Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Day One
“Hey, before I forget, nice job with the explosives, Jones,” Bucky said, slapping the black man on the back as the jeep they had all hitched a ride on screeched to a halt on the streets.
As the Howling Commandos climbed out of the jeep – naturally with Steve thanking the driver for the ride to an ordinary-looking building – ordinary civilians going about their business could not help but gape at them. It was not that they were used to seeing soldiers being dropped off or picked up by the military jeeps and other vehicles that traveled through this thoroughfare constantly, but that the Commandos in particular were absolutely filthy.
Caked mud of a variety of colors from red to brown and black, along with soot, ash, and even bits and brambles of hay were stuck on every single one of the soldiers. Most of the Allied soldiers the civilians usually saw going about their business in this quarter of the city were at least somewhat clean-looking, even when wearing their combat uniforms.
To what unit these particular group of soldiers belonged to was difficult for them to identify, if not for the fact that a circular shield sat in rear of the jeep. That object was as iconic as Captain America himself, and was in the midst of being lifted out of the back of the jeep, as the Commandos all jumped out.
It was only by that shield, being picked up by a tall man who was covered as equally in the same filth as his fellow soldiers, that the civilians living in this area identified them. They wondered what had happened to have all of them, including the brave and handsome Captain America, to have arrived here as so. None got to ask as the Commandos entered the building laughing and enjoying whatever success had happened on their mission.
It was only after they had passed those manning the front and the security of the place, and made their way below, that someone finally said something. “What in God's name happened?” Colonel Chester Philips demanded, as soon as the Commandos clambered down and into the secondary area of the underground bunker-base.
“Mission success,” Bucky heard Steve answer, seeing a rather cocky grin appear as Steve lifted his cowled helmet off of his head.
A rather large chunk of dried mud that had been stuck on it and over a portion of his shoulders of his uniform went with the helmet as well. It made the cowled helmet look more like an armet with an aventail. Bucky had to thank his sister Becca in his next letter to her, for her fascination of old European history, to be able to identify what it looked like.
Steve then gestured for Dernier to sling from his back the pack he carried. The Frenchman thunked the pack on top of the nearest table and began pulling out thickly folded sheets of paper. Steve said, “We also found some maps that should be useful, sir.”
He could see Philips considering his words for a moment before merely nodding and said, “We'll debrief after you and your team get cleaned up, Captain.”
“Yes, sir,” Steve said, saluting with just enough of a proper gesture to not just be a casual hand wave.
Bucky could not help but snort in laughter, though he managed to cover it with a hand over his mouth and by ducking his head. They made their way down the hall to where their regular uniforms had been stored, and where could clean themselves up. In the midst of walking, Bucky had dropped the hand, and let the open grin he had on his face show.
They had every right to be happy – the mission was a tremendous success. By the estimates that they had received before setting off on the mission, they had set HYDRA back for several months, if not at least a year. If getting covered in filth was the worst that they had received in retaliation, then he wasn't going to complain.
Stripping themselves of their weapons, gear, and filthy uniforms did not take long. However, per protocol, they had to carry their weapons and accessories back to the engineering laboratories – only after they had roughly cleaned them off the mud, brambles, and leafy accouterments they had decorated them with. It had been necessary to do so – to cover anything and everything that could reflect light – so that the ambush advantage was theirs. The engineers would then strip the weapons of the modifications made, and return the standard parts to 'the cage'.
'The cage' was the general storage area for all of the firearms that the SSR possessed. Most of the enlisted personnel had a rotational cleaning duty to clean the weapons stored there – ensuring readiness at any moment. The only weapon that never went into 'the cage' was Steve's shield. That stayed down in the engineering labs, due to Howard's request. At the moment though, Bucky saw Steve shut the shower off, with the circular shield rinsed of its mud layer.
Falsworth handed Steve a clean towel to dry it, and Bucky briefly glanced back down at his cherished and favored sniper rifle, grinning. He had named the rifle 'Vera', and had specifically told Howard and the other engineers not to correct the tiny divot at the end of the barrel. While the divot was technically out of regulations, no one, not even Colonel Philips himself, had said anything about it.
Freshly cleaned and feeling quite human again, the Commandos took the connecting underground tunnel from the building that served as the primary front of the SSR Headquarters to Howard's labs. Because of the incident in Brooklyn, for security purposes, a keypad lock combination – built by Howard no less – installed on both ends of the underground bridge, was needed to get out of the locker area and into the labs.
There was another direct way into Howard's labs, and that was used by almost everyone else. It was only because the Commandos had not wanted to wade through the entire SSR just to get to the main entrance to the labs while carrying their gear, that this specific underground tunnel had been built. It offered a more secure way for Howard's creations to not be seen by too many people. Bucky had initially found it slightly ridiculous that a covert intelligence agency had this many layers of secrets buried under secrets, but then fighting HYDRA in the field had changed his mind.
They dropped the modified weapons off on the far end of the labs, careful to not just haphazardly throw the weapons into a pile and let the engineers sort it out. As much as some of the other field teams had done that, Steve always openly praised and appreciated with Howard and his team did.
Bucky had no opinion on it, other than the fact that most of the modifications had given them slight advantages against HYDRA. Therefore, he made sure that at least DumDum, Dernier, Falsworth, Jones, and Morita return the weapons as they had found them – mostly. None of them could help it if a weapon was returned bent or broken.
Surprisingly though, Howard wasn't in the primary lab at the moment. Even stranger as Bucky placed his sniper rifle down across the rear of the long assembly table, there seemed to be a melancholic air hanging around the entire lab. Some of the engineers were still working on whatever they were doing at their stations, but there were at least two clusters of three engineers standing next to machinery, just talking.
“Thank you for returning the weapons, sirs,” the respectful, youthful voice said from their right.
Bucky glanced over to see a young engineer, most likely not quite yet twenty, emerge from the adjacent room that had contained the sample of the strange glowing blue weapons that HYDRA had. The room had been converted into something else after initial testing had shattered the protective glass in the testing area.
The engineer had a slightly unhealthy thinness about him that looked as if he could easily snap in half. The only reason why Bucky had noticed was not because the engineer had golden-brownish hair and grey eyes, but because of the way the young man was built, was similar to Steve – before the serum. The voluminous white lab coat that the young engineer wore hid most of him, but it was the pencil-thin, spindly fingers, along with a gauntness in the young man's cheeks, and thin neck that gave it away.
Bucky had worried over Steve constantly before the serum had transformed him – enough to know and see the subtle signs of someone not in good health, in another person. He found himself slightly concerned about the engineer, but knew that he had to push that concern aside. This young man was one of Howard's employees, and he knew just how well-treated Howard made sure that his engineers were. Howard most likely was already aware that this young man was not in good health, and could only assume that the young man had come into work today because of something or another.
“Yeah, no problem,” Steve answered, and a couple of the others echoed their thanks as well. “Is everything all right, here? I thought Howard's usually around during this time of day.”
“He's... away,” the engineer answered, looking a little uncertain, if not as shy – if not more – than he had seen Steve at his shiest. “If you have any concerns, please talk to Colonel Philips, sir.”
“All right,” Steve said, nodding. “If you see Howard, please let him know that the team did a great job. The modifications worked like a charm.”
“I will, sir. Thank you,” the engineer answered, brightening ever so slightly, though the melancholic air still hung around him.
Bucky wasn't the only one to notice the slight outward change in the young man's demeanor, as he grinned slightly. It seemed that personally hearing praise from Steve 'Captain America' Rogers, was enough to melt the stammering shyness of almost anyone.
Almost.
He knew that Steve was still incredibly shy around most of the women, acting mostly flustered and sometimes incoherent whenever they tried to talk to him. Some of their fellow soldiers or even the MPs expressing their admiration for Steve also contributed to Steve's shyness. However, Philips kicking Steve above ground to do so many public relations and briefings with the brass was quickly helping Steve overcome that shyness.
