A/N: Here's chapter eight/part two, including the moment you've all (hopefully) been waiting for!

Hope you enjoy!

It was a cycle.

Jane knew this as she pressed her hands into her eyes, elbows propped up on the desk with the shaved off corners and broken bottom drawer she hadn't opened in three months. She knew it when the clock struck five and when she glanced at the calendar and saw they were halfway through March. Ten months she'd been in the past. Almost a full year. A lot could happen in ten months' time. Research papers were written. Babies were conceived and born. Couples met and fell in love and got married.

Someone entered the office. It wasn't Peggy, so Jane didn't look up. Two folders fell on her desk. "For Agent Carter."

Jane nodded as the nameless, faceless person left. Maybe she should meet everyone like this from now on. She moves it aside for future assessment. Several other loose papers shift, revealing the bottom half of Bucky's Valentine's Day card. The one she thought she'd stored away in the bottom of her trunk.

'For my best girl,' it read inside a giant heart drawn in pencil. It was pretty plain all things considered; Hallmark wasn't likely to deliver greeting cards into an active warzone.

Which meant he'd taken what little free time he had between missions to make this card and attach it to the gift he bought with his own money, all for a woman he hadn't even kissed yet. Jane's heart fluttered as she traced the shaky lines. There was a partial print in the top left corner. Jane placed her finger over it, though it didn't quite fit. Her face ached, but she couldn't stop grinning. Not until the ticking reached her ears and she happened to look at the clock again. Five more minutes come and gone. In the top drawer was her remote, still broken, waiting for her.

Jane threw the card aside and rubbed her forehead. It felt like her brain had just swelled up to twice its size. 'Okay Jane, how does it go? You're determined and singularly focused on getting home, and then Bucky shows up with his eyes and his mouth and his shoulders and you turn into a puddle of goo at his feet. Then he leaves and your rational mind comes back only so you can do it all over again the next time he shows up to sweep you off your feet. Is that right?'

"Yeah," she answered herself, chair leaned all the way back. "That's right…"

She let her head drop on the desk and released all the air in her lungs. Her shirt was unbuttoned at the top and she could see the lining of her ridiculous cone bra. How anyone ever thought this was a good fashion decision, she didn't know. Re-doing the buttons would be a good idea in case someone important showed up. It wasn't like she was Bucky that time he and the guys were out play-wrestling and Morita pulled his shirt over his head, showing off a toned stomach with a smattering of hair on his stomach leading into his pants-

"Come on," Jane groaned, slamming her fists on the armrests. "What is the matter with you? He's just one guy."

She stomped around the office like a caged animal. It was too cramped to make a proper circle. Three times, she hit the door before slamming it shut with her foot.

"For Christ's sake, Jane, it's like you've never seen a man before in your life." She pulled her hair. "So what if he's smart and sweet and hot. Thor was all those things, too. So was Don. So was the guy you had your first kiss with in high school. Bucky's no different. You had a literal thunder god in your lap and you didn't even notice until he was half naked. What makes this guy so special?"

If there was an answer to that question, she didn't want to know it. She was pretty sure she couldn't know it because whether this was a passing fancy to him or something deeper, she was a temporal stranger and she had to get home. Maybe one day she hit him up for coffee at the nursing home, but here in 1943 ('1944 now' she reminded herself) it simply could not happen.

She'd told herself this a dozen times and she'd tell herself a dozen more.

It. Could. Not. Happen.

Jane returned to her desk and dropped Bucky's card in the waste bin. She almost ripped it back out but picked up her remote instead. Setting it down she found a fresh sheet of paper and fiddled with the buttons, noting down every reaction and lack thereof. This was her mission. Her most important contribution to the war effort was staying out of the way and getting back where she belonged as fast as possible. Anything else was secondary and to be ignored. She placed a pile of books on the edge of the desk, blocking her view of the garbage.

"Integrated circuits look okay," she mumbled, examining each transistor as much as the dim lamplight would allow. "That's better than I expected. Might have to replace some of the wires to restore the connection. How to convince Howard to loan me some, there's the rub."

The door opened. This time, it was Peggy. "Not busy, are you?"

Jane sat up straighter. Her buttons were still undone. "Just doing my normal secretarial work like a normal secretary." She scribbled a memo to herself and stuffed it in the drawer with her remote. "Need something?"

