39.

London, United Kingdom

March 11th, 1944

Only a few days after Hydra breaks into the SSR base, a group of US Army higher-ups gather in London for a meeting. They sit around quietly, discussing amongst themselves the events that transcribed in that underground bunker and how Captain America and his Howling Commandos had managed to once again save the day, stopping the Hydra agents from stealing damnable blueprints and notes from the laboratories of Howard Stark.

"Stark's invention was almost ripped from our grasp. If Hydra gets a hold of that damn gas, we'll never beat them. They'll be unstoppable, especially when paired with their weaponry they keep spitting out. They make guns that can disintegrate people and tanks into thin air. And did you hear about those motorbikes Rogers' found? They had damn flamethrowers and grenade launchers on the front of them. How can we compete with that?" One of the men says, looking at their superior.

"By making our own."

"Why did we even ask Stark to make that gas anyway?"

"And why did Stark even have the blueprints out? He chose to abandon Project Midnight Oil months ago; turned down a pretty big pay packet too," another says.

"Howard Stark," four-star officer General John McGinnis cuts in, halting all conversation, "is the best damn industrialist in this war, and possibly the world. We asked him to make that gas to keep our soldiers awake for days to give us an edge. He turned down the project, most likely because of the pressure of it. If it goes wrong, a whole lot of men are going to be affected all at once. My understanding is that Stark had the blueprints out because he was making amendments to the plane's design, thinking it could be used for transporting the Howling Commandos to their destinations much faster than our average planes. There must have been a Hydra agent on the inside of that base for them to find out about those prints. The SSR agents believe it was one of the men killed in Captain Rogers' pursuit, that they were undercover, but they are beginning a deeper investigation."

"What are we going to do then, General?" The first man asks. "Hydra knows that we have this gas. They're going to want it, and they won't stop until they steal our plans or recreate it themselves."

"That's true," McGinnis agrees thoughtfully.

"But did Stark's experiments even work?" Another asks. "Maybe that's why he put the project on hold, because it wasn't successful?"

"Stark's a genius, of course it worked," a third protests.

"I'm sure it worked, Stark probably just didn't agree with the pay and the pressure," McGinnis says, nodding his head. "Hydra wants to release that gas on their own troops? Well I got news for them; we're going to release it first."

London, United Kingdom

March 13th, 1944

Isabel gets a phone call to her room at nearly three o'clock in the morning, the phone ringing loudly on the receiver on the bedside table. She groans and rolls over, feeling on the table for the phone. She clutches it in her hand and holds it to her ear.

"'lo?" She answers groggily.

In the other bed, Peggy stirs with a grumble.

"Isabel? It's Howard," the male voice says, rather hurriedly.

"Stark? I told you not to call me in the middle of the night when you've finished a projec–"

"No, Barnes. It isn't that," Howard says seriously.

Isabel sits up at the sound of his voice. Howard never calls her by her surname unless it's something very serious. "Howard, what's happened?" She asks, her heart thumping in her chest. Her mind whirrs at all the things that could have gone wrong, but she has a suspicion that it has something to do with the infiltration of the base only a few days ago.

"I'll explain everything, I promise. Just… meet me at the tarmac. Wear your combat gear."

With that, the phone hangs up. Isabel stares at it for a second before she races out of bed. She stumbles around in the dark, throwing on her uniform, hopping on one leg as she threads her legs into her pants. She doesn't even know how she'll get to the tarmac – she'll have to take a taxi. There's be no drivers around this time of the morning. And should she go alone? Maybe she should wake someone to go with her, at least to escort her to the tarmac. She could wake Steve and Bucky, but they'd only insist on coming, and maybe Howard doesn't want that? She needs someone who'll take her to the tarmac and be willing to leave if they aren't needed–

"Isabel? What are you doing?" Peggy mumbles, sitting up in bed and frowning into the dark.

"Howard needs me to meet him at the tarmac. I think there's been an emergency," Isabel huffs, turning away from Peggy and taking off her nightgown, replacing it with her white t-shirt.