“Your name, Mister...?” Steve asked, extending a hand out, smiling.
“Um, David Brewster, sir,” the young man said, blinking in surprise before reaching out to shake Steve's hand.
The two let go after a few moments, as Steve said, “Well, it's good to meet you, Mr. Brewster. I'd rather stay down here, but there's a debriefing that we need to get to.”
“It was honor to meet all you, sirs,” Brewster stated, nodding in understanding. “I'll be sure to pass on your message to Mr. Stark.”
They left after that, and headed up to the main floor. Philips was already at the war table when they arrived, though he looked to be busily pouring over the maps. Lorraine was sitting next to him, taking a copious amount of notes. Peggy was not present, and that gave all of them some pause. She was normally a constant at the briefings and debriefs. For her to not be here was odd—
“Have a seat, Commandos,” Philips stated without looking up from the maps and reports they had snatched from the communications hub in their mission, while pointing to an area on the map for Lorraine to make a note of. “Agent Carter is currently dealing with other matters that need not concern any of you.”
It was blunt, but it got the point across, like so many other times Philips spoke. As abrasive as he was, Bucky had no real opinion on the SSR commander, other than the fact that Philips knew where to apply the right pressure on and off the field to get things moving. Whether it was logistics, personnel, or even information that none of them had prior knowledge to, Philips was an effective commander in all aspects of that. Of course, that did not mean that he or the Commandos got along with him – they some times didn't, and made their disagreements with the actions that Philips wanted to be taken, known.
Philips wrapped up whatever he was doing with the maps and reports, and the briefing started as one of the code breakers working in the main section of the SSR facility and not the pool today, came over. The young woman was nothing to write home about, with plain brown hair and brown eyes. Yet, for some odd reason, Bucky thought he saw the same kind of melancholic air around her that almost matched that of the young engineer, David Brewster.
In addition, there was a slight puffiness around her eyes. It was subtle enough that what little makeup she wore tried to conceal it, but Bucky had enough up close experience with helping his sisters put on their makeup that he could see it.
The briefing was short, mostly due to the fact that what they had accomplished in objectives, and what they had brought back was a lot for the SSR to digest and process. There was also nothing much to say about the state of HYDRA, especially for their weapons and soldiers, since it seemed that the Red Skull's advancement was effectively stymied by the SSR and 107th. What Bucky and the others had encountered in their mission was mostly the same in terms of tech, even if the tactics used by HYDRA seemed slightly desperate.
“Good job,” Philips stated, wrapping up the briefing. “Before you all run to the pub, some orders have come in, namely regarding you, Captain Rogers.”
“Sir?” Steve questioned, sitting up a little straighter than he already was sitting at.
“Pack your overnight bag, Captain. The OSS is requesting your presence for the next three days,” Philips stated. “I've granted it to them. Corporal Evans upstairs will bring you to their headquarters outside of the city.”
“Understood sir,” Steve stated with absolutely no inflection in his tone. Bucky could hear the trace of disappointment, as Steve was slightly disheartened that he would not have a chance to see Peggy until he returned from whatever the OSS wanted him for.
“And that means, the rest of you have leave until your commander returns,” Philips stated, as Bucky saw Lorraine handing over five slips of paper to her commander.
“I'll remain behind,” Bucky immediately volunteered, before the cheers of his fellow soldiers could get loud enough.
It was protocol for each team, including the seven of them, that one member of a field team remained behind at the SSR Headquarters as a relay, whenever the rest were on leave. Normally, that was usually the commander of the team, since fraternization between officers and non-coms were generally frowned upon in the Army. Bucky liked to think that because the Commandos were the most effective team of all the teams in the SSR, Philips never reprimanded either of them when it came to him and Steve completely disregarding the fraternization rule.
It was also for security purposes that the teams were not completely clustered in one area together, as HYDRA had begun putting out notices to ordinary citizens of the various towns and villages that they had occupied, with photographs of SSR strike teams. The most prominent one was Steve and the others of the Howling Commandos.
Despite going to various 'safe' towns and cities for leave, they all knew that HYDRA had spies everywhere and watched their movements as the SSR mapped and watched HYDRAs. Leaving a man behind did not completely diminish the threat that HYDRA would do something to those on leave, but it helped those on leave slip away easier, if the situation called for it. It also gave HYDRA somewhat of a less incentive to go after an incomplete team.
“Again, friend?” Falsworth asked, looking slightly concerned.
“Hey, I'm getting a hell of a lot more sleep without any of you around,” Bucky retorted, though he was grinning as he said it.
“Your loss, Barnes,” Jones said, sharing an excited grin with Dernier. “More women for me and Dernier, then.”
Bucky shook his head slightly in amusement, as it was clear the debrief was over. The young code-breaker and Lorraine had both left first, with Lorraine taking more than half of the maps and reports that had been sitting in front of her. Falsworth and the others stood up, he along with them, as they picked up and murmured their thanks to Philips for the signed leave passes.
It was only after Bucky noticed that Steve was not following them, that he paused and turned back, asking, “Steve? You coming?”
“In a moment, Bucky,” Steve answered, before returning his attention to Philips, still at the table. “Colonel Philips, a word please?”
“Yes?” Philips answered, pausing in collecting the rest of the maps and reports that Lorraine had not taken.
“A young engineer working downstairs, David Brewster, said that I should ask you about Howard. Is he all right?”
“Mr. Stark is fine, Captain,” Philips answered, pausing in his actions, and flicked his piercing eyes up, looking directly at Steve. If Bucky could feel unusually unsettled, he did, as it seemed that Philips's gaze was also directed at him. “He will not be returning until well after nightfall, and well after you're supposed to leave, Captain. Whatever you have to talk to him about, will have to wait until you're done with the OSS' request.”
“I understand sir,” Steve answered, “but is it anything that I could help with? I know some of the other commanders were asking him a lot of questions the last time—”
“One of his employees committed suicide early this morning, Rogers,” Philips interrupted, looking annoyed. “Because the engineer is a part of this organization, Agent Carter is helping coordinate the investigation with Scotland Yard. If you have anything you need to discuss with either of them, it will have to wait until you've returned.”
Philips paused for a moment before asking in a shorter tone, “Is there anything else, Captain?”
“What was the engineer's name? So that I can give Howard my condolences after I return?” Steve asked.
“Thomas Hattersfield,” Philips answered. “Anything else?”
“No, sir,” Steve answered crisply, giving Philips a salute. “Thank you for the information, sir.”
“Dismissed,” Philips stated.
Steve obeyed the order, but Bucky could see a slight puzzlement on his best friend's face. He didn't say a word though, and silently walked beside him back to the barracks portion of the base. Unlike most Army barracks, the officers were quartered with the NCOs by teams and functions. The only exception was that Colonel Philips had his own private quarters elsewhere on the base. Not only did it fostered a better camaraderie between the teams, it allowed all of them to swap stories, tips, and other things about fighting HYDRA, easier.
Steve had schooled his expression to more of a neutral look as they saw Jones and the others approaching from the other end, overnight satchels packed and ready to go on their three-day leave. Bucky grinned and slapped their hands as they passed by, giving Dernier a mild look as the Frenchman ribbed him slightly for remaining behind – again.
It was clear that Philips had given Steve – and him, since the man did not dismiss him at all – the information about Howard and what had happened, in confidence. Despite being an incredibly difficult commander to work with, Philips had not wanted to ruin the good mood of the other Commandos. For that, Bucky's respect for the officer went up a slight notch.