"Not me, but we're both wanted in Phillips' office immediately. I'm told it's urgent." She didn't look convinced.

"He wants me, too?" The last time she spoke to Phillips, he called her Ms. Ciderhouse twice. "Are you sure?"

Peggy shrugged. "All I know is we must be there as soon as possible for a debriefing. Perhaps it has something to do with our little adventure the last week."

Adventure was not the word Jane would've used. Thor was an adventure. The Einstien-Rosen Bridge was an adventure. Last week was an ordeal. Granted, the outcome was not at all unpleasant (she still remembered what it was like to be in his arms), but Jane wasn't supposed to think about those things anymore.

They walked in silence, Peggy greeting her associates with a nod as they passed, Jane bowing her head and making herself look small. Phillips' office was on the next floor up and the elevator was out of order. That left them to climb two sets of stairs and Jane's legs were on fire by the time they reached the second flight.

"So how is Steve?" This was the longest she and Peggy had gone without speaking and it didn't sit right.

"He's doing well," Peggy said shortly. "The rest of his men are well, too. Sergeant Barnes always asks about you."

"Oh," Jane said as though it meant as much to her as the rest of Peggy's sentence. "That's nice."

"That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?"

Jane gulped. "I'm… glad to hear it. Nice to be thought of, you know…"

"Do I?"

Peggy's tone and suspicious eye made Jane's stomach sink. Not all the way, but it would be some time before the discomfort and sense of foreboding abated.

The door was closed when they reached the office, not that Jane expected any different. The multiple shadows and voices coming from inside piqued her curiosity. She tried to count and made it to six before giving up. This had to be a big important meeting if Phillips had all his commander buddies gathered together.

'At least this'll help keep my mind off Bucky.' Jane pulled back her spine and prepared herself for a clash with the big boys.

Inside, Dugan had commandeered Phillips while Morita popped open a bottle of champagne. They drank and lost their minds at Dugan's semi-accurate impersonation of the colonel.

"All you little pansy boys drop and give me twenty." He squinted hard and added an exaggerated accent. "I've been in this army for twenty goddamn years and I ain't here to send slackers off knockin' on Adolf Hitler's door, no siree."

"I don't think he ever says 'no siree', said Jones.

"He looks like he would," Dugan insisted.

"Come one, guys, let's be mature," said Steve, a half-hearted effort to be the responsible leader. Nobody missed his uncontained smile.

"Hey there." And there he was, like the growl of a wolf nipping at Jane's ear. She felt through the thick, itchy material of her skirt, checking that her underwear had not spontaneously melted. "I missed you."

"M-missed you, too." Jane clenched her teeth as Bucky wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Hark!" Dugan shouted, cupping his ear and leaning towards them. "Do mine ears deceive me or have the lovely ladies arrived at last?"

"Fuck off, Dugan," Bucky snapped. "You didn't invite them, we did."

"Right, you and Rogers." Dugan stood and walked around the desk to join his compatriots. "The only two assholes in the world who went to war to pick up women."

"Pardon me, Corporal, but no one has 'picked us up' as you say," said Peggy, smiling politely in that way of hers which promised a slow and painful death with any household items within reach. "We came assuming we were needed for a more serious matter than just a friendly visit."

Dugan snorted. "Friendly visit. Is that what you call being rewarded for our exemplary service with the Congressional Medal of Honor?"

Jane had been nodding along with Peggy, but at that, she froze. She thought he might be joking, but Bucky was grinning in the corner of her vision. She should look at him. Or maybe she shouldn't. No, she definitely shouldn't. She was going to anyway.

The cycle continued.

"You're getting Medals of Honor? All of you?"

"Don't sound so surprised," said Morita. "We may not all be super soldiers or scarily accurate snipers, but communications is just as important and worthy of recognition."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night, then sure, buddy," Dugan snarked.

"Oh, and what did you get awarded for, Dugan?" asked Jones. "Your mustache?"

"Yeah, asshole, you wish you could grow something this majestic," Dugan stroked his bushy, yet well trimmed facial hair with pride.

"What these idiots are trying to say," Bucky interjected, "is that we're going out to celebrate, and we want our girls with us."

"I don't know about that-"

"Uh-uh, you two work way too hard already," said Jones. "I think we all deserve a night off."

