83.

Brooklyn, New York City

29th June, 1946

"And now it's time for the Captain America Adventure Program, brought to you by Roxxon motor oil. Tonight's thrilling tale takes us deep into the heart of the Ardennes Forest, where Hitler's Nazi guard have ambushed the one-hundred and seventh infantry and taken Abigail Carnes and Betty Carver, the battalion's beautiful triage nurse and the talented allied agent, as their hostage."

Isabel looks up at the slightly changed versions of her and Peggy's name, wincing slightly. The Captain America programs on the radio had begun during the war, way back when Steve was doing the USO Tour. At that point, they'd even been lucky enough to have Steve provide his voice to play himself. Once he'd taken to the battlefields for real, they'd replaced him with a voice actor of similar style and tone, and they'd even gotten a few females to play the roles of Isabel, Peggy, and another man for Bucky and the other Commandos. Isabel's heard it playing on the radio in public, and accidentally whilst tuning her radio, enough times to know who's who and the general gist of the show. She also knows enough about it to know she doesn't like it.

While Isabel winces, Peggy glares at the radio behind the counter of the L&L Automat where Angie is bustling around preparing drinks.

"You lousy krauts are in big trouble once Captain America gets here," fake-Peggy tells their apparent hostages, her voice feminine and exaggerated.

Then, apparent Isabel pitches in her own two cents in a similar, feminine voice, truly taking on the damsel-in-distress role. "Captain America wouldn't leave his best girls behind. He'll be here before you can see heil Hi–"

"When I'm through with you, Hitler," the voice of the Captain says, to a relieved gasp from his "best girls", "you're gonna be seeing stars and stripes!"

Then, there's the sounds of punching, someone in the background aggressively punching something to represent Steve taking out Hitler.

"Nein!" The annoying, nasally voice of Adolf Hitler argues. "You will bow down to the Furher!"

Isabel sinks further into her seat, head in her hands. Peggy sighs. "Would you mind turning that off, Angie?" Peggy suddenly asks of the waitress, nodding her head toward the radio with a sour look on her face.

"Oh, you bet," Angie says easily, quickly turning the dial and changing the station to one that plays slow jazz music. "Arlene French beat me out for that part." Angie then concentrates a moment before changing her voice to imitate the women on the radio program. "You lousy krauts are in big trouble once Captain America gets here. It's better, right?" She asks with a beaming smile.

"Thrillingly realistic," Peggy reassures, rather sarcastically.

Once Angie moves away to another customer, Peggy turns to Isabel. "I have an awful lot to tell you," Peggy says quietly, her voice barely a whisper.

"What? More than playing spy at the club and disarming a bomb in the bathroom?" Isabel asks, somehow sounding unfazed by the entire situation. "What did you do the other day after you left the apartment, by the way? I feel like you didn't go to work."

"Mm, not exactly," Peggy says, vaguely. "Pack up your things, let's take a walk."

Isabel dutifully gathers up her belongings, leaves her share of the bill and a tip for Angie, and then follows Peggy outside into the warm sun of the early morning. Coming into summer, the streets of Brooklyn are bright and warm and lively, and it makes them both feel a little better. The gloominess of winter had been hard on both of them.

"After we disabled the nitramene bomb, Mister Jarvis and I took it to one of the scientists at Stark Industries, Anton Vanko. He investigated the remains of the bomb and found that it radiated Vita Rays."

Isabel's eyes widen. "You mean what Erskine used in Project Rebirth?"

"Yes, I caught that right away, too," Peggy says. "I went to the SSR and found the storage box containing all of the information from the project, and I, uh, took this for you, for reminiscing purposes. I wasn't sure if you'd seen it," she continues, pulling a small photograph from her purse and handing it to Isabel. Its of Steve, before the serum at Camp Lehigh for boot camp. He's wearing a baggy white shirt and dog tags, his blonde hair clipped shorter than he normally wore it, frowning at something off camera. Isabel feels a smile pull at her lips.

"They showed this picture in that film we watched when the Commandos were on their first mission," Isabel remembers in a soft voice. "Thank you, Peggy."

"You're very welcome. Now, I actually went into the box to retrieve the Vita Ray detector that was used during the experiment. It can pick up any traces of Vita Rays, even in small doses. Doctor Vanko directed us to the Roxxon motor oil facility in Red Hook, where we believed the nitramene bombs may have been in the process of being sold to a new buyer. Mister Jarvis and I staked out the factory. I then snuck inside and found one of the Roxxon scientists speaking about the sale with another man. Unfortunately, Mister Jarvis is still unapt to deal with espionage and radioed me, drawing their attention to my presence. I took down the scientist and followed the seller outside to a waiting dairy truck, which he opened the back of to reveal dozens of the nitramene devices. He obviously stood right by them, so I couldn't risk shooting him. He gave me only one warning, "Leviathan is coming", before setting one of the bombs alight and giving me only thirty seconds to escape."

