16th January, 1945, Destroyed Hydra Base, Brussels.
Schmidt stared unseeingly at the pile of burnt rubble in front of him.
Another failure. Another loss.
The pistol in his grip crumpled under the force of his grip, as his rage made his vision go red.
The Americans were taking everything from him.
Anger remained the only constant it seemed. Anger gave power to his work, gave power to him, sharpened his focus. He couldn't give up. Not now.
The weapon would be ready, and soon the world would crumble, leaving him standing in the dust and ruins – able to rebuild the world into something better. His Führer could only get so far – he'd come to realise. He was a figurehead, to be sure, but he was enlightened now, and Schmidt knew that the man would never, could never achieve his goals. He was only a man after all.
Schmidt was a god now.
He would get rid of the world of men, restore it to the glory of the gods. So be it, if he was the only one left standing.
But –
Tantalising grey eyes, lips turned up in a snarl, a beautiful face ruined and rebuilt. By him. For him.
But he wouldn't be the only one left. No – she would survive too. That was her power.
His goddess counterpart, his pet, his property, his missing part.
He would take her back. And when it was just them, he would have all the time in the world to bend her back to his will. He'd made the mistake once already, letting her be apart from him, letting her wreak havoc on her own. He should have made sure she was completely loyal.
But she would be.
He knew her inside and out, had turned her inside and out himself. He had made her new and better – and despite the unfortunate reports of her continued disobedience and attacks against Hydra, he could not deny the thrill of delight he got when he heard about her; the wild thing, claws of silver, the killing instinct like a predator. He had done that.
Schmidt's rage subsided somewhat as he returned to his car, pacified by the thought of her, the half-dream, half-memory of her blood on his skin, her lips, her screams…
1st February, 1945, Nazi Occupied Germany.
Adeline blew slightly onto her hands. It was colder higher up on the mountains than it was on the ground, and she wasn't the only one feeling the effects of sitting still for so long.
The other Commandos were all gathered around in various groups, alternating between scanning their surroundings and complaining about the cold. Jacques' French expletives were particularly amusing and vivid – and despite the tense atmosphere, Adeline smiled to herself.
"What's so funny?" Steve's light voice made her look up from the railway tracks below them. He cut a rather imposing figure in his uniform, looming over her. But Adeline couldn't be intimidated by him, not when a small grin was twisting his lips, and his eyes were sparkling warm. A little disgusted with her own mushy thoughts, she shook her head and stood, wiping the smile from her face.
"Nothing." She said abruptly, pretending that the way his smile died didn't make her feel guilty. "How much longer?" she asked, half-directing the question to Bucky, who was the only one who had remained by the lip of the stone cliff, watching the tracks with his sniper's eyes.
It was Dum Dum who answered her, tapping his watch. "Not much longer, Commander. We'll be moving soon, don't you worry, we've got an eye on it."
She had to resist the urge to snap back, that she wasn't worried. But – as she had come to reluctantly learn, these men were used to a softer breed of women, and despite their respect; they were conditioned to speak to her a certain way, to reassure her. To show her that they cared.
It was an odd feeling. Not unwelcome, but strange.
To have allies – comrades, friends – that cared.
She nodded. "Positions then. It will stave off the cold to move."
Jacques jumped up immediately. "If it stops my l'bitte from getting frostbite, I'll do whatever you want, ma Cherie." The other men took their positions without complaint, and Adeline made her way over to Bucky, who stood at her approach, smiling at her, and over her shoulder.
She knew Steve was still behind her. Could feel him shadowing her.
Bucky didn't seem to notice the slightly tense atmosphere, or perhaps, he simply didn't care. "Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?" he said to Steve, shooting Adeline a conspiratorial smile, before turning back to the train tracks. Adeline could hear German chatter from the radio behind them as the train grew nearer, and tensed. They were close.
"Yeah. And I threw up." Steve said, squinting into the wind, and joining her.
"This isn't payback, is it?" Bucky asked, sending Steve a look.
Adeline watched Steve smile out of the corner of her eye, fighting her own, as she reached up to check the wire. "Now why would I do that?" Steve said amusedly.
"-Doktor Zola wird pünktlich mit der Ausrüstung eintreffen. Die Lieferung bewegt sich wie geplant."
Adeline turned at the familiar name. "Zola." She muttered, drawing the men's attention. "We were right." She exchanged a look with the two men beside her. "Zola is on the train. And they've given him permission to speed ahead."
Gabe Jones met her gaze worriedly, the handsome soldier looking worried. "Wherever he's going, they must need him bad."
Adeline frowned. "The delivery they mention must be of some importance."