There was a murmur of agreement, and unless Jane's ears had completely ceased functioning, Peggy's voice was among them. Jane tried to get her attention, but Steve had swooped in with a sheepish grin like he wasn't a literal Adonis with women all over the country dying for a night with him. Jane would never hold it against Peggy when she took his hand and left with him, not a single word of dissent on her lips. How could she? She was about to do the same thing.

"How about some dancing?" Bucky led the way as the rest of the team debated which bar to hit up first. "I know a place around here I think you'd like."

Jane bit her lip. "Always dancing with you, isn't it? You think you're so smooth."

"You said it." He kissed the side of her head and there was simply no arguing with that.

Bucky had indeed found a nice dance hall tucked away between an abandoned dress shop and an antique store in downtown London. It was smaller than the one they met in, darker with a much more limited selection at the bar. Only Dugan took exception to that last one. The rest contented themselves with fresh beer and whiskey, all on his tab. Peggy had two drinks and then dragged Steve onto the dance floor. Morita challenged Dernier to a shots contest and quickly regretted the decision when Dernier packed away eight glasses with barely a sway in his stance. Bucky and Falsworth dragged Morita, singing That Old Black Magic and forgetting half the words, into the washroom to sober up. Dernier shrugged and said something to Jones.

"He says you have to enjoy the little things," Jones sniggered.

"How can we enjoy anything in this dump?" Dugan eyed the floating specks in his drink like they were poisonous. "I don't think this piss water is even fermented."

"Perhaps it's simply too high quality for your tastes," Falsworth quipped as he and Bucky rejoined the group.

"Perhaps you can suck my dick."

"No thank you. I have no idea where it's been."

The men shared a laugh at Dugan's expense. He flipped them off and went to chat up the waitress while Bucky took his place at Jane's side. All night, he'd stuck close to her, warding off handsy drunks and well-meaning gentlemen looking for a partner. Two feet was the limit. Anyone who dared get closer was treated to Bucky whispering sweet nothings in Jane's ear while not so subtly glaring them off.

It left Jane torn. His protectiveness meant she couldn't interact with strangers, decreasing the risk of new ripples in the timeline. It also meant she'd have more people assuming a sordid love affair was going on. His hand on her back as they walked to the bar for refills felt claiming.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Bucky sighed over a beer as the waitress slapped Dugan and trotted off. "A bunch of idiots."

"That's why they need you to be their voice of reason," Jane replied. "Get them out of all those fights with your amazing sniper skills."

"Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? I must've aged ten years in six months. Am I greying? Please tell me I'm not going grey."

"You're fine," Jane laughed, as he bent his head for her to check. "You're as gorgeous as ever so…"

She stopped. A swinging jazz number shook the walls and sent vibrations up Jane's feet into her chest. Loud as it was, she could hear herself perfectly; the words coming out of her mouth that should have stayed in her brain where they were safe. Bad for her mental state of being, but safe. They were out now and Bucky had heard them. Much as she wished the music drowned her out, his wide eyes and cheeky smile said it all.

"You know," he leaned in, "dumb as those guys are, they're not the only ones I'm stuck taking care of, are they?"

Jane frowned. "What are you implying?"

"Nothing. I am directly stating that you going into a firefight with no weapon and no experience was a stupid idea. Especially for someone with a doctorate."

Oh, he wanted to play that game. "Haven't we discussed this already? It was an ambush."

"An ambush you were not prepared for." Bucky paced around her like a squad leader before a wayward private. His posturing was effective. She almost wanted to throw out her chest and cry, 'sir, yes sir!' "Rule number one of combat: always be prepared for anything. You don't even have a pocket knife, do you?"

Instead of letting her answer (not that he was wrong), he snatched a fork off one of the empty tables. He held it prong side out like a deadly weapon, aiming for her chest.

"Are you going to stab me?" Jane asked, eying the fork dubiously. There was still some food caked on it.

"If you can't stop me, I might." He poked the air around her buttons. "If the other guy has a knife and you don't, your best bet is to be faster. Grab my arm with both hands."

"Not sure how that'll help."

"It will because they won't be expecting it." Bucky placed her hand on his forearm. "People usually go on the defensive when they're being attacked. Or they try to grab the weapon. Either way, they probably won't make it, so you have to keep your head on straight."