Isabel looks a little flustered by this, but not too much. "What's a Leviathan?" She asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm not sure. It could be a person, or an entire organisation."

"Not another Hydra?" Isabel asks carefully.

"I pray to God that it isn't," Peggy replies.

They stop at the edge of the road to wait for the stoplights, the streets busy with cars at peak hour. They cross once it's safe amidst a huddle of others.

"Why didn't you ask me to help you?" Isabel asks suddenly, looking a little solemn.

"It's far too dangerous, and I've already involved you enough," Peggy says sternly, wanting to implement that she doesn't want her friend involved any further. It had been a mistake to involve her in the first place.

"Look, Peg, I know I'm not a field agent. I'm not stupid, I know I can't shoot well or sneak around like you can. My mind doesn't work like that. But you and Howard are my friends and I want to help you both," Isabel says sincerely, stopping on the footpath. "If you want or need my help, all you have to do is ask."

"I appreciate that, darling, I really do. But it's very dangerous, what I do. And I feel you've had your fair share of danger." Isabel opens her mouth to argue. "Ah, don't," Peggy says quickly, hushing her. "I may be your friend, but you have an actual family that you have to think of. You have parents and siblings only a few blocks away."

Isabel sighs, looking away. "I know. Mama wouldn't take it well if she lost me as well."

"Exactly. So, I'm going to do this on my own from now on. I never should have involved you in the first place. It has absolutely nothing to do with you or your abilities. I just want to keep you safe. Understood?"

Isabel sighs, a small understanding smile biting at the corner of her mouth. "Understood. Go find those Vita-Ray soaked undercover agents and give 'em a right kick for me."


Isabel gets a summons a few days later, asking for her attendance at the SSR base. Peggy is out of office, and she's met by Roger Dooley himself, the supervising agent of the branch. He takes her coat and leads her into a small room. It's a cold looking room with no windows except a massive pane of glass on one wall. Dooley closs the door behind it, leaving them together in the empty room.

"Take a seat," he says happily, pointing to the metal slab table in the middle of the room and the metal chair on the opposite side.

Isabel carefully lowers herself into it, looking at Dooley suspiciously. "Is this an interrogation room?" She asks quietly. "Are you questioning me?"

"Just a formality!" He reassures quickly, sitting opposite her. He clasps his hands on the table and looks at her expectantly.

"Okay," Isabel says. "What's this about then?"

"What do you know about Howard Stark, Miss Barnes?" Dooley asks, eyes narrowing on her.

"Howard? About what he did? Only what they publish in the papers," Isabel responds.

"Interesting. Living with Agent Carter, I would have assumed you would have known more."

"Well, Peggy doesn't tell me anything about her work. I'm still a part of the SSR but I'm not active on these cases so I have no clearance to know this information beyond public knowledge."

"That is true," Dooley agrees. "And Stark himself? You haven't heard from him?"

"No, not at all."

"But he bought your apartment for you?" Dooley says.

Isabel frowns, not really seeing the relevance. "Yes… because he didn't want me to be under financial stress after… everything else."

"Why would he do that for you?"

"Because we're friends," Isabel tells them. "He... we were close in the war."

"Seems a lot of people were, but he ain't the man you knew back then."

Isabel frowns further, a dent forming between her eyebrows. "According to the papers."

"You don't believe that Stark would sell these dangerous weapons to the enemy?"

"Not intentionally," Isabel says. "Project Midnight Oil. During the war. Stark's weaponry was used without his authorisation and it ended in the death of hundreds. He felt guilty for months, probably still does. He wasn't the one who dropped that gas then, and I highly doubt he's caused these issues right now."

"You hold him in high regard," Dooley notes.

"He tried to find Steve," Isabel says simply, folding her arms across her chest comfortingly. "And he was my friend."

"And you don't talk to your friend anymore?"

"No. Not for months, not since I got back to New York. He's off the grid."

"So, you haven't been in contact with Stark since you accompanied him on his mission to recover Captain Rogers' body?" Dooley repeats, taking notes on a small notepad from his shirt pocket.

Isabel breathes in sharply. "Please don't mention that."

"Apologies."

"I haven't heard from Howard since I left his rescue mission and came home to New York. No letter, no phone call, no coffee. It's like we don't even know each other anymore," Isabel finally says, emphasising it with enough sharpness that Dooley knows to move on.

"And Carter lives with you in this apartment, correct?"