Steve moved a little closer. "We'll get him." He murmured. Adeline nodded brusquely, looking up to meet his gaze.
"We have to. At any cost."
Steve nodded, face stilling at her tone. Adeline knew the man, vaguely, knew how important he was to Schmidt's work, knew that Zola had information. They couldn't afford to lose him.
Steve turned to address the men, "You've only got about a ten-second window. Miss it, and we're bugs on a windshield." He stepped up to the wire, and grasped a hold.
"Better get moving, bugs." Dum Dum said loudly. Adeline bit back a laugh, as adrenaline began to flood her body, the urge to get moving making her pace slightly.
They only had the time for three of them to go, but Bucky and her had already worked out their jump. If he had been any other man, she knew that he wouldn't have gone out of pride. But, in true Bucky fashion, he came around to cling to her, shooting her a wink as he wound his arms around her neck; like some sort of baby monkey. "Ready, Commander?" he simpered, fluttering his eyelashes.
"Just hold on, and shut up, Barnes." His body-weight was familiar, and she only had a brief flash back to the time at Schmidt's lab, only a brief second of his screams in her ear, the feeling of holding him with one arm, dragging him up from the flames – before she jumped, trusting him to hold on as they flew down the wire together.
The man had the audacity to whoop in excitement, leaving Adeline to work out their landing.
If he had been any other man…
She couldn't help but smile as she touched down hard onto the train, and he cooed. "My hero." She shoved him off gently, shaking her head as she watched Steve's crouched figure ahead of them. The thud behind her told her that Gabe had made it safely.
They made their way along the train, Adeline keeping a close eye on Bucky ahead of her as the man struggled to keep perfect balance on the slippery surface. One wrong foot…
Of course, she needn't have worried, as Steve began descending the ladder between the carriages – Bucky even reaching out to give her a hand across the gap, like she was a lady getting out of a car. They waited together ontop of the ladder, eyes on Steve like hawks as he slammed open the compartment door. Adeline waited until Bucky disappeared inside to start her descent, the air whipping tears into her eyes.
"Will you be alright?!" she yelled over the wind to Gabe, who nodded determinedly, clutching his gun and sinking into a ready position.
"I've got your backs, Commander, go ahead!"
She saluted him once, before swinging herself down, disregarding the ladder, and trusting her momentum to carry her inside.
The sudden quiet inside the carriage was disconcerting – compared to the rush of wind and sleet from outside. Her soft landing seemed loud, and she straightened behind Bucky and Steve warily, reaching over to slide the door closed slowly.
She shadowed Bucky as he moved slowly forwards, lingering on the crates on the racks. What was this? The package? What could Zola have concocted that gave leave for such urgency-
Several things happened in quick succession;
Steve continued over the threshold into the next compartment, the door sliding shut behind him. The door behind her opened – and the sudden gunshot and subsequent pain in her back made her crumple, as an unknown assailant attacked them without warning.
Bucky whirled, already shooting at the man, and Adeline had a quick glimpse of his panicked face before he disappeared from her sight again, as two more men came into the compartment. A bright flash of blue drew her teary eyes to the glass of Steve's compartment, but from her sprawled position, she couldn't see anything.
She grit her teeth, pushing past the overwhelming sensation of pain to focus on what exactly was damaged.
This was something she'd had forced into her ever since she'd began to be trained.
Look past the pain to the source. Target the injury. Focus. Breathe.
Bullets in her body, yes. But where. Focus, Wolfe.
Two – no three. One exit wound near her right shoulder. One lodged in her spine; which explained why she had collapsed. One in her left side. Painful, but irrelevant. The one that was keeping her paralysed was priority.
Bucky was returning fire – and either the men were stupid or uninformed, but two of them stepped over her, clearly trying to surround him.
She grunted, wiggling her left arm under herself to grab at her knife. Her right arm was out of action whilst it dealt with the bullet, which would make this harder. But not impossible.
With no finesse, she jabbed the knife awkwardly into her back, supressing her yowl at the new pain. The sudden well of blood made it difficult to hold the knife, but wiggling determinedly, she pressed and pushed until she felt the hard bullet in her body. Get it out.
She panted, and with one violent push, managed to flick the bullet from her back, tearing up the flesh of her back. The immediate flood of feeling back to the area only served to increase the agony, but the dull tingling in her feet was relieving enough to push her forwards.
Slowly, she dragged herself forwards, using the crates as leverage. The faint lull in fire told her that Bucky was running out of time. The man still firing didn't seem to notice her attack, and as he took a step closer to Bucky's cover, she lunged. Slashing out with the bloody knife, she brought it across the man's calves, making him cry out and buckle. She moved quick enough to stab the blade forwards into the centre of his back – where he had shot her earlier.