He'd checked his coat at the door, leaving him in a gray sweater that looked exactly as non-regulation as the rest of his wardrobe. His arm was firm like thick rope. It couldn't be a coincidence that he has her gripping his biceps.

"Like this?" She moved his arm against the bartop, letting his sleeve make contact with polished wood.

"That's perfect," Bucky said, "for playing tag with six-year-olds. You're fighting for your life here. Put some effort into it."

It took her several tries before he was satisfied. Jane pushed his arm away with increasing roughness, egged on by his razor-sharp critiques. If she was too slow, he'd exaggerate each word he said well over the top. If she tried to direct the blow to a flatter surface he'd compliment her on her consideration for the potential killer out for her blood.

"You think I'm bad," he laughed after catching her pouting, "try going through Basic. Let me hear a 'Sir, yes sir."

"Sir, yes sir," Jane repeated.

"That's adorable." Bucky replaced her hand on his forearm. "Now come on, slam it hard. Break the bones. Not really, but you know what I mean."

"Is this how you treat everyone you work with?"

"Just the ones I have authority over." He glances at Steve, clearly irate that he couldn't exert such control over his dear friend.

He looked away from her at the crowd. That was her opening and she took it. She threw all her weight into his arm. It hit the table with the rest of his upper body. She had misjudged her own strength and his preparedness to take the blow. The end result was him bent on one knee, letting out a string of curses mixed with laughter. Jane didn't realize he was laughing at first. It was mixed with the other Commandos' howls of approval. For a second, she thought he was actually in pain and knelt beside him, fussing over his 'injured' arm.

"Isn't that sweet?" Dugan shouted. "Big Bad Bucky. Kills Nazi scum like a pro, and yet he's knocked off his feet by a beautiful dame."

Bucky was up again, his arm in perfect condition. He winked at Jane. "That was good. Now, what do you say you go kick that fucker's ass for me?"

"I don't know," Jane said, looking Dugan up and down. Maybe it was just the uniform, but he was built like a tank. "That might not be a fair fight. I don't want to hurt him too badly."

A chorus of 'oohs' as Dugan raised his drink to her. "Thanks for going easy on me, beautiful."

"Any time."

A new song came on as Bucky ordered another round of beers. Jane politely declined, choosing instead to nurse a glass of water. Dugan gallantly offered to carry the tray for his waitress friend. She accepted, possibly just to give her arms a rest. Occasionally she answered Dugan's flirty remarks in French, and based on Jones and Dernier's snickering, her words were less than flattering.

Jane's eyes wandered around the dance floor, taking in singles and couples alike moving to the music. It was no dance she'd ever seen, more like jumping in place than moving to the beat. Still, there was a certain charm to the scene that Jane couldn't deny. The one time her friends dragged her to a nightclub, she'd spent the evening avoiding sweaty, drunk men grinding into her ass and going deaf from the pounding house track. She had failed to see the appeal of 'nightlife' and spent the rest of the semester sequestered in her dorm room studying for finals.

She felt like one of those crusty baby boomers sneering at modern-day trends, but this really was a lot better. The atmosphere was brighter, the mood happier, even with the war raging right outside the window.

Hell, maybe because of it.

"Would you get a load of that?"

Bucky directed her gaze to the foot of the bandstand, where Steve and Peggy were attempting a clumsy rendition of a box step. It was the entirely wrong dance for this kind of song, but judging from the look on Steve's face, it was the only one he knew. He stepped on Peggy's foot twice. The third time, he fell all over himself pleading for forgiveness. Peggy smiled like she didn't know what else to do and coaxed Steve back to his feet. From then on, and until he got the hang of it, she led. Against his massive frame, she was a tiny thing, but he followed her without question, and he learned fast.

Pretty soon, he was spinning her around the dance floor, keeping all his limbs in check, earning himself more than a few admiring stares from the female patrons. A few of them tried to get his attention, moving into his line of sight or shimmying up to him in an attempt to cut in. Jane would honestly believe he didn't intentionally snub any of them. She saw the way he looked at Peggy as she raised her hand to his cheek and pulled their foreheads together. It was like a movie: all the world melted away and there was only Steve and Peggy.

Nothing else in the world mattered except each other.

"My little boy is growing up." Bucky sniffled. "I'm so proud."

Jane took his hand thoughtlessly. "Give Peggy some credit. She's been all over him from the start."