"I'm coming with you," Peggy decides, abandoning the warmth of her bed as well. That settles Isabel's question of who to bring along, though she doubts the agent will be willing to leave.

Peggy gets ready much more smoothly than Isabel does and the two leave their dorm room rather quickly, heading straight for the elevator. Isabel fixes her hair into a bun while the elevator descends toward the ground floor of the lobby, using the reflective walls of the elevator as a mirror.

When the doors open, the two women walk out of the building into the cool night air and manage to hail one of the lone black taxicabs to take them to the tarmac on the outskirts of the city. The drive is tense and filled with silence, the two women having no idea why the famed inventor would be calling them out to the tarmac at three o'clock in the morning.

"Maybe we should have gotten Steve to come," Isabel says reluctantly as they get closer to their destination. "What if Stark's being used as bait or something?"

"I must admit, I did think of that, but it's a little late now," Peggy says, as the car pulls up to the tarmac. She hands over the fare and opens her door. "I guess we're about to find out."

Peggy pulls out her pistol as they walk into the open field, keeping it close to her side, the flaps of her jacket concealing it from view. The women carefully walk across the tarmac toward Howard Stark, who sits on the ground beside their designated plane waiting for them with his head in his hands.

"Howard? What's going on?" Isabel asks, cutting through the silence of the field.

Howard's eyes snap up to meet Isabel's and then Peggy's, but he doesn't seem fazed that Peggy came along. Perhaps that was what he intended.

"Oh, thank God," Howard mutters, standing from his stoop and immediately pulling Isabel into a hug. "Something terrible has happened and it's all my fault."

"What?" Isabel asks, pulling away to look him in the eye.

"Get in the plane, I'll explain on the way."

"No, Stark, you'll explain now," Peggy demands, pulling Isabel away from Howard and glaring at him warningly. "We are not getting in some damned plane with you until you tell us what's going on."

Stark takes a deep breath. "Midnight Oil," he says on the breath out.

"Were the blueprints stolen again?" Peggy asks immediately, a harsh tone to her voice.

"No, no. Not stolen, exactly. A bunch of US Army officers came in the day they were stolen and said that all evidence of the project was to be collected up and given to them. I assumed that they wanted to put it into protection after what happened and I thought that best, so I handed it all over. I thought nothing of it."

"So, what's the problem?" Peggy pushes.

"The problem is that only an hour ago, I got word that the US Army released tons of the gas over our Allied troops in the trenches. They've been engaged in warfare with a German and Soviet battalion for months, have been in a stalemate. They thought the gas would give the Allies the advantage. It spread rapidly to all of them, the Germans as well. It was much more potent than I ever thought."

"But you said it wasn't ready?" Isabel breathes. "Why would they release it?"

"It wasn't ready and I didn't authorise the release," Howard agrees, running a hand through his hair. "I- The experiments, they were a failure. I tested the gas on myself while I was creating it, a small dose so that any effects would only be very temporary. I showed signs similar to extreme sleep deprivation – anger, hallucinations, psychosis. It was terrible and terrifying. That's why I decided not to hand it in. A smart idea by me, but I didn't go about it the right way. I stupidly let my own pride get in the way of telling the officers who commissioned it the true effects it had on those exposed. Instead, I just said that it wouldn't work. I didn't want to admit the extent to which I'd failed, and I was too scared of the effects repeating themselves to alter the formula and try again."

"So the troops…?" Peggy trails off. "There's been no reports other than the initial release?"

"No. I have no idea what would have happened to them with that amount and concentration of the gas."

Isabel and Peggy share a glance, before Peggy gets a determined look in her eyes. "Then we need to go now. Survey the damage," Peggy decides.

Howard nods and climbs aboard the plane, sitting in the cockpit seat. Peggy takes the co-pilot seat in the cockpit, leaving Isabel to strap herself into one of the passenger seats.

"Steve and Bucky are going to freak," Isabel mutters worriedly.

