28.

London, United Kingdom

November 13th, 1943

The first few days back in London after liberating the one-oh-seventh are almost hell for Bucky. Most of the freed soldiers are sent to their respective homes, taken out of active duty; they've all seen enough. A few of them hang around London, providing statements and any information they have regarding Hydra. Steve attends meeting after meeting, learning the ways of the Army and all about Hydra, working alongside Agent Carter to plan their attack. Isabel had been taken under the wings of both Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. While Peggy Carter got her into the base, Stark brought her to his labs to work on the super serum formula.

Meanwhile, Bucky doesn't take the events of the past few months well at all. He spends the first few days in bed, huddled underneath the covers of his bed in the dark. Steve is convinced that Bucky is asleep the whole time, a part of recovery Isabel tells him is vital, until he peeks under the blankets to check on Bucky and finds a set of wide grey eyes staring back at him.

"Steve?" Bucky asks, his voice hoarse from not using it. With his wide eyes and frightened expression, he looks almost like a child, and it causes Steve's throat to clog with emotion.

"It's okay, Buck," Steve reassures quickly. "I was just checking on you."

Steve puts the blanket back where it had been, covering Bucky's head. Steve thinks he hears a faint "thank you" but he can't be sure.

Bucky barely speaks or eats for days except when prompted to, particularly by Isabel who comes to check on him regularly. She does some checks on him that Steve doesn't pay much attention to and tries to force Bucky to eat a little of the food tray she brings him from the mess hall. She never looks very satisfied by the state of her brother. When he doesn't respond much, she sighs quietly, promising to come back later and for Steve to come get her if they need her.

On her way out one particular afternoon, Steve follows Isabel into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Is he okay?" Steve asks quietly, rather vaguely.

Isabel sighs again, running a hand over her forehead as though she had a headache. "Physically, yes. The injuries from his containment have all healed, bar a bit of residual bruising. Despite him not eating or sleeping properly, he's still relatively healthy. Strong heart rate, good blood pressure, his temp is okay." She leaves out how most of his is caused by the serum he was injected with, considering Bucky had asked to keep it quiet. "Mentally, though... well, I'm not a shrink, Steve. I can't say for sure."

"Could we really blame him if he wasn't okay?" Steve mutters.

"No, of course not. Honestly, if he weren't a little changed by it, I would be worried. It's going to take a while, Steve, but I'm confident he'll get better," Isabel says, giving Steve a comforting hug and hanging on until the tension seeps out of Steve's body. "I know it's hard to see him like this."

"I don't know how you're doing it," Steve says into her hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders like a lifeline.

"It's called disassociation," Isabel explains. "We learn it for nursing. It's a little harder to do when it's your brother that's struggling, but it's somewhat possible. And I have faith in him, as Peggy would say."

Bucky, always the protector and such a kind soul; it was hard to believe someone would do this to him, that God or whatever otherworldly figure ruled over them would allow it to happen to someone like him. Steve nods at Isabel's mention of faith, letting her go to her own room.

As hard as it is to understand why this inhumanity would happen, it's even harder to see Bucky go through the aftermath. Many nights, Isabel comes up from below where she's been working with Howard to see Bucky, and Bucky just spends the whole time under the blankets in a heap, his body heaving as he sobs. Isabel sits dutifully on the edge of the bed beside him and hugs him awkwardly, petting the top of his head where she can reach. Steve, who often follows her up, sits on his own bed and watches with a solemn expression that is matched by Isabel's own features, tears escaping silently from her eyes.

At night, once everyone is asleep and the world is silent, Steve and Bucky's room is plagued by Bucky's night terrors, which quickly turn into inconsolable and unchecked fear, which transition into hyperventilating and vomiting and lying shaking on the bathroom floor. The first time, Steve is terrified enough to consider leaving to get help, but Bucky clings to his arm and pleads with him to stay and not to tell, and Steve complies, hushing Bucky through the attack. Steve stays with him the entire time, holding Bucky when he requests it or leaving him to sit in a ball in the corner untouched when Bucky pushes him away. The seconds seem to slip by slowly as he waits for Bucky to breathe again, to stop crying and sobbing and wailing. Steve waits and waits with a saddened face, waiting for Bucky to work his way through what he's experiencing. When Bucky is finished, when the flashes and pain have subsided, he either wants to talk about what he's remembered or he's be so exhausted he slumps on the floor and Steve carries him back to bed.

A part of Bucky worries when he gets sick like that that it is a side effect of the serum. Steve doesn't get sick, and probably won't ever again, so why is he? But Isabel monitors him everyday and he finally manages to tell her what is happening to him, what his dreams do to his body.

"You aren't physically sick, Bucky. It's shell shock, most likely," she says. "Just like Dad had when he came back from the Great War. It'll get better, I promise."