It was also clear that the fact that most, if not all of the SSR knew about the suicide, which explained the melancholic air in the area. It seemed that Howard's engineer was a popular man around, which surprised Bucky slightly. As far as the impression he had gotten from Howard's engineers was that they were more interested in gadgetry and creating various things to help the teams, than socializing. Howard was the only one whom he knew who openly socialized to the extent that everyone knew how notorious Howard Stark was, when it came to womanizing.
Bucky paused at the entrance to the bunk room that the Commandos slept in, leaning against the door frame. His and Steve's bunk bed was the first within the room. Like their arrangement back when they had shared an apartment in Brooklyn, he had taken the lower bunk, while Steve took the top. At first, both of them had thought that perhaps they should have taken separate lower bunks, but it seemed that the bunks were built solidly enough that it was able to hold Steve's weight on the top.
“Hey, Buck?” Steve asked after a few moments of packing his neatly folded uniforms into an overnight satchel.
“Yeah?” he answered, watching him continue to pack.
“Can you see if Howard and Peggy are really okay?” Steve asked, finishing his packing. “I'm finding it a little hard to believe that Peggy is needed for coordination with Scotland Yard into the investigation of a suicide.”
“They are London's police force, Steve,” Bucky pointed out.
“Yeah, I know, but something doesn't feel right,” Steve said, taking up the sack in his left hand, as he stood back up and looked at him.
“Gut feeling?” he asked, frowning slightly. It was very rare that Steve had hunches – the idiot almost always ran into a fight on the fly, back when they had been growing up. Yet, strangely, every single time that happened, Steve's hunch turned out to be right.
“Yeah,” Steve answered.
“Don't worry, punk,” Bucky said, slinging his right arm across Steve's shoulders and thumping it with his open palm. “I'll make sure.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, returning the embrace before letting go and made his way back through the maze of the SSR's halls to get to the main entrance. “So what exactly are you going to do with the free time?”
“Hey, I was telling the truth back there, Steve,” Bucky said, as the climbed the stairs up and into the short hall that separated the secondary exit-entrance with the primary one. “I'm going to make sure I get some much-needed sleep. You all snore too loudly. It's a wonder that our enemies don't find us by sound.”
“I don't snore,” Steve stated, looking slightly offended as Bucky pushed the lone doorbell-like button on the right hall wall. The wall at the end of the short hall seemingly spread open enough to let both of them through and into the noise of the main floor.
Whatever either of them were going to say to each other, was cut off as they were enveloped in the seemingly chaotic noise that encompassed the first floor of the building that the SSR operated within. Fortunately, very few of those around this area paid attention to them, as they were used to seeing Allied personnel walking in and out of the area, and within the building's above-ground floors.
A fresh-faced, mousy-looking non-commissioned officer who wore a regular-issued Army uniform that had nothing except for a strange-looking insignia attached to his lapels, stepped up to both of them. “Corporal Evans of the OSS, sir,” the man stated, extending a hand out for Steve to shake. “I was told to expect only you.”
“It's all right, Corporal,” Steve said in a genial tone, briefly shaking the man's hand before letting go. “Bucky is only here to see me off.”
Bucky grinned in response to the shrewd look that the OSS non-com had given him, though there was no humor or kindness that reached his eyes. He had heard of the OSS in passing, mainly because of their incessant intrusion into trying to take over what the SSR was doing.
According to the rumors flying around the SSR, the OSS had tried to declare the SSR a subset of their command. Rumor also had it that Philips had raised hell in response to that declaration. Bucky didn't know what was the actual outcome, but it seemed that things had settled enough between the two organizations that Philips was willing to allow them to 'borrow' Steve for three days.
Evans said nothing else except to turn and lead Steve out to wherever the jeep was. Bucky followed, raising a slight eyebrow at Steve, who shrugged in response. Neither of them ever understood the OSS, other than there seemed to be a rivalry between the OSS and the SSR. Even in war, there always seemed to be some wounds that could not be healed between allies, no matter what. Bucky sympathized to an extent, what Steve was about to face in the next three days, but only to an extent.
The jeep was parked directly in front of the building's entrance, obstinately blocking a good portion of the sidewalk. Bucky's sympathy for Steve's plight with the OSS dropped even further. He had a feeling that Steve was not going to be able to relax at all at the OSS Headquarters, especially with Evans' confrontational greeting, the jeep, and the no-nonsense way the non-com climbed into the driver's side.
Bucky shook his head grinning in humor for real this time, and said, “Have fun, Steve.”
“You bet I will,” Steve answered, slightly grumpy and wholly sarcastic, as he climbed into the front seat.
As soon as the jeep drove off and disappeared around the corner, Bucky shrugged and headed back into the building. As nondescript as the building front was for the SSR, the ground floor and those above it were legitimate businesses – if one could call the telephone operators who took up the upper two floors, and a branch of the US Army's processing centers, businesses.
Soldiers, especially those aides to the brass, filtered in and out of the building. Sometimes, the injured who had been hurriedly evacuated from across the Channel, made a brief stop here for the nurses and doctors stationed here to try to save their life, before being sent up to the hospital. Other times, soldiers assisting evacuations from across the Channel stopped by to receive further orders to bring back to their commanders.
The Commandos were one such group whom the locals knew as soldiers who assisted in evacuations. At least that was the cover story that the SSR ensured that was maintained. Going after the Red Skull and HYDRA was the primary objective the SSR. Yet, with pockets of France and most of Europe still under German control, the Commandos' missions had been interspersed with helping civilians evacuate from the advance of Allied forces.
Bucky walked back into the ground floor, flashing a smile towards some of secretaries who had looked up from their stations to see who had entered the building. A few giggled, hiding their shy smiles behind hands or shyly ducked away. They knew him by sight, as they knew all of the other Commandos, though it was Falsworth and Dernier who knew the women up here the best. It was all in part due to the two's penchant for remaining on the upper floors of the building, rather than stay below.
One could say that the Englishman and Frenchman could've easily had many slips of the tongue when flirting with the secretaries. The SSR's function was beyond top secret, and all of those who worked above ground in the building, thought of them as simple Allied personnel.
Betty, the one working at the end of the row, nearest to the locked entrance, was the one who always buzzed them in. She was also the only one who knew that the SSR was a covert intelligence agency, but not whom they had been tasked to go after. Bucky had initially questioned that their true first line of defense was a woman with a Walther strapped underneath her workstation, but Steve had explained what had happened in Brooklyn.
It hadn't left him with much confidence until he had seen just how accurate of a shot Betty was with all sorts of firearms in the underground practice range. Bucky had taken back his words, and apologized to both Steve and to Betty for doubting the two. That day spent in the underground range had also shown him that more than a handful of the seemingly ordinary-looking personnel– including Steve's girl, Peggy Carter – were quite good with firearms.
That had been his first introduction into what the SSR truly was, in terms of covert intelligence, and he had to admit – he loved it. The visible MPs with their armbands provided the actual deterrent, but the blended agents walking about in their daily tasks provided an additional layer of secrecy and protection.
It was as fascinating as it was intriguing, though Bucky had found that his fellow Commandos did not hold the same positive opinions about such covertness as he did. Even Steve had said that he still wasn't quite comfortable with what the SSR engaged in, but knew that it was necessary. Steve had also said that he was willing to put aside any uncertainty, and work with them; though Bucky had been left to try to figure out if Peggy had anything to do with Steve's willingness to engage in this sort of thing.
Bucky never got or found an answer to that puzzlement yet, and thus was left alone to his opinions about the SSR, Peggy, and this whole covert intelligence apparatus.
“Not leaving with the boys, Sergeant?” Betty asked, her tone matronly with just enough of a hint of concern to remind him of his mother.
“Not this time, Betty,” he answered, smiling at her with fondness.
Bucky knew little to nothing about her, other than she lived at one of the all-women's boarding house, and occasionally sent letters to her mother who had been evacuated up north. She was one of the very few seemingly immune to his charms – even before he had seen her practice at the range. It made his respect and confidence in her ability to be the front-line of defense for the others in the underground base, increase. She was not going to be easily swayed from her duties, or led astray by a handsome face.