"Yes."

"Does she tell you anything about her line of work?" Dooley asks, an eyebrow raising suspiciously.

"No, not anything confidential."

"She's been acting strange lately. Have you noticed?"

"No, not at all. She's been perfectly normal at home," Isabel says confidently. She pauses, looking sideways at Dooley. "What is this about? Howard or Peggy?"

"Just looking for the leak," Dooley responds cryptically.

"Me?" Isabel clarifies, sounding shocked.

Dooley shrugs lightly. "You had a close connection to the SSR. Sometimes the leak comes from the inside."

Isabel's jaw flops open in disbelief. "I'm not the leak. Who would I even tell? I wouldn't know the first place to start looking for the enemy to tell them!"

"They find you, Miss Barnes. Not the other way around," Dooley tells her.

"So, you're implying I'm a traitor," Isabel accuses, anger lacing her voice.

"No, just that you're a likely target. Friends with Stark. Living in close quarters with Agent Carter, who herself has been acting strange. What is she up to? What is she doing?"

"I wouldn't have a clue, sir. She goes off to work everyday and she leaves her work at the office. Agent Carter is a very professional and dignified woman. She's not about to let some civilian in on your secret business," Isabel retorts, leaning over the table at the man menacingly. She hopes her expression conveys enough for Dooley to watch his next words.

"And so she shouldn't," Dooley confirms. He sits back then, thinking. "One of our agents has died, Miss Barnes, of very unfortunate and preventable circumstances. If Agent Carter is conducting side missions without authorisation, she could be the cause of all these issues our precinct has been experiencing. If you know something, now is the time to tell me."

Isabel swallows. "As I said before, Chief Dooley, I know of nothing that Peggy does outside of the apartment and our local laundromat."

Dooley nods. "Can you pass on a message for me?"

Isabel hesitates. He works alongside Peggy; surely, he can deliver it himself. "Sure."

"A good agent doesn't let their personal life interfere with their work–"

"Is this going to be another excuse for you all to degrade her for being a woman?" Isabel asks bluntly. At Dooley's look, she adds, "Oh yes, she did tell me about that part of her work."

Dooley continues as if Isabel had not spoken. "Agent Carter is up to something," he says, his voice one of warning. "The Roxxon explosion, sited at the abandoned ship, sneaking around town out of hours. Agent Carter has been revelling in unflattering and dangerous work, and it will backfire on her. Flattering her eyelashes and using the excuse of being upset about her dead boyfriend won't cut it anymore around here."

"HOW DARE YOU!" Isabel bursts, standing so fast from her chair that it flies back into the wall behind her. "That's my brother you're talking about, so you watch your mouth," she threatens to Dooley, pointing a slender finger menacingly in his scowling face. "Got it?"

Dooley looks as though he could easily rip her to shreds, but he nods nonetheless. With that, Isabel storms out of the interrogation room. Agent Dooley makes no move to stop her, watching after her with a thoughtful expression.

Isabel finds herself out on the footpath. She turns to glare back at the SSR building, hoping Dooley will be looking out at her so she can flip him the bird. He isn't though, so she huffs in frustration.

"After all I've done, you'd think they'd think a bit better of me than to think I'm the leak," Isabel huffs. "If only you were around to sort 'em out, Buck. They'd listen to you," she finds herself saying to no one.

A passing woman stares at Isabel as she talks to herself alone on the footpath. Isabel turns and walks away slowly toward the street corner.

"I wish you were here. I wish you both were here. I wish I could talk to you and ask you what to do. It's all such a mess. Just tell me what I should do, please," she whispers, holding her forehead just over the dulling ache growing there. "Talk to you!" She says suddenly, causing the man next to her at the crossing to give her a side eye. "That's it. I know how I can talk to you!"

Isabel turns then and runs off, storming down the footpath toward a familiar neighbourhood. She passes the stoop to their apartment building and keeps walking, for almost an hour, block after block, all the way down to the flea market along the Brooklyn Docks. She hasn't been here in years, not since the day her and the boys had come down here to get groceries for their mother.

Up ahead is the familiar curtained tent, with even more pamphlets and flyers flapping in the wind on the sides of it. She hurries over to it, past hundreds of Sunday shoppers, and barges through the tent flap into the dimly lit circular room. The soothsayer sits at her usual chair before a table of tarot cards and candles. She looks up slightly as Isabel enters, her charms and bracelets jingling as she moves. Her eyebrow raises expectantly.

"Um, hello," Isabel says rather anticlimactically.

"Come in and sit if you would like your future read," the soothsayer offers.

Isabel walks inside and sits opposite the dark-featured woman, staring at her below her scarves and mass of brown hair.