Steve and Isabel know how embarrassed Bucky is by his situation, and they are very quick to reassure him that it's all normal and that he'll eventually be okay. They know that all they can do is be there for Bucky, hold him when he cries and make sure he eats and sleeps to regain his strength. They'll be waiting for him on the other side of what he is going through, like the silver lining of a cloud.

Eventually it pays off. As the days pass, Bucky seems to get a little better. The tears stop and the nightly panic attacks that Steve deals with cease, though the bad dreams and nightmares persist. Nightmares, though, are much more manageable and consolable than panic attacks. Bucky's shout always wakes Steve up. The two talk it out, and sometimes Bucky cries it out, before going back to sleep.

Bucky surprises them one morning by showing up in the mess hall for breakfast. He looks like he slept in the gutter - hair untidy, dark bags under his eyes, skin pale, the faint remains of bruises on his temples and pale scars on his arms that he hides underneath his clothes. Bucky eats more than he has in months, stuffing himself to the point that he feels unwell, but it gives him back a spark of energy he'd been lacking since he went into the trenches. Still, Bucky retreats back to his room right away, leaving Isabel and Steve to watch after him. The fact that he's left the room is a telltale sign that he is feeling better. It will take Bucky time to recover, and they all know that his recovery will include him coming to terms and accepting what's been done to him. They aren't under any impression that he is fixed, so to say, but he is definitely healing, a path that will likely be long but worth it. Steve and Isabel take it as a win and wait patiently as, every day, Bucky ventures out more and more, functioning once again.

When it becomes clear that Steve is starting up his own team and will be fighting Hydra, it seems to break Bucky out of his depressive slump. He showers and shaves and looks almost back to his normal self, apart from the clear lack of sleep. He washes and presses his uniform and throws it on, wearing it sloppily but at least wearing it, and he shows up for the meetings he is supposed to attend and reports on his knowledge of Hydra that he gathered whilst playing guinea pig. He also takes it upon himself to educate Steve in the workings of the Army. He corrects Steve's uniform when he wears it incorrectly, fixes his terminology, shows him how to salute, informs him of popular tactics and slang words used on the battlefield - all the information Steve should have learnt at the basic training he didn't actually attend. Steve is ever grateful to Bucky, who's been somewhat of a saviour. Along with those explanations, the two friends have been conversing the last few days about a potential team for Steve to work with to take down Hydra, but it's been nothing more than vague ideas and name mentions. Eventually, they decide on a time to sit down and flesh out a plan and a list of names, to which Bucky gives great thought.

The morning of their planned meeting, Bucky opens the door for his sister who's come to do her daily check of the effects of the serum. Even though Bucky had been frightened of medical equipment, he'd held up his end of the bargain and allowed Isabel to document the changes to his body from the serum. Even though she'd never said, he knows Isabel is also evaluating his mental and physical health, to which he is grateful. Once Bucky is up and about, talking and eating and somewhat sleeping, Isabel seems a little happier with his progress. She gets to work straight away and checks all of his vitals quickly, on a time limit since she's meeting Howard downstairs in less than an hour.

"I heard that some of the men from the one-oh-seventh are going to a bar called the Stork Club tonight to celebrate being liberated. I think they're hoping Steve will show up. You should go and have a drink or two. You deserve it, Buck," Isabel tells him after finishing her tests, packing up the medical kit.

"I've got to deal with the team first," Bucky says. "Steve has been asking me for my opinion on who he should ask to join, since I know all of the men. We're meeting later this afternoon to run over the potential candidates."

"Yes, Peggy explained that Steve was recruiting a team," Isabel says. "From the one-oh-seventh, though? Are they going to want to go back into the fight? They all got cleared to discharge themselves from the Army and go home," Isabel asks.

"I got cleared, too," Bucky mutters.

"Why aren't you going?"

"I'm staying here with you and Steve. If Steve's fighting, I'm going to fight beside him. I can't just let him go out there alone. He's fast and strong and smart, but he has no idea what's going on and what to do. I have to be there. Besides," Bucky says with a shrug. "It's the way it's always been. We've always fought beside each other."

Isabel nods at that, looking thoughtful. "You know, Steve wouldn't hold it against you if you left. He has no expectations of you to stay. If he knew you were offered to go home, he'd probably push for you to leave."

"I know. That's why I'm not telling him. I'm staying."

Isabel leaves Bucky's room and heads down into the laboratories to meet Howard. She and Howard sit on a stool each in Howard's designated laboratory in the Allied underground base in London, where they are going through Isabel's notes on Steve's vitals from the past few months. There's a lot of thing the two are hoping to do. Firstly, they're aiming to work out what the serum has actually altered in Steve's genome, since they aren't entirely sure of the effects of the serum. Having a scientific understanding of its effects on his DNA will be extremely helpful in determining the long and possibly short term effects on Steve's body and mental health, and may help them to monitor it into the future and prevent any changes.