“Well, I'm sure Miss Lorraine would be very happy to see you around for the next few days,” Betty commented, smiling as if it were a conspiratorial thing between the two of them.
Bucky remained silent and inclined his head slightly towards her in acknowledgment. They both knew that Lorraine, Phillips' secretary, had had her eye on Steve ever since he had entered the SSR base. Bucky had heard through the rumor mill that Lorraine had made the first move on Steve, but then Peggy had interrupted the two.
His attempt to try to talk to Steve about that rumor had ended with Steve flushing completely red and stammering so much that he didn't even get an answer to his question. After that, there were no more talks about Lorraine, but Bucky had made a few unconfirmed observations of his own regarding Lorraine and Peggy – namely that the two did not like each other.
When Lorraine began flirting with the rest of the Commandos, that had also been when he had gotten a strange tip from Peggy. She had only told him in passing, and quite obliquely, to only flirt with Lorraine if he was ready for Colonel Philips to know every single detail of his life – including all of the embarrassing ones. At first, he had been utterly puzzled by Peggy's words, until Peggy had slipped him a sample file that Lorraine had put together on one of the MPs.
It need not be said – and certainly wasn't – that it seemed that Lorraine was a personal spy of sorts to Philips, in addition to being a competent secretary. Why the woman was seemingly taking excruciatingly detailed notes of every single SSR personnel's lives was beyond him, but what Lorraine did reminded him of life in Brooklyn.
Some of the girls he dated had brothers, and a few of those brothers had the heart to tell him about gangs, bullies, and the like – and knew about his and Steve's reputations for getting into fights with those bullies. Location, time, and where the bullies would be was passed on to him, to either avoid, or to go plan with Steve to ambush them. It wasn't exactly a neighborhood watch, but there was some good in collecting that type of information.
Thus, he had wondered if he could throw a wrench in whatever Philips was doing with the information, and had begun to lightly flirt with Lorraine. At first, it was just to annoy the commander of the SSR, but he had found it refreshingly fun to engage in a deceptive wordplay with Lorraine. Whether it was dumb beginner's luck, Lorraine wanting another avenue to get closer to Steve – which Bucky was going to make sure that never happened – or the fact that the woman could see right through him, it was still ongoing.
The light flirting that both of them engaged in, had been two months strong as of this morning. It seemed almost routine. A slight innuendo said in passing while she fetched tea, a response in equal from him, was all done in public. It was enough for the rest of the SSR to dismiss it as normal. It also seemed to stop Lorraine from collecting further detailed information from others – if Philips' glower at him, every single time he remained behind instead of going on leave, was anything to say.
At the present though, the procedure to enter the main entrance to the underground base was no different this time. Betty pressed a button stationed below the desk she was working at. An inaudible click over the din of the secretaries' pool indicated that the heavy doors had been unlocked. Thanks to recent installments by Stark Tech, military policemen did not have to stand by and yank the doors open, as they had done early in the formation days of the Commandos.
As he made his way down the hall and back towards the main entrance, he thought he heard a faint echo of something slamming against the brick walls of the secondary entrance. Normally, he would have dismissed it as nothing of interest, but the noise strangely evoked a memory of him hearing the same thing done to Steve. That memory had happened just before he had turned the corner of an alleyway to see two bullies ganging up on Steve.
Frowning slightly, he paused and listened carefully, but there was no other noise coming from down the hall to the secondary entrance. Deciding to test his theory, he took a few audible steps towards the main entrance and pulled the door open and closed it, mimicking entrance.
A few seconds later, he thought he heard the same noise again. This time, he carefully masked his footsteps as he slowly made his way back down to the adjacent hall. He didn't peek out into the hall, just in case there was someone down near the entrance, but he did lean against the wall, straining to hear anything else strange down that hall.
His hunch was proven correct as a few moments later, he heard a voice growl in a whisper, “Fail me next time, and it won't be just your secret outed. Others will suffer the same fate as your friend. You will do it, or else—”
The hiss of defiance was equally quiet, but no less challenging in answer. “Thomas may be dead—”
Bucky blinked in surprise; the voice answering the threat belonged to the young engineer whom they had met only a hour before. Before he could loudly step forward though, the person issuing the threat cut back in. This time, there was a more audible, but still faint, slam of a body against the brick wall.
“Can your dirty conscience take the weight of another death, you piece of filth?” the voice growled. “Because that sister of his will be next—”
“You leave Emily alone—”
“Then kill him. He returns in three days. You'll have plenty of time to figure something out—”
The entrance to the ground floor doors opening and closing, shook Bucky out of his eavesdropping. He quickly pushed himself off the wall and made it look like as if he were approaching the main entrance, as he glanced behind to see two MPs entering. They looked refreshed, and he could only assume that they were here to take over a shift from their fellows.
He wanted to tell the two about the threat that he had overheard, but the 'he' that the threat was against was not just aimed towards David Brewster – if that was Brewster's voice he had heard vehemently defending himself. That 'he' that was supposed to be killed in three days, sent an uneasy feeling crawling through his stomach, but he knew that he couldn't assume that the threat was against Steve. That 'he' could've referred to the rest of the Commandos as well, or other personnel on leave or missions.
It was just too vague of a threat for him to pinpoint. Even if he gave the MPs behind him what he had overheard, he wasn't sure that they really knew how to go about catching someone who was threatening someone else. All he could assume they would do, was to interview Brewster, and thereby let the actual culprit slip away to plan whatever demise later.
If there was one thing he had clearly retained from his hated father, it was what his father and the other Feds who worked with him did in similar situations: let the plan continue on until just before the point of no return. The only problem was that Bucky did not know how the threat would manifest, only that the time was within three days.
As much as Bucky hated using what he had learned from his father's jobs as both a Fed and a former policeman working for Scotland Yard before the Barnes patriarch had upped his family to move to the States, Bucky knew he needed more information. His first stop was not to go back to the back halls winding around to the secondary entrance, but directly to the engineering labs.
Not only did he pick up on the fact that Thomas Hattersfield, who had apparently committed suicide early this morning, was one of Howard's engineers, but that Hattersfield had been a friend of Brewster. It seemed that Thomas Hattersfield also had a sister named Emily. While he was not always a betting man, Bucky had to place a firm bet that the young code-breaker who had helped Lorraine take notes in lieu of Peggy's absence, was most likely Emily.
It had been her puffy eyes that gave it away, though Bucky pushed aside the strangeness of making the poor girl work. In hindsight, it looked as if she clearly had not wanted to be at the SSR or working, and wanted to mourn her brother's death. His opinion of Philips, especially making the girl work – if she was Emily – dropped. Even his former bosses at the Brooklyn Naval Shipyards had not been that harsh whenever the secretaries told them of a death in the family.
Making his way through the knots of busy people, he slowed down to lightly flirt with one of the secretaries that passed by with a batch of folders in her hands, knowing that she enjoyed the attention. While he was doing that, he made sure that he had a good view of the main area where some of the the code-breakers were working. Emily was still sitting at her station, hunched slightly over and concentrating on whatever she was doing. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary in this section of the base.
It wasn't enough time for him to gauge whether or not she knew of the threat against her life, but Bucky had something more important to attend to. He wrapped up his light flirting with the secretary – Katie – with an affectionate but faint brush of his fingers against her chin. Katie giggled and made a hurried excuse to be on her way, wanting to savor the moment alone. Bucky, flashed her a disarming smile before continuing on, and made his way to the engineering section of the headquarters.
Descending down the stairs, he saw that the knots of engineers were less, as they were busy disassembling the weapons that the Commandos had brought back. The engineers were also performing analysis of the modifications – at least that's what it looked like to Bucky as his coming down the stairs to the main laboratory proper caused a couple of them to look up owlishly at him.