She watches through the small windows as the plane leaves the ground and ascends into the pitch-black sky, dark clouds eventually engulfing them.

The flight is smooth and short, the plane rumbling across the sky. They luckily don't encounter any enemy fire. Howard lands the plane in a large field somewhere near Finow in Germany. Once the engines have been shut down and Howard has switched off all of the necessary attachments, Peggy opens the cabin door once again.

She steps out carefully, pistol raised, but pauses at the sight before her. Isabel peers out as well and goes still, her eyes scanning the muddy terrain.

In the distant battlefield, over a system of trenches in No Man's Land, is a mass of bloody corpses of men, scattered around in clumps. They fall over one another, all of them stained red with their own blood and the blood from others around them.

Isabel pushes past Peggy and carefully makes her way into the field despite the voice in her mind screaming at her not to go out into the open without protection. She jumps over the abandoned trench easily and comes to a stop above the closest fallen soldier. He wears the Soviet uniform and a pair of dog tags around his neck, but his face is almost unrecognizable. It's been scratched to pieces, the skin hanging in flaps, his eyes bleeding from scratches that gash across the blue of his irises. Isabel puts two fingers to his neck to check for any signs of a pulse but there is none, and all she gets for her efforts is a hand coated in blood.

Isabel slowly stands and turns toward Howard, her face fallen. "Howard. What the hell happened?" She asks, her voice cracking and tears threatening to spill over.

Howard looks at her, and then looks around them, his face a pale green colour. Suddenly he's doubling over, throwing up into the grass by his feet. He falls to his knees and begins to rack with sobs, hiding his face in his hands.

Isabel keeps walking further into No Man's Land, unnaturally quiet for the middle of enemy territory. The lack of gunfire or explosions in the distance is unnerving. She checks a man every now and then, ones that look as though they may have been spared, but none of them have a heartbeat. They're all cold, indicating they've been dead for at least a few hours. Their eyes stare up at her in the low light of the moon, unblinking, and she feels her own stomach turn uncomfortably. She gulps it down and continues, making a round circle around the hundreds of dead soldiers.

Eventually, she clears the trench again and walks back to Peggy. "They're all dead, there's no survivors," Isabel tells her quietly. "But not from the gas. Their injuries are all external. I- Peggy, I think they did this to each other. The symptoms Howard described… the gas must have made them all attack each other."

Peggy stares at Isabel a moment, before she looks to Howard. "Stark, you need to work out what's happened here," she tells him, her voice lacking all sympathy. She's being authoritative, trying to snap Howard into gear, but it doesn't work. Howard doesn't move from his spot on the ground, but his sobs have diminished.

Isabel kneels down beside him, putting a gentle hand on his back. "Howard, this isn't your fault," she punctuates. "You didn't do this to these men. You didn't release the gas. You told them that it wouldn't work, and they didn't listen. All these deaths… They are not on your conscience. They're on whoever commanded those men to gain access to the blueprints and whoever commanded those planes to drop the gas, not you."

Howard looks up then, meeting Isabel's eyes. "That may be easy for you to say, but I still made the gas. If I hadn't even tried, this never would've happened."

"You can't be sure of that. If they wanted the gas bad enough, they could have commissioned someone else to do it. This is not on you," she punctuates again, pulling Howard into a tight hug. Howard hugs back eventually, resting his chin on Isabel's shoulder.

Suddenly, a voice speaks up from their right. Isabel jumps away from Howard and draws her pistol reflexively, standing beside Peggy, who's gun is trained on a man emerging from the trees. The darkness makes it hard to see him, but as he gets closer, they see that it is a Russian soldier, his eyes tortured and his face stuck in one of permanent terror.

The man spots Howard Stark on the ground and his face curls into one of anger. The soldier rushes Howard and grabs the inventor before Peggy can stop him, slamming Howard into the side of the plane with a loud, metallic thud. Howard cries out.