They also want to know what the serum itself is, what the formula is, so that it can be recreated. It's become clear that Steve on his own is an incredible feat of strength and that he could do some real damage, especially at the head of a unit of soldiers, but if there were to be more super soldiers, the Allies could be unstoppable. Unfortunately, so far there's more missing links than solid groundwork, since most of Doctor Erskine's notes don't line up and a lot of it is coded or written in other languages. It's smart, since the entirety of the serum is not in one place or in one language and therefore cannot be easily duplicated, but it also makes their job all that much harder.

The scientist and the nurse are a little distracted at the moment, though, by the radio in the corner, which is currently tuned into the broadcast of a medal ceremony somewhere in the United States that Steve was supposed to attend to receive a Medal of Honour for his efforts liberating the one-oh-seventh from Hydra.

The Senator speaks in front of a small crowd of Army higher-ups, introducing the great Captain. "I am honoured to present this medal of valour to my personal friend, Captain America!"

Isabel snorts at that statement. Brandt had managed to get Steve to the front, but he'd treated Steve like a dancing monkey since day one, promising he would do good for the war effort and sending him on a country-wide performance tour. Brandt had played on Steve's naivety and determination for his own gain, and humiliated Steve in the process. He'd humiliated both of them, too, with his insinuating comment about their relationship to the press. Not to mention, his written speeches for the USO Tour had been so cringeworthy and sometimes, for the soldiers, disrespectful. It's safe to say that neither Steve nor Isabel hold the Senator in high regard.

There's a long silence over the radio before Brandt calls for Steve again, and then once more. "Captain, that's your cue!" They hear a scuffle and then another person comes onto stage, their whispered conversation only a muffle into the microphone.

Isabel and Howard laugh at the Senator's luck, feeling a little sorry for the man for his embarrassment. The Senator tries to play it off, announcing that Captain America was unable to attend the ceremony at the last minute.

"Steve is so bad," Isabel mutters to Howard, shaking her head.

"Like he was going to fly all the way back to New York to get an award when he's ready to fight on the front lines. If Steve leaves here, he'll be worried he won't be allowed to come back," Howard says.

"He'd find a way to get back here, don't you worry," Isabel hums in agreement, a little surprised by how fast Howard picked up on Steve's stubborn personality surprisingly fast.

"I need to get the blue cartridge your boyfriend found from the safe," Howard tells her, sliding off the stool.

"He's not my boyfri–"

"Whatever. You can say that all you like but I know better," Howard interrupts. "I want to analyse the cartridge later, though I already have some idea of what it is. You comin'? Or are you gonna sit here all alone?"

Isabel sighs, but gets up anyway. "I'll come."

Isabel follows Howard from the lab through the base, past the various men and women in their olive-green dress uniforms who look at her rather strangely. She thinks they may be actually looking at Stark, who's celebrity status brings him quite a bit of attention, but Isabel has a feeling it's because of her. She feels a little out of place, not just because she knows almost nothing of what anything on the walls and papers mean and isn't a colleague of these, but also in her navy-blue dress and kitten heels. She looks fine, but she sticks out like a sore thumb, so she'd endeavoured to at least wear her best dresses to make a good impression and look professional. She wasn't offered a uniform as she isn't working for the Army. Technically she isn't really working for anyone but the US government in monitoring Steve. Perhaps, if she was to begin working as a nurse or something similar, she would be provided with a nurse's uniform again. It would feel nice to wear the familiar white dress. She knows that may be pushing the boundaries, though. Since she isn't SSR or US Army, she isn't even supposed to be down in the base. Phillips had insisted she could monitor Steve from off the premises. However, Stark, Peggy and Steve insisted on it, so she'd been allowed to slip through the cracks.

Stark carefully retrieves the small glowing cartridge from the safe across the other side of the base and then they head back toward the lab. They come around the corner and see Steve and Peggy bent over a large map of the European continent, Steve marking off locations with a pencil.

"The fifth one was here in Poland, right near the Baltic," Steve mutters to himself, leaning forward to draw a squiggle. "And the sixth one was… about here, thirty to forty miles west of the Maginot Line." Another officer bundles up the map carefully and takes it away. "I just got a quick look," Steve says, shrugging nonchalantly.

Peggy raises her eyebrows. "Well, nobody's perfect," she says with a smile, making her way around the table. Steve puts the pencil down, following her just as Howard makes he and Isabel's presence known.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be picking up a medal right now?" Howard asks cheekily, making Steve's eyebrows rise in surprise.

Isabel waltzes up beside Howard, smirking at Steve. "We listened to the broadcast," she tells him. "It was disastrous. You threw Brandt to the dogs."

"Yeah, well, I've decided I'm officially off the press circuit," Steve explains, shooting a smile to Isabel.

"What a shame, he looked damn good in that uniform," Isabel whispers to Howard, making the billionaire splutter out a laugh. Peggy doesn't hear, busy watching Colonel Phillips as he approaches the group from across the room, but Isabel forgets about Steve's new enhanced hearing and Steve's cheeks go red at the comment, provoking Isabel's to go crimson as well. She has the urge to slap her own forehead.