“May I help you, Sergeant Barnes?” one of the engineers, a rather heavyset man with balding black hair, came over, as soon as Bucky stepped off the final step.
“Just wondering where Mr. Brewster was,” Bucky said, even though he had identified the young engineer among the others in the lab, standing in the far corner of the area.
“Over there, sir,” the engineer said, stepped to the side and pointed to the same area.
“Thanks,” he answered, and made his way over.
As he approached, he carefully searched out for any signs of the young man carrying bruises from being slammed into a brick wall at least twice. There was nothing on Brewster's lab coat to suggest that brick dust or even grime from the dirtiness of that area was on the coat. Nor was there any indication that the young engineer was showing visible signs of hurt.
Bucky turned his attention to what Brewster was inspecting: a low powered, high yield electromagnetic pulse mine. That mine had been a prototype that Steve had carried with him and used to great effect in their mission. It had clearly given them an enormous advantage over those HYDRA forces they had encountered, enabling them to bring back a treasure trove of information.
“It worked,” he spoke up, stopping an arm's length away from the young engineer.
It was clear that Brewster had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard him clearly and loudly approach. Bucky had not even hidden his footsteps on the floor of the engineering lab. The young man jumped slightly with his words, before whipping around, looking like a startled rabbit. Brewster had also been so surprised that he dropped the mine.
Fortunately, Bucky's reflexes were still fast enough that he lunged forward and caught the mine before it could hit the ground. “Ah, better not drop it right now,” he said, standing back up, but did not immediately hand it back. “I think it might still have some residual charge – enough to at least temporarily take out the lights here.”
“Um,” the young man stammered as Bucky then returned the mine to him.
“It worked,” he repeated. “Captain Rogers was originally going to set the timer to go off in thirty seconds, but then HYDRA decided to rear their ugly heads faster than we anticipated. He set the mine off right then and there, and it worked.”
“G-good,” Brewster said, as Bucky caught him not stammering again, but looking... embarrassed?
Bucky wasn't sure if it was truly embarrassment, but whatever it was, it sent an unusual chill down his spine. There was a reason why Brewster was fiddling with the EMP mine, and Bucky's gut feeling told him that it most likely had something to do with the threat against the young engineer. “You created it, didn't you?” he ventured, keeping his tone friendly.
To his surprise, Brewster silently nodded looking slightly uncertain, but then immediately followed up with a quiet, “Thomas and I, we both created it. He... he came up with the design, specifications, and wiring. I just physically built it to whatever he said to do.”
“Thomas?” he gently asked.
“Thomas Hattersfield,” the young man quietly answered.
“I heard from Colonel Philips that he was a close friend of yours,” Bucky lied. He paused for a moment, before saying in sincere tone, “On behalf of Captain Rogers and the Howling Commandos, I want to tell you that we're sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, sir,” Brewster said, nodding as he turned slightly to place the mine back down on the table.
Sensing that he could not get any further information from the young engineer, Bucky turned away, deciding to head back up. Before he could take more than a step away, Brewster's quiet, “Sergeant Barnes?”
He turned slightly back, saying, “Yes?”
“One of Thomas' specifications for the mine had indicated an incorrect pulse and frequency waveforms. I didn't want to go against what he said and recommended, but I knew that if neither of those were corrected, the mine wouldn't have worked the way it was supposed to have worked. So I corrected it without telling him.”
Bucky was silent for a few long moments, as it was clear that the young man was trying to tell him something about the mine. It wasn't that he didn't understand what Brewster was describing – he really didn't – but it was also clear that a burst of courage had seemed to overtaken the young engineer for the moment. Bucky truly wanted to confront the engineer with what he had overheard, but at this juncture, it was much too dangerous to do so.
He did not know who exactly was threatening Brewster, Emily Hattersfield, and by extension the 'he' threat. His gut was telling him that the 'he' threat was pointing to Steve being threatened, but Bucky knew that he had to put aside his presumptions. The entire world, including his own, did not revolve around Steve Rogers.
“I'm sure Thomas would have appreciated the correction, and I wish that we could have told him that it worked,” he said instead. “Thank you, Mr. Brewster, for doing that.”
The flash of guilt that he expected to appear on the young man's face was not present. Instead, relief seemed to flood him, as Bucky saw tears appear in Brewster's eyes. Those tears did not fall, but the young man was nodding to the words. Any other actions other than walking away would be suspicious at this point – at least that was what Bucky thought so – and so he gave one last nod towards Brewster, and returned upstairs.
* * *
Later in the day...
Linens were always the one thing that mattered, whenever cleaning guns. Of course, the oil that went into the cleaning also mattered, but it was mostly linens. Dirty linens should not have been used, but in the field, you took what you could get. Here though, in the SSR, there were some fresh linens around, as Bucky closed the locked up 'the cage', mentally cursing whomever had been the last in the cage.
The rotation schedule was not even set correctly – the man on the schedule had been off on a mission with his team for the past week. The last person to have used 'the cage' had not even had the decency to clean up after himself, much less replace the formerly clean pile of linens. Thus now, after spending more time than he cared making sure 'the cage' was properly cleaned and restocked with the necessary accouterments, the only thing left was to go get fresh linens.
Carrying a sack of dirty linens around wasn't the most dignified of jobs, but as an NCO, and a ranking one of the 107th, it was his job to make sure that all the little things that the officers may not have picked up, were picked up. Fortunately, he only had to carry the sack as far as the dumbwaiter elevator that was marked [Laundry]. If there was one convenience of the SSR, it was that all of them did not have personally carry their dirty clothes to the nearest laundromat – they sent a service to do that for them.
Locking the contraption up and pressing the button for the elevator to automatically bring the sack up to the ground floor, he then headed down another hall towards the logistics portion of the base. “Hey, el-tee,” he casually greeted the Lieutenant working at the duty station.
“Sarge,” the logistics officer answered, grinning. “What can I do for you today? No bourbon though. We're fresh out for the past two weeks.”
“Just need some linens for 'the cage',” he answered.
“McHenry came by two days ago and picked up a few,” the officer stated, frowning slightly. “There should be more than enough in 'the cage'.”
“I just carried a sack of whatever was left to laundry, el-tee,” Bucky stated, his frown matching that of the officer's. “There's absolutely no clean ones in there. McHenry isn't even on the rotation until next Thursday.”
“Ah shit,” the officer said, shaking his head, looking frustrated and annoyed. “Shit... shit... okay. I'm going to let you in this one time, Sarge, because I trust that you're not going to go nicking other stuff. Get the linens you need, and let me know how many you're taking, okay? I gotta stay here and figure where McHenry might've taken the linens to, and what to tell Captain Farrow.”
“All right,” he answered, nodding as the officer disappeared from the window of the duty station and came around to unlock the door to the space where most of the everyday supplies that kept the SSR running, were kept. As soon as the door opened, Bucky stepped through, pausing a little past the threshold, and nodded at the officer in thanks.
Bucky received a nod in return and continued down the corridor. He passed several shelves of various enormous tins for the cooks, along with the more mundane things like paper, pen, and powered ink for the typing machines. It was near the middle of the enormous storage area that he began to walk among the linens – clothes, sheets, uniforms, a couple of bolts of precious silk to make parachutes, thread – everything. Most of the linens had markers or ties on them labeling their destination, which meant that they were being stored in here as a temporary holding point for a couple of days.
A long row of towels, sheets, and bed covers of various sizes caught his eye. At the end of the row, leaning against the brick wall, were two enormous sacks of scrap cloth. Approaching it and crouching slightly in front of the sacks, he stopped short of reaching into them as he saw movement out of the corner of his left eye.