"What have you done?" The soldier snarls, his voice thick with his accent.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Howard immediately mutters over and over, tears flooding again.

The Russian slams him back harder into the metal, ignoring the gun that Peggy points right into the side of his head and her voice yelling at him to let go of Howard.

"You're sorry?" He snarls, laughing without humour.

"Hey! He didn't ask for the gas to be released. The US Army stole it from him and released it on their own terms. You're beating up the wrong man," Isabel growls, grabbing the man's collar and dragging him off Howard with a surprising amount of strength thanks to the rush of adrenaline.

The man stumbles backward but remains on his feet. He glares at Isabel, but his demeanour changes slowly. "Who released it?"

"General John McGinnis," Stark says with shaky breath. "He commissioned the gas from me months ago, but it didn't work so I scrapped the project and planned to never go back to it again. McGinnis obviously had other plans. He had the documents stolen from my laboratories."

"Do you know what your damned creation does?"

"I see it now," Howard cries.

"And I saw it while it happened. I was only spared because I had a gas mask to protect myself. My comrades were not so lucky."

"What's your name, soldier?" Peggy asks, not taking her gun off the man.

"Sergeant Johann Fennhoff, eighteenth infantry of the Soviet forces," he replies. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't threaten me," he growls, referring to Peggy's weapon.

Peggy lowers it slightly but keeps her finger on the trigger. "I don't take orders from you. What happened, Fennhoff?"

Fennhoff sighs loudly, running his hands through his hair. He looks around at the fallen bodies of both his men and his enemy. "My unit was trying to crush the German defences in the area," the man explains in a heavily accented voice. "We're all fighting, shooting back and forth, when all of a sudden these Air Force planes fly loudly overhead, and this green gas comes down from them. It engulfs us, and everyone starts to cough as they breathe it in. I was quick, I threw on my gas mask, but now I wish that I didn't. I watched as all the men went mad, hundreds of soldiers with seemingly one thought on their minds – to kill everyone around them."

"Everyone started acting like animals, biting each other, slitting each other's throats, gouging their eyes out and cutting their skin. I immediately ran to the tree line and hid, watching the madness unfold. I watched my friends and brothers and enemies die at each other's hands and there was nothing I could do about it without getting killed myself. Eventually, the field was like it is now, hundreds of bloody corpses. There was one man left standing, and he was rabid. He was looking around for something else to kill and eventually his eyes fell on me. He rushed me, and I shot him. Put him out of his misery and saved myself."

Isabel stares at the man, her eyebrows furrowed. No one seems to know what to say. Howard's face screws up further, his cheeks wet with salty tears.

"I've been here for hours, just waiting for someone to come around and see the damage. The Germans came first, a whole troop of them. They investigated the area and I hid up the tree. They saw the corpses and they took a lot of their dead back with them, as many as they could carry. Left the rest to rot, I guess, unless they're planning on coming back."

Even Peggy's breath hitches at the thought of the Germans returning without back up. Likely, they'll come after dawn, leaving them only a few hours to sort out their game plan. "What do we do?" Isabel asks Peggy.

"What do you do?" Fennhoff growls. "You make that McGinnis fucker pay for what he did to us, for what he did to my men and my brother. I don't want that man living another day on this Earth, not if it's the last thing I do."

Peggy sighs. "I understand your frustration, Fennhoff, but–"

"But nothing will happen because McGinnis is the golden child of the US Army and he won't be punished. Is that what you were going to say?"

"No," Peggy continues pointedly. "I was going to say that isn't in my power or in yours. But I know some people who may be able to pull some strings. I cannot promise anything, though. Besides, McGinnis is far from the golden child of the US Army. That right is reserved for Captain America."

"That comic book character? You Americans make me sick," Fennhoff growls, spitting a large pile of saliva at the ground by Peggy's feet.

"Good thing I'm not an American," Peggy retorts sourly.

"Go to hell, the both of you," the Soviet soldier snarls, pointing a finger at Isabel and Peggy. "And Stark? When I get to hell myself, I'll save you the finest seat in the house. Unless I see you sooner."