Phillips appears beside them before anyone can reply. "Rogers," Phillips growls. "You just embarrassed a United States senator in front of a crowd of reporters and ten members of parliament."

Steve looks worried for a second, intimidated by the Colonel's hardy glare. "Sir–"

"You deserve a medal just for that," Phillips finishes with a laugh, handing over a case with the medal inside. "Brandt only had a plastic copy of the medal. I had the real one directed straight here. I knew you wouldn't be leaving."

Steve smiles proudly, feeling relief that Phillips is finally warming up to him. He looks down at the medal in its case, the silver gleaming in the dull light. He'll have to get Bucky to show him where to pin it on his uniform later.

"How are you two going with decoding the you-know-what?" Phillips asks Isabel and Howard.

"We're reviewing my notes from the past few months, sir," Isabel replies. "Trying to match them up to Doctor Erskine's past observations. That part is going well. Captain Rogers' transformation appears to be running of track and so far, remains permanent. Unfortunately, Erskine liked to hide his information all over. Not a lot of it makes sense and we're struggling to decode the formula."

"Keep working on it. If you need a linguist or a decoder or something you let me know," Phillips offers.

"Thank you, sir."

"You figure out what that is yet?" Phillips asks Stark, referring to the cartridge in his hands.

"If you believe Rogers and the other men's stories," Stark says, holding it up to examine it. "It's the most powerful explosive known to man."

"If?" Steve asks.

"Well, either you're wrong or Schmidt's rewritten the laws of physics," Howard mutters, pocketing the cartridge.

Phillips hums, eyeing Stark carefully. "You better get crackin', Stark. If they're rewriting the laws of physics, I expect you to as well."

"Swell," Stark smirks confidently, pocketing the cartridge once again.

"Speaking of weapons," Peggy pushes to Colonel Phillips, leading him to the map that Steve and her had been writing on earlier, moved to another nearby table. Even though they weren't exactly invited, the others follow and crowd around the map, curious.

"These are the weapons factories we know about," Steve explains to Phillips, pointing out the various dots. "Sergeant Barnes said that Hydra shipped all the parts that the POWs were working on to another facility that isn't on the map. No one is entirely sure where it is, not even the Hydra agents."

"Agent Carter, coordinate with MI6. I want every Allied eyeball looking for that main Hydra base," Phillips directs.

"And what about us?" Peggy asks.

"We're gonna set a fire under Johann Schmidt's ass. What do you say, Rogers? It's your map, you think you can wipe Hydra off of it?" Phillips asks, eyeing Steve critically.

"Yes, sir. I'll need a team..." Steve replies, standing just a little straighter. He hopes that Phillips will be open to the team he and Bucky have already been planning.

"We're already putting together the best men," Phillips reassures, not quite the answer Steve was hoping for.

"With all due respect, sir. So am I."

London, United Kingdom

November 15th, 1943

"Alright," Bucky says, smoothing out a blank piece of paper. He and Steve are sitting on Steve's cot in their shared room with the door locked at their decided upon meeting time, both dressed in their uniforms after a day of meetings. "I've seen all these men in action. Spent the last few months living right next to them. I know what they can do, who they work well with, who not so much. I gave it a lot of thought, and I've narrowed it down to these guys."

"Shoot," Steve says, listening carefully to Bucky's suggestions. Bucky's proven himself to have developed a highly strategic mind, with an eye for tactic and identifying the strength of each of his men. Steve can see why he's so highly regarded by the men of the one-oh-seventh.

"First up we got Private Timothy Dugan," Bucky begins, writing down his full name and credentials even though Steve will remember. He remembers everything nowadays. "We call him "Dum Dum" because he's a fucken' idiot. You'll get along well. He's the loud guy with the bowler cap and moustache combo who thinks he's some sort of comedian. Good guy, keeps the morale up. He's a transport specialist. He knows every car, tank and motorcycle, how they work, how to fix them, and most importantly, how to drive them. And he knows the routes. You need to get somewhere, he'll get you there."

"Okay," Steve says, waiting for Bucky to write all of that down in his messy scrawl. Luckily, he skips over the less-savoury parts and sticks to writing down the important information. Steve is sure he'll remember that Dugan is part of their comedic relief.

"The Japanese-American guy is Corporal James Morita. We call him Jim for short, and yes, he's from Fresno. He's the best medic in the field, saved me from dying from that bullet wound. A lot of these guys would have died if he hadn't been at the ready."

Steve nods. Bucky continues.

"Private Gabe Jones, the African-American guy. I know you aren't racist so it won't be a problem. None of the other men I've chosen are either, they all get along pretty well, especially now after they were all imprisoned together. Jones is a communications specialist, he works the radios. He's also fluent in French and mostly fluent in German, which comes in handy. Give him the transponder and it will never get damaged."