Glancing in that direction, he could barely make out a young woman who looked to have brown hair, through the slats of various items lined upon the shelves of this area. She didn't look to be pinned against the end of the shelf corridor that she was in, but rather was leaning slightly forward, and talking to some one dressed in a white lab coat—
“Em, he's threatened to kill you as well—” Brewster pleaded whisper was barely heard by Bucky from where he was, still half-crouched.
As much as Bucky wanted to move, he didn't and stayed as still as possible, as he heard the young woman – most likely Emily – answer in an equally hushed whisper, “It doesn't matter David! We need to let Carter, someone, anyone know—”
“We do that, and we're both as good as dead—”
“You don't know that—” Hattersfield pleaded.
“Please, Em, you need to run. You need to get out of here. I...I can't lose you as well—”
“No, David,” she firmly answered. “My brother and I – we made a promise to protect you—”
“Miss Hattersfield? Are you still in here?”
Peggy's voice from the entrance to the logistics storage area carried quite far in – enough that it caused the two young people to immediately fall silent. Bucky wondered when Peggy had returned, as he had not seen her in the main section when he had been there. However, knowing Brewster and Hattersfield were going to most likely walk past where he was in a matter of minutes, he decided against being picky and choosy and took a handful of scrap cloth from one of the sacks.
Emerging out into the main corridor, he made his way back down, giving Peggy a casual wave of his hand, acting as if he had not heard anything. Fortunately, the logistics officer was standing at the entrance as well, and immediately set to work to take inventory of what he had retrieved. He was quickly processed, and without a glance back at Peggy, or towards the footsteps approaching her, Bucky left.
He returned to 'the cage' and set the cloths down on the table, just as he saw Peggy and Emily Hattersfield emerge from the same hall he had emerged from a few minutes ago. Taking a seat, he began to disassemble the first gun.
The single glance at Hattersfield was all that he needed to confirm that the young woman was indeed, the same one who had taken Peggy's place at the briefing this morning. As he listened to the idle conversations, along with the more interesting ones that floated in the air around, he took the first cloth from the pile and methodically began to clean the first gun.
Occasionally, he glanced up from his work, seeing Peggy gather information from the code-breakers working on the main floor's bullpen, including Hattersfield. There was nothing to suggest that any of the other personnel who walked around, worked in the area, or were just catching a quick break, were aware of whatever it was that was going on. Gossip or even the updates they were providing each other only alluded to the melancholy, with occasional whispers about the possible cause of Thomas Hattersfield's suicide.
“What do you know of Thomas and Emily Hattersfield, Sergeant Barnes?”
He didn't even glance over towards the voice who had stated that, as he continued to clean the sidearm he was currently working on. Trust Peggy to find a way to seek him out after what had happened earlier – she was much better at this cloak and dagger thing than he was. She had also most likely read something within him as he had passed her, that he had given away through visual cues.
“Nothing until this morning. The young man seemed like a well-respected engineer on Howard's team, possibly popular with the code-breakers and secretaries, given how much speculation is flying around as to why he committed suicide. His sister is also as competent as you are during briefings,” he answered. “They both apparently made a promise to keep their friend, David Brewster, protected though.”
“And Mr. Brewster?” Peggy questioned, as he saw her rifle through the top box of a stack of filing boxes directly next to 'the cage', seemingly looking for something.
“Smart. Seems to admire Steve a lot. Apparently he and Thomas created the EMP mine that Steve used, but he had to change something on it to make it work the way it worked. He said that he went against the recommendation of his friend to do so,” he answered, frowning slightly as he put aside the cleaned sidearm and picked up another one.
“And?”
Bucky did not immediately answer as he glanced up to see a couple of MPs walking by. For a few moments, the volume of the main floor seemed to get louder, even though there were no frenzied activities accompanying it. Just as he was about to speak, he saw Brewster emerge from the logistics area's hall, carrying a tray with bits and pieces in it. He watched the young engineer turn and walk through and back down to another set of halls that would bring him back to the labs.
Returning to his cleaning duties, he said, “Someone's threatening him.”
“And that someone has already killed his friend for not succeeding the first time,” Peggy stated in a quiet, almost inaudible tone. “The intent of 'suicide' note left behind alluded to something catastrophic happening in the field that none of us here could have stopped. Howard doesn't know about my theory about the note, and I dare not tell him. However, it seems that Steve was supposed to have died when that EMP went off.”
Bucky felt a shard of ice stab through him for one quick moment, before forcing himself to continue to clean the gun.
“What's the plan?” he asked after a few moments, setting the sidearm down, trying to keep his composure as calm as possible.
He hated it when his gut was right about there being a threat against Steve. As much as he wanted to rush out of 'the cage' and down to the labs to confront Brewster and demand the blackmailer's name, he forced himself to remain here. With Peggy now involved, aware of what he knew, and knowing a lot more than he did, she had a better grasp of the situation.
Bucky gathered up the reassembled weapons he had cleaned thus far and set the dirty materials to the side. He stood up, and took a couple of steps away from Peggy, hanging up and placing the weapons back into their appropriate areas within 'the cage'.
“I know she isn't your type, but escort Emily home, Sergeant. I want to see where this goes,” Peggy stated, with him faintly hearing her, as she kept the low tone and near-whisper that she had been using, the same. “Her shift ends at 19:00.”
“Double shifts today, Carter?” he asked, pausing for a moment in his walk back to the area where the weapons were hung.
Bucky knew that the code breakers usually did not pull double shifts unless there was a major operation coming up. After what they had done, he would have thought that the Commandos would have at least earned a few simple outpost runs.
However, he was not adverse to hitting HYDRA incredibly hard again – the faster they took down Schmidt and his forces, the better chance of survival their own Allied forces would have against the Nazis. He had heard the reports; the Nazis were already tough sons of bitches, and they did not need to be reinforced by HYDRA at all.
Silence answered his question as he finally glanced up towards the corner where Peggy had situated herself, most likely pretending she was looking for a file or something in the reams of archives they kept. He never understood why data and past mission reports, briefings, and data were kept next to 'the cage', but it wasn't his place to question the operational layout of the SSR.
Peggy was not standing there anymore.
Bucky looked around and caught a glimpse of her at the far end of the main area, stopped next to one of the code-breakers working in the bullpen. She nodded to what the code-breaker was saying, before continuing on. He knew that Peggy herself occasionally worked in both the primary code-breaker pool – located in the west end of headquarters – and the main floor's bullpen. Yet, with her other duties as an intelligence officer, she mostly oversaw the code-breakers, and coordinated their schedules.
This was the third time that they had talked like this – him sitting in 'the cage', cleaning weapons, and her, passing along information. The first time had been a warning with regards to Lorraine. The second time had been the detailed MP information passed on to him about the information that Lorraine was collecting with all of her 'targets'.
Now, it was this current situation.
He wasn't sure if this was to become a habit, but even with the current situation, there was a certain odd thrill to it. It didn't seem like Peggy was training him to be more observant than he already was, but he was picking up on the way she handled these types of situations.
Not only did it remind him of the many times he had kept the grudges and fights that bullies and gangs had against Steve, secret from Steve, but there was a sense of fulfillment. It stirred something within him – to play this cat and mouse game, this cloak and dagger route that he liked – and to share it with someone who liked it as much as he did.
Waiting a few more minutes, he then set the rifle that he was about to disassemble and clean, to the side. He cleaned up as much of the place as he could, knowing that with what he was about to do, there was a strong possibility that he would not be able to remain working and observing the area through 'the cage' until later.
Bucky wiped his dirty hands as best as he could with a clean cloth and stepped out of 'the cage'. Making sure it was locked firmly behind him, he made his way over to the code-breaker bullpen, stopping directly in front of Hattersfield's station.