"Is that so?" There was something in his voice Jane immediately recognized. No matter what Steve was now, Bucky would never forget the sickly boy he spent his adolescence protecting from harm.

"Since the day they met," Jane said emphatically. "Nobody saw what he was capable of. I didn't see it, but she did."

Bucky exhaled like he'd been holding his breath all night. "Good. I had a feeling Carter was the one for him."

"Did you?"

"Of course," he said. "Second best dame I've ever met."

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She kept it in a bun most days, but tonight she'd let it down and hoped her slightly out of place style wouldn't make her stand out. Their hands were still touching, stuck together by an invisible force she could barely comprehend. Never before had she felt this kind of pulsing energy from simple skin contact.

'Thor,' her inner voice whispered.

'Uh-huh,' she answered, as Bucky cocked his head at the door.

"It's getting stuffy in here. How about a walk in the park?"

Jane didn't say yes, but she didn't say no either. She let Bucky lead her away from the party and the relative safety of a group setting. Outside, in the middle of the night, on one of the only clear nights London was likely to see in a year, it was just the two of them alone with the crickets. No Commandos to ruin the mood with their demands for PDA. No Peggy to make vaguely disapproving remarks, reminding Jane of all she risked every time she let Bucky into her space.

They left out the back gate and walked half a block to a small, grassy enclosure. It wasn't really a park, just a patch of land as of yet untouched by modernization. There was nowhere to sit, just a few rocks big enough for children to climb on and feel tall. The path was a line of dirt where nothing grew. Their footsteps joined countless others, big and small. A toy soldier stuck halfway out of the grass, long forgotten by its owner.

Jane stared at the upturned figure. Its uniform wasn't much different than that of the dead man by the bunker. The man whose name she never got to learn.

She swallowed back a wave of nausea, realizing too late she'd squeezed his arm. He stopped talking. She had no idea what he'd been saying to begin with.

"Hey, you okay?"

Jane nodded. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" He stood in front of her, keeping her from moving.

"Just stuff," she stared at the ground. "Secret stuff for Peggy that I do… you know, in secret."

He pursed his lips. "Not about the ambush?"

She started. Even with her head down she knew he caught it. His entire stance changed and his arms crept across her shoulders, giving her time to escape before he had her in a full hug.

"You saw things out there," it wasn't a question. "Things you shouldn't have seen. That's why I got so mad, you know."

She did, not that it helped. "There was a man by the bunker. He was… dead. I stole his walkie and I feel really bad about it."

"I don't think he would've minded." Bucky rubbed her back.

"Did you see him?"

"I think so."

"Did you know him?"

"A little. His name was Rob Derby. Irishman with a mouth on him. Kept talking about all the scotch he'd drink when he got back home."

Jane almost smiled. Having his name was good, and she'd remember it her whole life, but it nagged at her that Rob Derby never get any of that scotch. Not unless he found an afterlife with an open bar.

"I feel weird sometimes," she croaked, her throat and ears aching. "I didn't even know him, but I keep thinking about his face. There was blood everywhere."

"It's not weird," Bucky said, looking her straight in the eye. "Doesn't matter if he was a stranger. Death is death, and no one should ever have to get that close to it."

His entire visage took on a dark shadow. Though he didn't let go, she felt for a moment like he wasn't with her anymore. Perhaps he'd gone back in time to a dank cage or a cold operating table. He'd already given her a version of his time as a POW that she suspected was heavily abridged. That was weeks ago and they hadn't spoken of it since. Whatever happened to him, she saw it in the lines around his eyes. Even when he was happy.

"Bucky, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," he said, and she liked him a little more for not using the old 'you just did' line.

"How…" she struggled with the words. "How do you deal with it? The war, I mean? Everything you guys do. I can't imagine HYDRA's operatives come out unscathed too often in your raids."

He sighed. "It's not easy. You're right that we're kind of glorified exterminators. Except instead of bugs we're killing Nazis, which when you think about it, isn't that much different."

Jane's lips twitched up. Bucky grinned back.

"That right there, that's how we do it. You saw Dugan joking around with those guys on the ride back, right?"

"Yeah."

"You think he did that because he thinks the war is funny?"

"Of course not." Not even Dugan was that depraved.