Stark's jaw drops at that, and he stutters through his tears, but no retort comes out. He leans back heavily against the plane and curls his knees up into his chest, resting his head on his arms.

With that, the Russian soldier disappears into the darkness, kicking rocks aside as he does, leaving the three to stand alone in the field and watch him go.

"Where is he going?" Isabel asks, watching after the man with both sympathy and disgust.

"He'll find somewhere to go," Peggy reassures her. "He's a soldier. They always find their way home."

Peggy and Isabel wait a few hours outside the plane. They pace back and forth and watch as the sun starts to rise worryingly on the horizon, awaiting the arrival of the support plane they'd radioed in for to help clear the area. Howard, meanwhile, hauls himself up in the cockpit of the plane and closes the door, taking the time to himself.

"Poor Howard. It isn't his fault, but he'll feel the guilt of this for the rest of his life," Isabel eventually mutters into the silence, quietly so that the inventor can't hear.

"Yes, he will," Peggy agrees with a sigh. "I just hope McGinnis gets the justice he deserves. That may put his heart at ease. Howard may make weapons, but there's a reason why he doesn't use them. He isn't made for killing."

"No, he isn't. No one is, really. No one is born a killer. It's learned."

"I feel like you're speaking from experience on this one," Peggy notes, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

Isabel sighs. "Since they joined the war, Steve and Bucky have done some pretty brutal things and lived to tell the tale. Nothing so gruesome as what happened here, but still, they've killed. So have I – granted it was only one life, but a life is a life. When I became a nurse, I vowed to do no harm to anyone, to only protect and help people. And so far in this war, that is mainly what I've done. Even when I killed that man, it was in the name of protecting Morita. Bucky and Steve do the same thing, just a little differently."

"That's true," Peggy agrees. "Steve liberated over three-hundred men when he saved Bucky from the first Hydra factory."

"Yeah, but he killed a few men to get in there in the first place."

"Those men are Hydra," Peggy points out.

"I know, I'm not defending them," Isabel defends, raising her hands in surrender. "What I'm saying is that it shouldn't be Steve and Bucky killing them. No one should have to kill. But the world is cruel, and it makes good people do horrible, unspeakable things. Steve and Bucky were born to be protectors, not killers. I don't think they were destined to do this, if you believe in that sort of stuff. Bucky may think differently now that he's grown used to this life, he may feel like he can't be the person he used to be, and maybe he's right, maybe he can't. But I think he's also forgetting that he used to cry when he was a kid if he squashed an ant," Isabel laughs, but it's a sad laugh that threatens tears. "The war makes people into killers, makes them into robots. Those men that have been fighting out here for months, years, even just days… They've just been turned into killers. If this wasn't a war, they'd be punished for what they've done. But it's okay here, because it's all in a quest for "freedom"."

Isabel sighs loudly, taking a seat on the steps of the plane's entrance. She doesn't look sad, so much as disappointed and contemplative. Peggy takes a careful seat next to her.

"I guess my point is a lot of these soldiers didn't get given a choice whether they killed or not. A lot of them were drafted, like Bucky. And Steve, well he didn't want to kill anyone, but he wanted to stop the bullies, and if killing them is the only way to do that then he'll sacrifice himself to save everyone else – he's always been that way. Howard though; he may help people kill, but he doesn't kill anyone himself. It's an indirect act, enough for him to be able to say he wasn't really involved. This though, this feels different. He's seen what happens at the hands of his weapons, he's seen the effect of his work. It makes it all the more real."

"I see what you mean," Peggy says quietly, feeling her frustration at Stark's reaction melt away.

"Just because you give someone the gun, doesn't mean they have to pull the trigger," Isabel says finally.

With that, Isabel stands and walks away from Peggy around the other side of the plane, pacing up and back as they wait for the second planes to arrive to clear the area and return the fallen bodies to their families.