“Miss Hattersfield,” he began, catching the attention of the young woman, as she looked up. Whereas the other women he had done the same to, would immediately blush pink and bat their eye lashes at him, the young woman's response was not quite the same. Her cheeks had flushed slightly red, but she was only blinking at him in surprise.
“On behalf of Captain Rogers and the others, I just wanted to give you condolences on your loss, Miss Hattersfield. I don't know if it will help ease your pain, but I heard that one of the objects that we used in our most recent mission was created and designed by your brother. It saved our lives. None of us would be here, were it not for his device.”
“T-thank you, sir,” the young woman stuttered slightly, looking even more surprised than she had initially been. There were tears forming in her eyes, but she hastily wiped them away, nodding as she said again. “Thank you.”
As much as Bucky wanted to reach out and give her a comforting pat on the shoulder like he had done to his sisters whenever they came to him crying, he didn't. Not only were his hands still dirty from cleaning the weapons, he found that he didn't want to flirt with her in order to carry out Peggy's order to him. It didn't feel appropriate for him to do such a thing to her, not when she was clearly and genuinely hurting from her loss.
Bucky silently nodded and stepped away, his feet carrying him out of the main area and towards another section.
* * *
Nightfall...
It was a little after seven at night when Bucky finally saw Hattersfield emerge from the front entrance. The sun had already set and darkness was rapidly settling in over the city. Londoners everywhere were hurrying home, anticipating another possible night of air raids from across the Channel. The young code-breaker was no different, and just as Bucky was about to push off from the side of the building's shadow he was leaning against, another figure emerged after her. Neither saw him as they hurried from the front entrance.
He paused in his action, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Brewster gently take Hattersfield by the arm, and guide her across the busy street. He watched them successfully cross, and just as the two reached the other side's sidewalk, yet another figure a few yards away from where they had crossed to, began moving.
While he would have chalked it up to a bystander going in the same direction as Hattersfield and Brewster, the mannerisms of the figure were anything but benign. He had seen the same kind of hunter stalking a prey before on the streets of Brooklyn – from the gangs that occasionally decided to follow and harass Steve before Bucky could get to them and fight them.
The two were being followed, and neither of them seemed to notice it.
Pushing himself off, he took a more oblique route to cross the street, making sure that he kept enough distance between him, Hattersfield and Brewster, and whomever was following the two. While he would have immediately confronted the person following the two, the streets were much too crowded, and he did not want to draw attention. He didn't know if the unidentified person – a man, judging by his gait, was an associate of Brewster's blackmailer, or the blackmailer himself.
The walk down the main thoroughfare was long, but not difficult to navigate. Bucky used the crowds to his advantage, drawing on what he had learned and done while in Brooklyn doing something similar, to help him. He was a little glad that there were knots of service men going about, some headed to pubs, others to apartments or stores before they closed for the night.
Twice though, he had to pause and turn his head slightly to the side pulling his cover – his uniform's hat – down, or slow down so that a knot of people covered him, so that he was not identified by the figure who tailed Brewster and Hattersfield. The follower was good, he noted to himself.
He remembered the various bullies who thought they were going to get a ganged up advantage over Steve through an alleyway, never saw him following them. This follower was cautious enough to pause himself and look around for anything suspicious around him – which included turning completely a hundred eighty from where he had been, and surveying everything behind him.
About a half hour after Hattersfield and Brewster set off, the two finally arrived at a building that was emblazoned in gold, with the sign: [The Darling-Rothschild House for Women]. He stopped where he was, affecting a sudden interest in the evening's newspaper being sold by the newspaper boy a few feet from where he was. Paying the boy the appropriate amount, he stepped over to the side and leaned against the corner of the building's walls, almost directly below a street lamp that had not been doused yet.
Though he knew that it would make him visible, he hoped that by opening the paper up, both it, and the shadows that the lamp cast, would hide enough of his profile. The paper itself was not much in terms of news from across the Atlantic, and very little more information that he didn't know about what was happening in Europe. Still, he pretended to read it, as he kept flicking his eyes up, catching a glimpse of the person following the two, slip into the adjacent alleyway to the all women's boarding house.
He frowned slightly, but knew that he could not move at the moment. He was certain that the tail was most likely trying to find a way to climb up and into the boarding house, to hurt Hattersfield. To do so at this juncture was definitely going to bring a lot more trouble than anything else. He would have to wait until Brewster left, to intercept the person following the two, and defend Hattersfield, as he did not want the engineer in his way.
Despite claiming friendship and hearing protective words issuing from Hattersfield's lips about Brewster, there seemed to be little to no affection between the two, as Bucky saw Brewster simply unhooked their arms. A few words were exchanged, along with a friendly, but seemingly distant wave of goodbye to Hattersfield. The young man left, and the young woman entered the building, closing the door tightly behind her.
Bucky's eyes tracked Brewster crossing the street, as he folded up the paper, tucked it under an arm, and slipped back into the crowds. Just as he was half-way in closing the distance to the building that Hattersfield lived in, a most unexpected person stepped out from the adjacent alleyway – the man who had been following the two. Bucky immediately took a step to the side and looked up, flicking his eyes over to his left, as he caught the tail end of the man passing close enough that only a thin crowd of people separated both of them.
He still could not catch a glimpse of the person, but the direction that the person was headed in, was clearly to follow Brewster. Bucky counted to ten in his mind, before turning back around and immediately crossed. He caught a glimpse of both turning the corner of a tall building, and picked up his pace.
Nevertheless, as he approached the corner of the building where he had last seen the two, he slowed up. Approaching it gingerly, he took a half-step out and again, saw the tail end of their coats flapping behind them. It looked as if the follower had caught up to Brewster and was forcibly taking him elsewhere.
Concern rose within Bucky, but he still maintained a cautious attitude as he quickly but quietly approached the end of the building. There was an alleyway between this one and the next, and it looked as if the follower had dragged Brewster into the alleyway. He glanced around, but it seemed that this particular road was not as populated as the main thoroughfare, nor was it lighted at all.
“What the hell are you doing?!” a low voice, the same voice as before, Bucky realized as he paused and pressed himself up against the adjacent edge of the building to the alleyway. “Why the hell was Sergeant Barnes talking to you?! None of the soldiers are supposed to talk to you pathetic engineers! You're just there to build them their killing machines, no more no less.”
“I said nothing!” Brewster vehemently denied, fear and panic evident in his tone. “I'm telling the truth! I said nothing to him!”
“Then why the hell was he talking to you?” the voice demanded.
“Because you killed my friend, and he was just expressing his condolences, you asshole,” the young man retorted with enough venom to surprise Bucky. “Now let me go!”
“Good,” the voice said in a calmer tone, and there was some noise that indicated that Brewster was being let go. “It confirms the rumors that I've heard.”
“Why the hell would I lie to you, you son-of-a—” Brewster began, hissing his words.
“Lie to me, and it won't just be Thomas and Emily Hattersfield's blood on your hands,” the voice threatened.
“You wouldn't dare—”
“Wouldn't I?” the voice interrupted, tone sinister and utterly malicious. “You know what we're capable of.” There was a pause, and in an even more threatening tone, Bucky heard the voice whisper, “If you don't want that secret of yours to get out, you'll go right back to work, you piece of filth.”
There were a few seconds of silence, but then footsteps began approaching the entrance of the alleyway. Bucky immediately backpedaled as fast as he could, trying to keep his footsteps inaudible. He managed to slip into the main thoroughfare's crowds in the nick of time, catching a glimpse of Brewster emerging from the alleyway, hands in his jacket's pockets, before the flow of the crowd caught up with him.
For the next few seconds, Bucky made sure that he was not seen by Brewster as he walked further up the thoroughfare, watching the young man head back down. As soon as there was a good knot of people between the two of them, Bucky broke free of the crowds and returned to the side street and alleyway as fast as possible without alerting anyone around him.