"I told you, Bucky, it got damaged in the fire–"

Bucky waves a hand at Steve's excuse and moves on. "Corporal Jacques Dernier. Little French guy. He's not a bad fella, but he doesn't understand much of what we say and we don't really understand him either, so I guess it works. He and Gabe are real close since they're really the only ones who can talk to each other. He isn't in the American Army, obviously, but I'm sure Phillips can pull a few strings and get him on your team. He specialises in demolitions. Helpful in blowing Hydra to the ground," Bucky says.

"What kind of demolitions?"

"Any kind. He can make his own bombs if he runs out. He carries around all these spare parts in a pack and he picks other things up along the way. As long as he's got a bit of C4 or some matches, he can pack a punch."

"Okay, he sounds good. I'll have to talk to Phillips if he agrees to join," Steve says. "Any more?"

"Just one more, he's an outsider too. Lieutenant James Falsworth, Monty for short. Technically he outranks me, but he's a Brit so we don't talk about it. He says you two are already acquainted, that he led you to the isolation room where Zola was keeping me." Steve remembers, the man with the maroon beret. "He specialises in tactics. He's strategic, knows where to go, what to do. He'll probably give your enhanced brain a run for its money. His ideas are quite out-there too and they'll probably just escalate into madness once he knows you're harder to injure and up for just about anything. He'll have you jumping from all sorts of places."

"Sounds like fun," Steve says sincerely, smiling. "That's a lot of people not with the US Army, though. It'll take a bit of convincing."

"Once Phillips sees these guys in action, he won't doubt the choices you make," Bucky reassures. He hands Steve the scrawled-on paper. "Apparently they're all going to be at the Stork Club tonight. I might even go too, if you want me for moral support. You should ask 'em there if they want to join, maybe buy 'em a few beers. I doubt many of them will turn down the challenge. And don't forget, you still owe me a whole bottle."

At the Stork Club well after darkness falls, Steve sits at large round table surrounded by a group of rambunctious men. He's walked around the bar tracking down all of the men on Bucky's list and gathered them all to the one table. All of them are either Bucky's friends from the one-oh-seventh or those they met whilst being held by Hydra. Steve knows they're an odd bunch, not all of them even American, but the varying roles will make them an unstoppable team. Next thing is to convince them to actually join.

"So, let's get this straight," Dugan slurs, his impressive moustache twitching as he speaks.

"We barely got out of there alive and you want us to go back?" Jones adds, his dark features pulled into an unsure frown.

"Pretty much," Steve admits, watching as the men take sips of beer and smoke cigarettes, emitting a cloud of smoke over the table.

"Sounds rather fun, actually," Falsworth says happily, tipping his hat toward Steve.

Dugan downs his entire beer, belching loudly. "I'm in."

Dernier and Gabe turn to each other and speak in rapid French. Dernier, the small Frenchman, laughs at his oddly-matched American friend and they shake hands. "We're in," Jones answers for them, putting an arm around Dernier's neck in a roughhousing manner.

"Hell, I'll always fight. But you got to do one thing for me," Dugan presses, eyeing Steve.

"What's that?"

"Open a tab," Dugan answers, to a roar from the other men.

Steve laughs and agrees, standing and taking their empty glasses to the bar counter, signalling to get the bartender's attention.

"Well, that was easy," Steve hears Morita say to the other men, chuckling victoriously.

"Another round," Steve tells the bartender, who clears the used glasses into the sink.

"Where are they putting all this stuff?" The bartender asks incredulously, filling another five pints of a local beer that Steve easily carries back to the table in one trip. Admittedly, some of the men look as though they're about to topple over, but Steve decides they need the chance to loosen up a bit, especially after they've been to hell and back and have just agreed to embark on a second journey.

He laughs as he walks away from the rowdy bunch, wondering what he's getting himself into with these men, making his way through a set of open double doors to the next room. This room is smaller and mustier, more intimate with moodier lighting, a man playing piano in the corner. The melody of "There's a Tavern in the Town" fills the room, the soldiers singing along to the lyrics happily, high on the effects of alcohol and survival.

Bucky watches Steve walk back in, having also listened to his conversation with his new team. Steve walks with his hands stuffed in his pant pockets, the way he used to when he was small, and Bucky finds it amusing watching him do it now in his uniform and new physique.

"See, told you," Bucky says, spinning around on his chair with a large grin plastered on his face. "They're all idiots." He takes a swig of his beer as Steve sits on the stool next to him.

"How about you?" Steve asks, settling into his seat. "You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"

"Hell, no," Bucky says easily, and Steve's face falls just a little at the prospect of fighting without his friend by his side. Of course, he'd never stop Bucky from going home. He'd been offered the ticket his first night at the camp in Italy, but he'd denied it. It was made clear to him the offer was always there. Steve can only imagine what Bucky's seen and been through. "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight," Bucky continues, both exasperated and nostalgic. "I'm following him."