As soon as Isabel, Peggy and Howard land back at the London airfield, there's a car waiting for them on the curb. Peggy leads them to it and they all pile in, the three of them squashed into the backseat with Howard in the middle. Isabel spends the car ride looking out the window at their surroundings. The buildings on the street they drive down show signs of their recent attack from when the Hydra infiltration saw bystander cars swerve into the buildings. Isabel flinches and looks away. Hydra may not have gotten their hands on the Midnight Oil Project, but the US Army has managed to do just as much damage with their own hands.

The car stops outside the building that houses the underground bunker, and the driver comes around to open Isabel's door. She climbs out and makes to enter the building. She has images of getting up to her room, taking a scalding shower that will hopefully wash away the dirt and blood, then collapsing into bed to sleep long enough that the images in her mind no longer have any meaning.

"Wait, miss," the driver calls out, waiting as Howard and Peggy file out. "I've been ordered to escort you straight to the meeting room. Colonel Phillips is waiting for you."

"Fine," Isabel says curtly.

The driver walks the three into the elevator, pressing the down button. The elevator rumbles as it descends and deposits them in the underground bunker. They follow him silently through the corridors, the bunker bustling now that it's well into the afternoon. They're instructed not to speak to anyone and to not make eye contact. They feel as though they're fugitives, and maybe they are; they did take the plane into enemy territory without permission, after all.

The driver knocks at the closed door of the meeting room, opening it when a gruff voice gives him permission to enter. "Mister Stark, Agent Carter and Miss Barnes, sir, as you requested," the driver says, before stepping aside so that the three can step into the room.

Isabel's eyes widen when she sees that all of the Howling Commandos are sat at the tables, Colonel Phillips standing at the end awaiting their arrival. Phillips looks calm and quiet, but it feels as though he's about to burst, rumbling like a kettle coming to the boil. He turns an icy glare on them as they walk in and Isabel hurriedly looks down at her mud and blood covered boots.

There's three seats left for them, and Isabel hurries to the vacant seat between Steve and Bucky, most likely left purposely for her. Peggy sits opposite Steve, Howard at the furthest end of the table from the angry Colonel.

Isabel avoids Colonel Phillips eyes, knowing there will be trouble for their actions. She sneaks a glance at Steve and Bucky on either side of her, expecting them to be mad, but instead they look extremely worried. She breathes out a sigh of relief at that, one less reaction for her to worry about. Bucky smiles sadly at her and takes her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Carter! Stark! Barnes!" Phillips all but yells in an explosion of anger, making Isabel jolt. "Since when did you three have permission to take a US Army plane and head into enemy territory? What were you thinking?"

All three of them are silent. Isabel peeks up at Peggy, and Peggy's staring with steely eyes at the table in front of her. There's also a slight fear to her features, as though she expects this to be the end of her career; possibly it could be, though it would be a great waste. Howard has his head in his hands again, soft tears escaping him. Falsworth next to him puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Isabel takes a deep breath. "We weren't, sir," she says honestly.

"You bet your bloody lives you weren't," Colonel Phillips snaps, pointing a gnarly finger her way. "You could have been killed. You could have been exposed to the gas yourselves."

"But we weren't, sir. We're okay," Peggy finally argues, sparing Isabel anymore shame in her terrible attempt to salvage the situation and diffuse Phillips' temper. "Howard designed the gas. I'm sure he wouldn't have allowed us to enter the area if he had any thoughts that we could be affected."

"Carter, you allowed a combat medic and an inventor to go with you into enemy territory without permission, without back up, and without even any form of soldier in your entourage. You were alone. You were under-powered. Who knows what you could have encountered at the scene. This isn't the first time you've disregarded protocol. You of all people should know much better," Phillips snarls, slamming his hands down on the table for emphasis and making the three traumatized persons jump in their seats.

"Goddamnit! With all respect, sir, go easy on them. They've just witnessed something you probably could never imagine," Dugan snaps from the other end of the table, making everyone go quiet.