He mentally swore as he peeked into the alleyway and found that there was no evidence of anyone being there. Whomever was the tail, had taken another way out and was gone. He had not seen any sign of the follower, up the side street, or among the fringes of the main road.
There was only one avenue left open for him, and damn what Peggy had ordered him to do – he now wanted answers.
* * *
A half-hour later...
The walk back was long enough for Bucky's anger to build to explosive levels, but he kept his expression as neutral, and open as possible. At first he had thought that the blackmailer was a part of the engineering team, as each person in that main lab had heard his words that he had spoken to Brewster. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed unlikely, as the words that the blackmailer spoke of, pointed him to be somewhere else where rumors ran like the wind.
That encompassed most of the SSR, which made it difficult to pinpoint down who exactly it was, or whom – if the blackmailer had associates. Clearly one of the other engineers must have spread the rumor of his words of condolences to Brewster, though it puzzled him as to why it was done. In a secret organization fighting a somewhat secret war, there were enough rumors everywhere to last at least two lifetimes – none needed to be added.
At the present though, he entered through the main entrance, giving a nod to the MPs on duty. Shedding his uniform's jacket, he draped it over an arm, not wanting to leave it anywhere on the main floor. He didn't want to give the blackmailer or his associates any evidence that he had returned here before his next shift's reporting hour. He knew that all of the MPs were not a part of the blackmailer's confidence, due to seeing the copious amount of notes that Lorraine had detailed for one of them.
As he descended the stairs and into the main lab, there was no one in the lab, except for Brewster. The young engineer was at the far side of the room, back turned against him, and most likely did not hear him come down the stairs. There seemed to be an air of misery hanging about the young man, as he was working on something that Bucky could not see.
Bucky tossed his uniform's jacket over Steve's shield as he passed it, and loosened the collar of his shirt slightly, in preparation for a possible fight. He did not want to beat up the young engineer, but he was prepared to do so, if it would mean that Steve and his friends remained safe.
Glancing over at the modifications that had been on the weapons that the Commandos had brought back, he noticed that his sniper rifle was still on the table. Oddly though, there was a set of schematics sitting underneath the rifle, and he took a quick glance at it, curious. The initials of [D.B.] were on the corner of the top most schematic page.
Returning his attention to the matter at hand, he approached, clearing his throat loudly enough that Brewster jumped and spun around. “Who the hell is threatening you, and why the hell do they want to kill Steve?” he bluntly, and angrily asked.
“I-I don't know—”
“Don't give me that bull, Brewster,” he stated, determined not to let a growl crawl into his tone. The last thing he wanted to do, was to sound exactly like the blackmailer. “I followed you and whoever the hell that person was, tonight. I heard the two of you talking. I don't give a damn as to what he's blackmailing you for, Brewster. All I want is a name, and why. Who this person works for, if you can't give me a reason why he wants Steve dead.”
Either the young man was shocked into stupor for a moment or otherwise, that moment of silence was interrupted by the clatter of footsteps coming down the stairs. Bucky blinked, schooling his expression back to as neutral as possible as Howard of all people, appeared.
“Barnes?” the chief engineer and inventor questioned, pausing at the foot of the stairs. “What are you doing here so late? Whatever the hell Steve and the rest of you brought back, it's big enough for Philips to actually tell us to take the night off. It's going to be work, work, work tomorrow.”
“Mr. Brewster was just showing me the new specifications he's designed for my sniper rifle,” Bucky lied, partially glad that he had taken the time to take a brief look at the schematics sitting beneath his beloved rifle.
“Well, don't stay up late, you two,” Howard said, striding across the room to pick up a white fedora with black trim of all things, and plopped it onto his head. “You'll both regret it tomorrow when Philips begins cracking the whip on all of us.”
It was only well after Howard left, and that Bucky couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, that Bucky returned his attention onto Brewster. Howard's interruption had snapped the sharp point of anger that had been sitting like a fine-tuned piano wire across his chest. He was still angry at Brewster, but the young engineer did not deserve his ire, no matter how he felt about the threat against Steve's life.
“Why'd you do that, Sergeant Barnes?” Brewster quietly asked, fiddling with what looked like a cartridge shell in his hands.
Bucky sighed, and turned slightly to pull up a stool to sit on. He gestured for Brewster to do the same, and watched as the young man placed the cartridge shell on the table he had been working at, and sit.
“I'm sorry,” Bucky apologized. “I shouldn't have yelled at you, but what I heard earlier was—”
“The EMP wasn't supposed to be an EMP, sir,” Brewster quietly interrupted, wringing his hands together, unable to look at him directly in the eyes. “Thomas designed it specifically to be an EMP, and I had built it to his specifications. When Mr. Stark had us present it to Colonel Philips to ask him to certify it for field usage without the usual testing phase, Colonel Philips suggested that it be deployed on your next mission. The one you all just returned from.”
The young man paused for a moment, looking even more dismayed and anxious than he already looked, before continuing on, saying, “That night, when I stayed behind to finish up a few other things, Thomas was already escorting Emily back to her apartment before returning to the apartment us two shared. That was also when the blackmailer appeared and threatened me. He wanted me to sabotage and turn the EMP into an explosive.
“I refused to do it and told Thomas about the threat. We couldn't go to Mr. Stark or the others, because the blackmailer left another threat. But I still refused to do it. Thomas caved, and sabotaged it. I went back in the middle of the night and repaired it a couple of hours before you were all deployed. I didn't think I could fix it, since Thomas knew more about the theory behind EMPs than I did.
“A few days later, after Corporal Morita radioed in for mission success, I was up late in the lab, and decided to sleep here, instead of going back to the apartment. The blackmailer killed Thomas, when he should have killed me. He killed my friend all because I refused to give in to his demands.”
Finally, Brewster looked up, and though there was still fear in his eyes, Bucky saw defiance, as the young engineer said, “I don't know what he looks like, Sergeant, and I still don't. All I can tell you, sir, is that I think this person is someone working in the SSR. But officer, agent, or otherwise, I'm still not going to give into his demands. He's going to have to kill me before I will ever let anything I build harm you, Captain Rogers, or the other Howling Commandos.”
As much as Bucky wanted to believe him, there was still one thing that stood out to him, and it was not what the blackmailer had blackmailed Brewster with. “Yet, you returned here after he told you to come back here. Why?” he asked, tone and demeanor serious, as he folded his hands together, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“I don't care if the blackmailer releases my secret, Sergeant Barnes. I just don't want him going after Emily. I can't have her blood on my hands, not after Thomas. So, I came back here, hoping that if it looked like I was obeying him, he would leave her alone,” the young man stated.
Bucky remained silent for a long while. His anger at the young engineer was completely gone, refocused on the blackmailer – whomever he was. He believed that the young man was telling the truth. It was clear now just how much Brewster had tried to not give in, and how that price had been paid.
He knew Peggy would most likely be wary of bringing Brewster, the primary target of the blackmailer, into the fold. He would have to clear it with her first before he could do much of anything to help the young man.
“You're not alone in this, Brewster,” he said, unfolding his hands, and stood up. “I'll have to clear it with someone else first, but if we play our cards right, we might just be able to catch this son-of-a-bitch in two days – before Steve and the others return.”
Relief seemed to bleed from the young engineer as he too, stood up, saying, “Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.”
“Bucky,” he said, extending a hand out. “And I meant it with my words earlier about Thomas. I'm sorry for your loss, and I wished he could have been alive to know that the device worked as intended.”
“Bucky,” the young man repeated, taking the hand and shaking it, looking somewhat happier than he had been since Bucky had first met him. “Please call me David, then. And thank you for your kind words.”
Bucky nodded, letting go at the same time David let go. They had two days to catch the bastard, and he was determined to do so without anyone else being threatened or killed.
~*~*~*~