Bucky takes another sip of beer as the bartender puts one in front of Steve. Steve smiles down at it, unable to contain the happiness at the thought of them fighting side-by-side, despite the danger.

"But you're keeping the outfit, right?" Bucky adds cheekily, leaning over toward Steve to ask.

Steve looks up to the ceiling, holding back from rolling his eyes, smiling at Bucky like he can't believe his friend. He raises an eyebrow and looks backward toward the poster of Captain America on the wall, his likeness saluting. "Tour cancelled until further notice," has been stamped across the poster.

"You know what? It's kind of growing on me," Steve remarks.

Bucky nods at that, smirking knowingly. "Isabel liked it, didn't she? The tight spangled uniform, the shield, those red high-heeled boots."

"Maybe she did," Steve says with a raised eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink innocently. "And they weren't high heels."

"Oh, sorry, I must have been mistaking you for one of the dancers."

In the other room, the singing of the soldier's slowly peters off. "And remember that the best of friends must part, must part. Adieu, adieu, kind friends, ad–…" Steve and Bucky look around the corner, seeing a familiar face walking slowly through the bar, her eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. Isabel's eyes fall onto the men around the table Steve just departed and recognises them from the return to the camp. She's also been told about them by Bucky when he'd been feeling a little more talkative, and recognises them from Bucky's descriptions.

"Hey, fellas," Isabel greets Steve's new team rather shyly.

"Hey, it's Baby Barnes!" Dugan says excitedly with a laugh, beckoning for Isabel to come closer to him. She does so with a frown at the new nickname she's apparently been gifted, stopping right beside Dugan who pulls her down into an empty seat.

"I don't believe we've been acquainted, though your brother has told us a lot about you," Falsworth says, reaching over to shake her hand. "James Falsworth, at your service ma'am. Call me Monty if you'd like."

"I'm Gabe Jones, and this is Jacques Dernier. He doesn't speak much English, but I can translate."

"James Morita," the Japanese-American man greets from across the table, only slurring slightly.

"Why are there so many James'?" Isabel laughs.

"Friends call me Jim," Morita offers.

"And I'm Timothy Dugan," Dugan says happily, "The best of all of 'em."

"Yes, I've heard about you," Isabel tells him.

Dugan throws his arm over her shoulders. "'Ave you? From Serge?" Isabel nods. "What'd he tell you?"

"He told me that you got yourself shot in the ass," Isabel smirks.

A rumble of laughter erupts from the men as they remember when Dugan took too long ducking down into his foxhole, the bullet flying into his left cheek. He'd screamed and howled as the others shot at the approaching enemy, and once he'd been taken for medical attention, had to lie on his stomach for a week. It hadn't been enough to keep him out of the fight, but he hadn't been able to sit down properly for a few weeks after he returned to the front.

"'Course he told ya that, no one's gonna forget it either. I like you, you're great."

"And I like you," Isabel reassures, laughing at his drunken slurring.

"That kid's great. Your brother, he's a good guy."

"I know he is," Isabel laughs, letting Dugan's arm slip from her shoulders clumsily. "It's nice to meet you all," Isabel smiles at them, laughing at their drunken antics. "I hear you're all joining Steve's team?"

"Oh yes, we can't wait to venture back into the depths of Hydra," Falsworth says. "Not to seem slightly insane, but it's actually rather invigorating. I'd even say it were fun. It's certainly better than being a pencil pusher."

There's a round of agreement and the men down another mouthful of their drinks, splashing the liquid all over the table.

"Your Serge and Cap are through there," Morita tells Isabel, pointing her attention through the double doors leading to another room, where she spots Bucky's face smiling at her as he leans around the door frame, watching her interact with the men.

Isabel smiles gratefully at Morita. "Go easy on the drinks, okay? It'd be a bit embarrassing if you had to be carried home," she tells Dugan playfully, getting up from her forced seat.

"Don't worry ma'am. I can hold my liquor well. I've never even had a hangover before," Dugan reassures.

"Yeah, I doubt that," Isabel laughs.

She waves goodbye to the men, who shout a chorus of goodbyes and other statements at her that all get lost in a mush of words.

Isabel walks through the doors, coming to a stop in front of Steve and Bucky who stand for her when she enters. Steve can't take his eyes off her, his eyes travelling up and down in awe. She wears a dress that's both striking and intriguing, demanding attention and capturing the imagination. Silver metallic sequins coat the top half of the dress, caressing her shoulders, contrasting with the black material of the dress. It isn't the least bit revealing, with a high jewel neckline and short sleeves, but it's enough to make everyone want to know more about the woman wearing it. Steve gets the feeling it didn't come from Isabel's usually quite conservative wardrobe.