Isabel's eyes widen further, if that was even possible, thinking Dugan will be punished for his harsh speech to his superior officer. Surprisingly, Phillips' glare subsides and he nods his head, looking away momentarily.

"I heard there had been an incident involving the Midnight Oil Project, even though I hadn't authorized it," Howard says in a voice just above a whisper, but everyone hears and all heads snap to the end of the table. "I just needed to see, sir. I needed to see what I'd done to those men."

"I understand that, Stark," Phillips says, quieter and collected. He takes a moment to ponder his response. "I'm sure the ladies have already told you, but it isn't your fault. McGinnis stole your blueprints from you under the guise of protecting them and used them without your permission and against his better judgement. He will face the consequences for his actions."

"Yes, sir," Howard replies, noticeably relieved by this information.

"What you all did was reckless and irresponsible," Phillips tells them. "But nonetheless, your encounter with the Russian Sergeant did reveal what happened to those men. Your statements are enough to see the General face disciplinary action. In that regard, it was worth it. Unfortunately, though, you all will have to live with the knowledge you've gained."

Phillips pushes off the table and paces around the table, coming to a stop behind Isabel. He puts a surprisingly comforting hand on her shoulder. "Everyone in the room has been briefed on the information I received over the radio from Agent Carter. They are all fully aware of the circumstances. If any of you need to talk about it, I expect that you discuss between each other. What you three saw out there and what you all learnt in this room – I trust that it will stay between yourselves…" Phillips is saying, but Isabel finds herself zoning out.

Her mind shows her flashes of the men's faces, slashed and gouged and bleeding. She squeezes her eyes shut and wills the images to leave her be, but it isn't enough. She puts her face in her hands and breathes deeply, praying that the tears don't come right now. They can wait until later. She just needs the images to stop, needs the memory of the smell to leave her mind. Seeing the bodies once had been enough.

Phillips looks at her worriedly, patting her shoulder gently. When he lets go, his hand is replaced by Steve's, and he pulls her toward him and into his side, rubbing her arm gently.

"You're all dismissed. And don't pull a stunt like that again. I've got enough paperwork to do as it is."

Steve hurriedly stands and drags Isabel up with him. He looks at her face quickly, seeing that she isn't crying as he'd thought but she is thoroughly shaken, wide-eyed and shocked.

"Come on, Belle. Let's go to your room," he whispers in her ear, and she nods.

"Rogers," Phillips says quickly. Steve turns toward him, holding Isabel's hand in his own. "Look after her," he orders, his voice a strange mix of fatherly care and authority.

Steve nods. "Yes, sir," he says with a pained smile.

Steve tugs lightly on Isabel's hand and she follows, the Commandos all winding through the corridors and piling into the elevator. They ride it up to their respective floors in silence, one or two of them clambering out at a time and down to their rooms.

Steve, Isabel, Bucky and Peggy are the last in the elevator. Isabel leans heavily against Steve's arm, feeling the weight of everything she's seen and the tiredness of her little sleep hit her like a ton of bricks. Steve feels her slump and grabs her tightly, practically dragging her down the hallway to her room. He turns back to Bucky and they nod at one another. Steve takes Isabel into her room, and Bucky allows Peggy to sleep in his own bed, taking Steve's. They both know that their ladies are going to need to vent to their men about what they saw and most likely have a good cry, and it would be uncomfortable to do so with others in their presence.

Steve opens the door and Isabel stumbles in, landing face down on her bed. He closes the door and carefully approaches her, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Belle?" He asks quietly, putting a hand between her shoulder blades. "You want to talk about it?"

Isabel shakes her head into her pillow. Eventually, she sits up slowly, looking at Steve. Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes water, and a second later she's crawling into Steve's lap like a child. Steve's cradles her to his chest and hushes her as she cries, rocking her back and forward comfortingly.

"You should've come and got me and the others, we should've come too," Steve tells her, but there's no harshness in his words like in Colonel Phillips'. "If we'd been there it may not have been so bad waiting all those hours."