He made a gurgling sound – propped up by her. "Fühlt sich nicht gut an, oder?" Doesn't feel good, does it? She whispered, and thrust him to the side as the door crashed open. Steve took one look at her, and blinked.
Bucky came out from his hiding spot, panting. "I had him on the ropes." He said to her, almost pouting.
Adeline laughed weakly, and pulled herself up, trying to get her weak legs under herself. "Of course you did."
Steve reached over to offer his hand – but Adeline's eyes caught on the looming figure behind him, the whine of a weapon charging making them all turn. Steve's eyes widened, and he tugged Bucky to him, hiding him behind his shield. "GET DOWN!" he yelled – but the weapon fired.
Adeline only had a second to react, before the blue explosion of energy sent her cracking back against the wall, head aching. The sudden change in pressure, and flood of cold air into the compartment was enough to rouse her, gasping at the huge hole in the side of the train.
Across from her, Steve was struggling, and her heart leapt into her chest as the weapon powered up again, and she cried out. "STEVE-"
But then – Bucky appeared, toting Steve's shield and a determined expression – but Adeline's fear didn't disappear because Bucky was only a man and he would just get hurt and-
The blast from the weapon sent Bucky flying, the shield dropping out of his grip, and Adeline let out a choked noise as Bucky disappeared from view. Steve's broken cry made her struggle to get up, and as Steve threw his shield towards the man holding the weapon, she managed to push herself to her feet.
Steve turned in place, sprinting to the hole and whipping his mask off.
Adeline couldn't move – caught between panic and fear as the weaponised man stood again. She stumbled forwards, almost falling as she stooped to pick up Steve's discarded pistol. The whine of the weapon made her break into a run as the man found his footing. She started to fire as she went, but her aim was wild, dominant shooting hand still useless, and as the blue light began to build – she just jumped, only thought to stop him.
The gush of blood over her hands, and the canned screams from under the man's helmet brought her back to herself.
She was straddling his chest, hands bloody, silver claws shining prettily through the gore. The man's chest plate had been torn through, his neck exposed. He lay dying like any other man beneath her.
But there was a scream from behind her – a scream she knew and she stood.
"Bucky!" Steve's mournful cry sent her running again, skidding to the edge of the ugly gash in the train's side.
She didn't see Bucky fall, but Steve's trembling hands as he clutched onto the open metal wall, the shuddering breaths he was gasping, the wild look in his eyes, showed the fall over and over. But Steve wasn't moving, wasn't coming back.
"Steve." She said, worry flaring in her again. He didn't look at her, and as the train rounded a bend, his grip slipped slightly. He didn't move to correct it, didn't try to hold on tighter. "Steve. Look at me."
Slowly, he turned his head, and there were already tears on his cheeks, his mouth twisted in a sob. "He fell." He choked out. Adeline inched closer to the gap. Her hair had come loose, and it whipped around her head, stinging her eyes. She didn't dare look away from Steve. "It's my fault." Steve said.
Adeline shook her head, a sick, anxious feeling making her stomach turn. "It's not. Steve – it's not. Please. Come back. Steve, please. Please." He looked at her, wide-eyed and horror-struck, and Adeline saw the small man in his bright blue eyes, saw every death he'd seen and felt and saw him wish for a release. "If you let –" she couldn't finish the sentence. Perhaps she was selfish. How many times had she wanted to let go, afterall? How many times had she tried, had she wished she could end it. But she couldn't do it, and the thought of losing him made her want to vomit, made tears well up in her own eyes, and she knew then, that she would do anything, anything for him – but this. She could not let him go. "If you let go, I don't know what I'll do. I need you."
Steve swallowed thickly. For a moment, there was nothing. No mission, no Zola, no Hydra – just two shattered, selfish people staring at each other through a storm.
Then he reached out to grip the handle, and slowly inched his way back inside.
Adeline was upon him the second he made it back – maybe to hold him down, keep him from moving, maybe to ascertain for injuries. Maybe to touch him, secure him, to comfort him.
Steve sobbed brokenly into her shoulder, clutching at her with his strength he barely understood. Adeline felt her body bruise under his tight grip, her bones creak, her heart break. And she cried too. She cried for a lost friend and she cried for the broken man she held just as tight.
A/N:
Hey guys! (if there's anyone left reading lol) I'm back with this story! I was debating just taking it down, due to the horrible loss of my story USB which had the next five chapters and onwards planned out and written, but I finally found a little bit of muse for the story and now I'm back. I'll be taking it easy, one chapter at a time - but I will finish this story! Thank you to anyone still reading or joining me now x