"You like it?" Isabel asks shyly, looking down at the dress on her own person. "Peggy lent it to me. It's not what I'd usually wear, but…"

"I like it. You look swell," Steve stammers, smiling at her, his eyes flicking to her red lips.

"Stunning doll, like you stepped out of a Hollywood talkie," Bucky adds, making Isabel blush.

When she glances away to look around the room, Bucky raises his eyebrows at Steve, mimicking slapping him upside the head. "You can do better," Bucky mouths to him. Steve glares back.

"So, your new team is very friendly," Isabel notes, looking back to the boys in front of her.

"How'd you know I was recruiting them tonight, anyway?" Steve asks.

"A little birdie told me."

"Peggy," Steve says immediately. "I should've guessed. I saw you already met them out there. Surely, they must be slurring about now, they've drunk so much," Steve motions to the group.

"They're a nice bunch but I wouldn't want to be paying for the tab," Isabel observes. Steve sighs as he remembers the large debt he'll undoubtedly have. "They seem… interesting."

"They're interesting, alright," Bucky laughs. "You want a drink, doll? Anything you want."

Isabel orders and Steve moves to a seat further down, giving Isabel his chair. She sits carefully, accepting her drink from the bartender. Leaning behind her, Bucky gives Steve a thumbs up for his chivalrous move. Steve glares again.

"What do you reckon the boys would think about a woman joining their entourage?" Isabel asks offhandedly, stirring at her drink before sipping from the straw.

"Who's joining?" Steve asks carefully. Surely if Peggy were planning on working with them, she would have straight out asked and not gone through Isabel.

"Me," Isabel says simply. "I know you already have a medic, but it wouldn't hurt to have two. What if Morita gets injured? Who'll look after him?"

"No," Steve and Bucky say at the same time, a little louder than necessary. "That's out of the question," Steve adds immediately after, shaking his head. "No."

"You already dragged me to the front, Steve," Isabel argues.

"Being in the relative safety of the camp or the base is a little different to being out in enemy territory. I couldn't stand to see you hurt because you followed us into war."

"But I want to help," Isabel says stubbornly, a frown forming on her face. She glares at Steve, though she knows it's a losing battle.

"You can be just as much help from the base alongside Peggy and Stark. When we come back from a mission, we'll surely have some injuries; you can help us then. Besides, you're already doing your fair share in helping the war effort by working with Stark to replicate the serum. I won't risk it, I'm sorry. War isn't a place for anyone, and I'm not going to let you follow me and get injured or killed."

"You'll let me go, though," Bucky says casually, taking another sip.

"Buck, you don't have to feel obligated to come–" Steve starts, but Bucky starts laughing, cutting him off.

"I'm joking, knucklehead. Gee, that serum didn't give you any extra brain cells. But he's right, Issy. It's too dangerous," Bucky says, turning serious.

"I'm sorry, Belle," Steve adds, putting a comforting arm around her waist. He knows how it feels to be left out of things, to be rejected –he's experienced it all his life. He feels guilty for doing this to a friend when he knows all too well how it affects someone, but he also can't bring himself to put her in danger.

Isabel shrugs, obviously knowing that was the answer she'd get, smiling reassuringly at Steve.

The singing in the other room dulls once again, and Bucky and Steve lean around the doorway, spotting Peggy Carter coming toward them, wearing a plunging red dress. She draws attention the whole way through the bar, as well as a few catcalls and wolf whistles that surely are unappreciated by the dashing agent. Eventually she comes to a stop in front of Steve and Bucky, who stand politely to welcome her as they had with Isabel.

"Captain," Peggy says formally.

"Agent Carter."

Bucky, unsubtle as ever, looks Peggy up and down, getting a view of her backside in the tight-fitting piece of clothing. She turns to smile at him then and his eyes quickly jump up to meet hers. "Ma'am," he greets, wearing a confident smirk.

"Peggy," Isabel greets happily.

Seeing the agent is a welcome relief from all the testosterone and Isabel climbs off her stool to stand politely before her. Peggy surprises her by pulling her into a warm hug, something unexpected of the usually cool and calculated woman.

"I knew that dress would look perfect on you," Peggy smiles, admiring Isabel in it. "Keep it, it looks better on you."

"What? Are you sure?" Peggy nods her reassurance, making Isabel smile even wider. "Why are you all dressed up? You look stunning," Isabel asks, admiring Peggy's own daring dress, something Isabel would lack the confidence to wear, let alone have the money to afford.

"Howard took me out to dinner," Peggy explains. "I think he quite likes to flaunt his wealth. We also went for fondue." Steve's eyebrows rise almost into his skyline, and Peggy stares at him in confusion, not expecting the response. "Uh Captain, Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds good," Steve manages with a nod, recovering from his blush.

"I see your top squad is prepping for duty," Peggy notes, smiling at the singing men at the table, their beer spilling everywhere in their dancing hands.

"You don't like music?" Bucky asks.