"No, Stevie. You shouldn't have seen that. H-how long have you known we were gone?"

"I got the call about four this morning. The morning crew saw that the plane was unaccounted for and so were you three, they caught you leaving the facility on the cameras. We went down to the meeting room and I was just about to order another plane to take me to where the transponder said you were when Peggy's call came through the radio. She told us everything, then we waited the hours for you to return. It felt like an eternity, to be honest with you."

"I know."

"Tell me what happened?"

"They were all dead," Isabel sniffles. "H-hundreds of them. There was s-so many. They clawed and slashed each other to death. They were rabid. T-the man who was l-left, who survived. I-I thought he was gonna kill Howard, he was so angry. But Howard, he-he-he didn't want them to be k-killed," she says through her tears, barely audible.

"I know, honey. I know he didn't, it wasn't his fault."

"I-I t-told him that, but h-he didn't b-believe me," Isabel cries.

"It's going to take a long time for him to come to terms with what happened. It isn't your job to get him to see that, Belle. You just have to be a good friend like you always are and be there to support him, okay?"

"I-I will," Isabel promises, wiping her running nose with her hand.

Steve sighs, kissing Isabel carefully on the forehead. "You're tired, honey. You've been up for hours, you need to sleep."

"Okay," Isabel agrees, her eyes closing as she leans against Steve's shoulder.

Steve easily manoeuvres her around into the bed, resting her head on the pillow. He removes her muddy boots and tucks the blankets up to her chin. "Try not to think about it sweetheart. Leave it for tomorrow."

"Okay, Stevie," she mumbles.

Steve leans forward and kisses her forehead again before he turns to leave. Though, he doesn't exactly know where he'll sleep, considering Bucky and Peggy have occupied his room and he doesn't feel entirely comfortable sleeping in here alone with Isabel – not because he's worried about her and he knows nothing would happen, but more he's worried of what others would think, of their reputation. Sleeping beside each other in a tent in enemy territory or in a barn when the other Commandos are just over the other side of a stable door seems much different and more appropriate.

Steve's saved from having to sleep on the couch downstairs in Howard's lab when Isabel's hand shoots out to grab his wrist.

"Don't go, Steve, please. Don't leave me here alone," she pleads, starting to cry again.

All thoughts seem to go out the window at that. "Okay, I won't," Steve promises quickly, resorting to sleeping in Peggy's bed. He'll just wash the sheets for her tomorrow.

Steve takes his own shoes, jacket, shirt and tie off and pulls back the covers to Peggy's bed, but Isabel's hand insistently tugs him toward her own bed, weak but persistent.

"Belle, it isn't right," Steve protests, though he's well aware that they've shared a bed before back on the night of his mother's funeral.

"I don't care," she cries. "I-I can't–"

"Okay, okay," Steve gives in, unable to say no to her tears and pleading eyes.

He pulls her covers back and she slides over to the other side of the single bed as much as she can. Steve squashes in and pulls the covers back over them to keep the warmth in. The two of them are a little too squashed to sleep side by side thanks to Steve's larger frame. It's a far cry from the night in Brooklyn when they'd both easily fit on a single cot. Steve pulls Isabel partway onto his chest against his side, her body perfectly fitting into the curves of his own. He holds her tight, letting her cry and petting her hair, hushing her. She clutches him tightly like a lifeline.

Eventually her grip relaxes and the crying ceases, leaving a wet spot on Steve's bare chest. Steve continues to run his finger through her hair, hoping the action will remind her, even when she's in the land of her dreams, of where she is.

A/N: Anyone who's seen Marvel's Agent Carter knows that the Midnight Oil project and its effects is a major plot point in the finale of season 1 and that Johann Fennhoff returns in the series as the villain. That story line will definitely be kept and will come up later, however, the gas has come up earlier in this story. I felt that they needed more villains and issues to face rather than just the Red Skull and Hydra and Midnight Oil was the perfect opportunity.