looked like they would have to push on through the night.

He had to get a team up the bluffs to start taking out the German forces, but he couldn't fucking move. He angled his shield slightly, trying to reflect the bullets back at their own men. Bucky took another shot from beside him – and there was a faint yell. Steve could only hope that he had hit someone.

They had said it would be over by noon – they had said minimal casualties – they had said that he and his team would be pulled out by the next morning.

Liars.

It echoed in his mind as the screaming around him seemed to rise in pitch, and the smell of burning flesh and blood and smoke rose in his nostrils. The only good thing he could think of was that at least Adeline wasn't here.

She was safe.

Adeline shuddered slightly, blood coating her hands like scarlet gloves. She let the man she was holding by the back of the neck fall, his throat gaping open like a sick smile. Outside the empty house, she could hear men celebrating. Celebrating – screaming for joy rather than pain, crying happily rather than in fear. She huffed a breath, and let her head thump back against the wall of the small house she was in. There was blood on their pale blue wallpaper – obscenely red.

Slowly she walked towards their main bedroom, and folded herself into the tiny cot in the corner, and letting her eyes slide shut.

Adeline shot awake, and flew towards her attacker, slamming him face down into the ground and twisting the hand that he'd touched her with behind his back.

"It's just me!" The rough growl from under her made her release the hold and stand up. Howlett glared at her as he dusted his front off.

Her head swam, and she blinked hard at the white dots that invaded her vision for a second. "What time is it? What happened?"

"You're forgiven." He grumbled. She stared hard at him, and he rolled his eyes. "You've been asleep for about five hours. I found you when they swept the houses a few hours ago." She headed for the door and he followed her, "Decided to let you sleep."

"No." She said distractedly, moving through the house, "You shouldn't have." She stooped, collecting a rifle from one fallen soldier and all the knives from their belts.

"I tried to wake you. Your body had shut down." He said, watching her carefully. "You should probably head back to the beach, your transport's here."

"Transport?" She looked at him, and he shrugged, looking oddly carefree in his torn and bloody uniform.

"Some guy, callin' himself Colonel Phillips. Apparently you gotta get back to base. Mission accomplished. Hey, where are you going?"

Adeline didn't answer him as she pulled herself through the back window of the house, and landed in the trampled garden below. It was night, and colder than she'd expected. She repressed her shiver, and looked at Howlett. He was too big to fit through as well. "Can you go and get Thomas? Make sure he's alive, and if he's dead – tell his mother." He nodded silently. They stood still, watching each other.

"Where are you going?" he asked finally.

"I have to go find someone. He's-" she shook her head. "I just hope he's alive."

"Be careful."

She smiled at him, a tired smile. "You and I both know I don't need to be careful. Thank you, Howlett." Adeline turned west, ready to slip into the night.

"My name is James."

She turned to look back at him. For a moment they just watched each other. Animal to animal. Killer to killer. Adeline could see herself reflected in him.

"I'm Adeline."

With that she turned and ran into the night.

I'm coming for you, Steve.