"I do, actually," Peggy says, her eyes finding Bucky's. She smirks at him, a dangerousness in her eyes that makes Bucky breathless. "I might even, when this is all over, go dancing."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Bucky asks flirtatiously, stepping closer to the dazzling Agent. He looks at her admiringly and lustfully. "We can kick up helium on the dance floor, let loose for the night?"

Peggy pretends to think about it, visibly eyeing Bucky up and down, his uniform screaming that he defies the rules since he wears it sloppily with the tie undone and the buttons hastily fastened. "As tempting an offer that is, Sergeant Barnes, I think I'll wait for a better choice in song," Peggy decides, flashing a flirty smile at Bucky. "0800, Captain," she says, as she turns and walks away toward the exit.

Isabel and Steve watch the exchange with open mouths, the attraction and flirtation seemingly developing out of nowhere. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be there," Steve slowly calls after her, his eyes flicking between the two like a tennis match.

Bucky watches the agent leave with a frown. "Did she just reject me?" Bucky asks, turning back to his friends. "I swear we had a connection, and then she just…" Bucky trails off, his hands miming walking toward the exit.

"She didn't reject you, Buck. She's playing hard to get," Isabel reassures, staring after her friend in admiration of her strength, the eyes of all the men following her once again.

"I'm invisible. I'm… I'm turning into you. It's like some horrible dream," Bucky tells Steve with a laugh, both joking and serious.

"Don't take it so hard," Steve says, patting Bucky on the shoulder. "Maybe she's got a friend."

"The great Bucky Barnes, eternal womanizer, can't stand a game of tag," Isabel laughs.

"Never liked those childish games," Bucky says, picking up his beer. "I see what I want, I get it."

Isabel shakes her head at her brother, who smirks at them and walks away to go converse with his new team, taking his beer with him. The rejection doesn't seem to get him down for long. No doubt, he's planning out all the ways he could sweep Agent Carter off her heel-clad feet.

Bucky leaves Isabel and Steve at the bar, sitting on their stools. Steve's on his sixth pint of beer and he isn't even feeling a buzz.

"Bucky's got moxie," Isabel notes, turning back to Steve. "Flirting with Peggy Carter."

"He only asked her to dance," Steve laughs.

"No, Steve. Didn't you see the way they looked at each other?"

"Yeah, like they wanted to eat each other," Steve laughs.

"Hmm, possibly," Isabel says quietly, picking up the sexual connotation Steve inherently missed. "That's called lust. It comes with flirting."

"I know that," Steve says stubbornly, as though Isabel had been speaking to a child. "But it isn't love."

"Well no, but they don't know each other. You can only love someone you know. That love at first sight thing, it isn't even possible. I mean, I think people could be destined to be together, but it is never love at first sight, they have to get to know each other first. How can you love someone when you only know what they look like, when you don't know what's on the inside yet?"

"I suppose you can't," Steve says quietly, avoiding Isabel's eyes.

"One dance – that isn't love. That's just a bit of flirting. It's when you dance over and over, one dance after the next. When you keep going back to the same partner every time because you can't imagine dancing with anyone else. Next thing you know, you're so used to being close to one another and you've fallen so far in love that you can never pick yourself back up," Isabel says quietly.

Steve just stares at her, an underlying message to her words sinking in. She finally looks up at him to gauge his reaction, her eyes wary, but truthful.

Steve feels a rush of courage surge through him. "Why don't we go dancing? When the war's over?"

Isabel looks taken aback by Steve's confidence, stammering a bit for words. "Why don't we right now?" She counters, her eyes flicking to the couples dancing over in the corner, makeshift dance floor.

"I still don't know how," Steve admits sadly.

"I've offered to teach you many times," Isabel reminds him.

"I know. I want to. But I'd like to watch the others first, see how it's done. I'd rather not learn in front of everyone."

Isabel watches him for a moment. Whether he means he literally doesn't want to learn to dance in front of everyone at the Stork Club, or whether he means in his entire time as Captain America in the spotlight during the war, Isabel doesn't know. He had asked her to dance after the war. She decides to focus on that.

After a second Isabel nods, though she looks slightly dejected. "Fair enough." She takes a long, final swig of her drink, putting the empty glass back down on the counter with a clink.

The two sit on the stools and watch the couples, the way they intimately sway back and forth to the rhythm, the way the men throw the women into spins and twirls and dips. Isabel notes a predatorial hunger that seems to lurk in the men's expressions, a lust to protect the women they've snatched up. She looks to Steve then, realizing he's always held that same hungry, protective expression in regard to her, she'd just never noticed it.

"I always hoped I'd find the right partner," Isabel says with a content smile, flicking her eyes back to the dancers.

Steve looks at her at that, and she can see him out the corner of her eyes staring at her in amazement. She eventually makes eye contact, catching him out, and he blushes profusely, dipping his head as he smiles to himself. He eventually meets her eyes again, and this time she smiles back at him, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.