Bucky nodded. "He knew those boys weren't the same as when they first got out of that truck. The things they've seen and done… it'll stay with them forever. If we don't take time to remember the little things, even a stupid gag about farting drill sergeants, we won't survive out there. We need to keep moving, for ourselves, our country, and our friends. If we don't, men like Derby died for nothing."

The pure emotion in his voice rattled her, like standing at the epicenter of an earthquake. His arms had turned into steel rods, but when she thought about asking him to let go, she'd look at his face and the well of unshed tears he was too tough to release. She wanted to say it was okay, he could cry in front of her. She wouldn't tell anyone. Instead, she hugged him back, as tightly as she could, so he'd feel her warmth and be soothed by it, the way he soothed her.

Jane placed her chin on his clothed chest, watching the light of the half-full moon reflected in his eyes. "So when it gets hard, what do you think about?"

Bucky jaw clenched. He released her only so he could take her hand and continue their walk. "It depends. Sometimes I think about my family, how much I want to see them again. Last month was my parents' wedding anniversary."

"That's great," Jane said, rubbing her mostly dry eyes. "How many years?"

"Twenty-nine. Dad always says they're going to Atlantic City for number thirty, Mom's favorite place she's never been to. He's been planning the trip for eight years now."

Jane whistled. "That's a long time."

"They would've gone for twenty, but then that damn stock market." He rolled his eyes like the Great Depression had been a minor inconvenience. Jane could help but laugh, and already, she felt a little lighter.

"Sounds like he wants to make up for lost time."

"Trust me, he'll make it happen. Whatever he's got to do."

Bucky smiled thinking about his father. Jane could picture him in her head, an older, more distinguished version of the man before her. Handsome, loving, and strong, ready to fight to the ends of the earth for those he cared about. A hero who held the respect of all who knew him.

Mrs. Barnes was a lucky woman. Jane would never meet her but didn't doubt that for a second.

"You know, the first thing my dad ever said to my mom was that his balls were sweaty."

Jane almost swallowed her tongue. "What?"

"Actually, it's a good story." They turned into a different section of the park. This one had fewer trees, but a clearer path. "See, way back when, my dad was on the town's baseball team. He'd just gotten out of the locker room after a big game and Mom was hanging around looking to get an autograph from the pitcher. My dad was the first baseman."

"Of course," Jane murmured.

"It was mid-August and really hot out, and I guess he didn't realize his buddies weren't behind him anymore. So that's how he met my mom. Two months later, they were married."

"Only two months?."

"Dad said he knew she was the one within a week." Bucky got a far off look in his eye as they approached a small bench, the only one in sight for miles. "He always said, when you meet the right girl, you just know. It's like lightning."

Jane nodded. She refused to look and see if Bucky's eyes were on her. Everything about this situation, this conversation, being alone with him, was wrong. Every part of her buzzed with the wrongness of it all. She was changing the future, risking the present, living a life that wasn't hers… and when he offered her his coat as the winds picked up, she didn't suggest they go back. She took it with a smile.

"My parents didn't have quite so intense a love story," she said, smoothing her dress out. "They met in college. My dad was a physics major and my mom was studying mythology and folklore. Those things go together a lot more than you think."

"I believe it. The planets and stars are all named after gods, right?"

This was common knowledge to most people in Jane's time, and presumably his, too. She still felt like sitting his lap and doing all the dirty things she'd been dreaming of for months.

"Roman gods mostly," she said, hoping the lack of light would hide her blush. "But yeah. They used to go out into the woods and find a clear spot to stargaze. Dad found the constellations and Mom told him the stories behind them. Somewhere down the line, I showed up, and that just gave Mom a wider audience. I'd go to bed every night with stories of ancient heroes, monsters, demigods… child-friendly versions, that is."

"I was just going to ask." Bucky grinned. "Was it all Greek and Roman stuff?"

"Oh no, She knew myths from all over the world. Egyptian, Celtic, Chinese, Japanese..."

"How about Norse?" Jane clamped a hand over her mouth to cover a fit of giggles. Bucky blinked. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine," Jane cleared her throat as the convulsions stopped. "Just… yeah, some Norse, too. But my favorite was probably Orpheus, the musician. He was married to Eurydice, a daughter of Apollo. When she died, he journeyed into the Underworld and pleaded with Hades to let her live again."

"Did it work?"