"What is it you seek?"

"Do you remember me?" Isabel asks quietly.

"Yes, child. It has been a while," the woman notes, looking up at Isabel with blue eyes under dark lashes.

"D-do you know about what happened?"

"I do."

"Okay, well. Um. I was hoping you could help me, that I could… I dunno… speak to them? To my brother and to Steve? They're gone, and you–"

"I can only see the future. I cannot speak to the dead," the soothsayer says in a calm, patient voice. "You need to find a seer for that."

"A seer?" Isabel asks.

"A medium. A psychic. That is something I am not."

"Oh," Isabel mutters. "Well then, I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'll just… go." She deflates at that, not knowing how she will find a seer, her hopes of speaking to Steve and Bucky near vanished. She collects up her purse and stands quietly.

The soothsayer looks up slowly, a small, unnerving smile on her face. "Did your brother catch his train?""

Isabel pauses, her back to the soothsayer, and slowly turns back around. "How did you…?" That was confidential information. She couldn't have read that in the paper. "You- you said that, before. You told Bucky not to miss his train. I–"

"And he was very good to not have missed it," the soothsayer notes, mostly ignoring Isabel.

"I-" Isabel pauses to collect herself. "That train was part of a war mission. Bucky fell from it while it was moving into a ravine in the Alps, to his death… Why would you tell him to get on a train that would kill him?" Isabel asks, her voice raising with anger.

"It was his destiny to be on that train. He would have been whether I told him to or not. But you are wrong, dear. He is not dead. Even a seer cannot help you."

"I'm sorry, maybe you didn't hear me," Isabel remarks angrily, standing over the soothsayer. "He had his left arm blown off and fell hundreds of metres into an icy ravine where his body was never recovered amid a blizzard. Of course, he's dead!"

"I saw his future, my dear. He is dar from dead. That train was not the end. He is alive. It may have been the end of the line of the train, but it was not the end of the line for James, or Steven, so as their saying goes. They will be reunited someday, and you with them. You are all following your rite of passage," the soothsayer reassures in the calmest manner, as if she were talking about an everyday occurrence.

Isabel sits in the chair, sinking into it as the news decends on her. "We-we'll meet in heaven, you mean?" Isabel clarifies quietly.

"No, sweetheart. As I said, they are not dead."

"I-I don't understand how they could have survived that?"

"They were given supersoldier serums, my dear. They are very hard to kill."

"How do you…?"

"There are many things I know that would trouble a mere mortal," the woman says cryptically, placing a hand over Isabel's. "Take my word for it. They are both alive, one maybe not where you expect him to be."

"Steve, he's in the plane?"

"Yes."

"Where?" Isabel asks frantically, learning into the table. "Please, you have to tell me where!"

"I'm afraid I do not know where, only that he is," she says, looking sad. "All I see is water and ice and cold. I cannot pinpoint a location."

"And Bucky… Bucky's at the bottom of the ravine? No, he could not be, Steve searched… Where is he? Bucky? James?"

"In my vision, I saw from his point of view. I saw him being dragged through snow and ice, and a trail of red blood on white snow. I saw a concrete ceiling, and chests around him as he is laid on a table. I saw a pin, the shape of an octopus-like creature–"

"Hydra," Isabel breathes. "Oh God, Hydra has Bucky."

"Yes, if that is what they are called. Your brother has been taken, and from what I have seen, his treatment is not humane. I do not know what they are doing but…" she trails off, seeing Isabel's face contort into worry and fear. "I fear you will be seeing him again much sooner than you expect–"

"I have to tell Peggy," Isabel gasps, jumping from her chair and running from the tent before heading the soothsayers warning.

The pavement is hard under her heeled feet as she runs back the way she'd come, block after block through Brooklyn back toward the SSR facility. She can see it in her head – telling of the news of Bucky, Peggy's face lighting up with determination, the search for Bucky, storming a Hydra facility and saving her brother. Bringing him home, watching him slot back into the family like he never left–

Suddenly, Isabel's fast walk is halted by a hand grabbing her by the wrist. She stops abruptly with the force, her shoulder locking painfully, and is pulled into the strong grasp of a man in all black, his face covered by a black shielded mask. Isabel tries to scream, but another set of hands grab her from behind, one over her mouth.

She is pulled backward, forcefully, off the footpath and onto the cobblestone street. She fights with all her might, but her strength is nothing compared to the men. They half-drag, half-carry her across the cobblestones and throw her into the back of a large armored truck. She lands with a painful thud on the metal floor, scrambling quickly to dive for the open doors. The metal doors and shut in her face, locking with a loud click from outside, and all light from the outside world vanishes, thrusting her into darkness.