"Almost. Hades allowed Eurydice to leave as long as Orpheus didn't look at her until they were back in the living world. Unfortunately, Orpheus couldn't wait, and when he turned around, she was dragged back into the Underworld permanently. Orpheus spent the rest of his life praying for death so he could join her again."

Bucky gawked at her. "Your mom told you that as a bedtime story?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, it's no worse than what you'd find in a Grimm's fairy tale."

"I sincerely doubt that."

"Then I hope you never read the original Cinderella." She nudged him gently with her shoulder."Besides, it's romantic. Imagine loving someone so much you'd literally go through Hell for them."

Jane looked up, and their faces were too close; just inches apart. She didn't know when that had happened. This bench was more than big enough for both of them. They could comfortably sit on opposite sides with a good half foot between them. Yet here they were, legs touching, fingers brushing, his breath on the tip of her nose, his blue eyes dark as black.

He was like a magnet, pulling her in. She couldn't escape. He was getting closer.

'No don't.'

Closer.

'Don't.'

Closer…

'Don't…'

He tasted like chocolate and beer, a combination Jane never knew she loved so much. His lips were soft, yet needful, his teeth scraping her skin, sending shocks of heat through every nerve ending. Jane moaned as her eyes fell closed. Her fingers combed through his hair. It was just as thick and silky as she'd hoped. He had her almost in his lap, holding her upright with a steady hand. Their lips moved together, chaste yet passionate. For once, there was no need for anything else.

Never in her life had Jane so thoroughly lost herself in a single moment, but right now, she didn't want to think anymore. She just wanted to feel.

The ceremony came complete with a full camera crew, recording the historic event for future generations. A radio host provided live commentary to the citizens listening at home. Somewhere in Brooklyn, Jane knew a certain family was gathered around the big box, adjusting to the best possible frequency as their son and brother received his honors.

A random senator gave a speech, followed by a random general. Jane watched from the sidelines, away from the cameras. Beside her was Peggy, who wouldn't look at her as long as Steve was in sight. She tapped her feet to music no one else could hear. Perhaps a jazzy number meant for dancing.

Reporters snapped still shots from all directions. Jane hid her face when it looked like she was in view. Peggy helped by standing in front of her. At one point, Jane couldn't see Bucky anymore and discreetly moved to the left where Peggy's shoulder wasn't in the way. The other woman shot her a look but didn't comment.

"Agent Carter," Phillips approached them from behind, "You have a phone call from Senator Brandt."

"Thank you, sir." Peggy glanced at Jane one more time, perhaps expecting her to follow. Jane pressed her heels into the grass and didn't move. After a brief pause, Peggy's footsteps were swallowed up by another round of applause.

"Miss Cinderhouse, how are you doing today?"

Jane had been called by that name so many times over the past year, she no longer needed to remember it was hers. It was ingrained as deeply as the name she'd been born with, and yet she still wasn't sure if she was really the one Phillips was addressing.

"Very well, thank you," she said. A man had appeared on stage with a flat wooden box. It opened to reveal seven star-shaped medals adorned with blue ribbons.

"I heard you had a bit of a skirmish at the Twinfront Outpost."

"You mean the ambush?" Jane bit her tongue. Of course he meant the stupid ambush… "There's not much I can tell you."

"No need, I've already read the reports," he said. "I understand you helped Sergeant Barnes take out their snipers."

"I just told him where to shoot, sir."

"Don't be modest. You saved a lot of lives out there." He offered her a hand and then the strangest thing of all happened. He smiled. "Because of you, a lot of good men get to live another day. You may not get a medal for it, but you have my thanks, Miss Cinderhouse. Couldn't have done it without you."

Jane let him shake her hand. She had no ability to move it herself. Her thoughts were a jumble. "Without me?"

Phillips gave her a final approving nod before returning to his men, issuing orders and dictating notes to a private with a clipboard. In the meantime, the medals were removed from the box and presented to their eagerly waiting recipients. They started with Steve, then moved down the line from Dugan to Falsworth to Morita to Jones. Before they reached Bucky he turned and met Jane's gaze.

His grin threatened to rip his face in half, so bright it was blinding. Jane waved, the only reasonable action she could manage. The cameras focused on him as the ribbon went around his neck, and congratulations were given. Bucky saw and heard none of it. Their praise washed over him like the meaningless words of a stranger. He looked at Jane and saw only her.

Like she meant the world to him.