Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

April 1932

Less than two months after he turned fifteen, James Buchanan Barnes’ life officially ended.

Or at least, it might as well have.

Deep down, some part of him knew he should have seen it coming. There were just too many signs. His father getting laid off from the factory. His best friend getting his nose broken in yet another back-alley fight. His home team getting crippled by a four-game losing streak that absolutely refused to let up.

He couldn’t do anything about his pa’s job, and he’d already busted a tooth out of the bully that beat up Steve, so it was the Dodgers that he couldn’t stop thinking about when he woke up that morning. They were playing the Giants later that day, and he and Steve had both sworn they’d march down to Ebbets Field and root for their home team even if they couldn’t afford a seat in the stands. It was the least they could do, after all. And who knew? Maybe today would be the day it’d all turn around. Maybe the Dodgers would whoop those Giants so bad people’d be writing about it in the history books for years to come. And Steve and Bucky could say they were there. They’d never had a doubt. They’d known their team would win all along.

Only right now Bucky didn’t care one lick about any of that, because right now his insides were throbbing, his gut was clenching, and his muscles were trembling so hard he could barely manage to stumble the last few steps up to Steve’s door.

He’d put it off as a mild case of stomach flu earlier that morning. Even when he’d left the house, he kept telling himself he was bound to get better. But between the cold sweat clinging to his forehead and the thicker dampness leaking down his thighs, there was no longer any denying it.

He was in heat.

Oh, God …

A sob tore through his throat. Tears pushed at the backs of his eyes, but he scrubbed them away before they could get any farther. He couldn’t afford to break down. Not here. Not yet. Not when he was so exposed. And especially not when he was just seconds away from breaking the news to Stevie.

He still didn’t even know what he was supposed to say.

“Hey, Punk, you know how we’d made plans to go to college together? Well, looks like that’s shot to shit, ’cause I’m about to be sold off to some knothead Alpha, and you’re gonna get killed stepping into some fight you’re too damned dumb to walk away from. So yeah, there’s that.”

Bucky didn’t know if the sound that broke out of him right then was a laugh or a sob. Not that it mattered. Not much mattered. Not anymore. With this death sentence hanging over his head, he couldn’t manage to care about much of anything really. Except for Stevie. God help him, he still worried about the little runt.

Part of him thought he should be more concerned about his own family. Becca would be losing a brother. His parents would be losing a son. The law would force them to find him an Alpha or hand him over to a government-assigned partner by the end of the day. There’d be no getting around it. After presentation, every Omega had to be bonded before the end of their first heat. It was for their own good. Everyone knew that Omegas couldn’t be trusted with their own freedom like Alphas and Betas. Their bodies and brains were different. They were born to be meek and docile and submissive. Their greatest purpose in life was to be bred and their greatest need was to be controlled. Medical science had confirmed it. And without a strong Alpha to guide them, that same science stated that an unbonded Omega would be doomed to a life of depravity, despair, and ultimately insanity. Possibly even death.

So either I lose my freedom or my mind. Bucky snickered. What a way to go.

He pressed his burning forehead against the Rogers’ front door and sighed.

No way would he lose his mind. He knew he wasn’t that lucky. His parents would obey the law. They’d turn him in for his own good. If they didn’t, they’d both go to jail. Maybe even prison. He wasn’t too up on the law, but he knew that harboring an unbonded Omega was a serious offence. And if his parents got sent away, what would happen to Becca? She was still just a kid. She needed them. She still had years to go before she came close to presenting, but who’s to say she wouldn’t be an Omega, too? Sure, their pa was an Alpha, but he’d married a Beta. And everyone knew those couplings were the most chaotic.

As much as George Barnes reveled in his status as an Alpha, it was times like this that Bucky really wished his pa would have been born a Beta. Life would have been so much simpler if he had. If two Betas mated, their pups were always Betas. But if an Alpha bred a Beta, their pups’ designation was anyone’s guess. Sure most of the time they turned out Betas—that designation did make up over two thirds of the population—but every now and then the odd Alpha or Omega would show up.

That’s why Bucky’s Ma and Pa had been so obsessed with getting to know all the other unbonded Alphas in the neighborhood – just in case Becca ended up an Omega. The idea that something like this could have ever happened to Bucky had never crossed anyone’s mind. He’d been too smart, his father had claimed. Too athletic. Too strong. And after seeing how quick his son was to stand up for the Rogers boy in a fight, George had long since decided that his boy was nothing short of an Alpha just like his old man.

“Besides,” Bucky remembered his dad saying once, “do you know how rare male Omegas are? You’ve got Alphas out there willing to sell their souls just to get a sniff of one of those. They’re total status symbols. Practically unclaimable for your common man Alpha. No sir, Omegas like that are reserved for the rich. And you sure ain’t gonna see no rich man’s toy coming out of a crummy little row house in Brooklyn like ours.”

Bucky laughed at the memory. Or maybe he cried. He couldn’t tell anymore. He was already losing it. His mind didn’t feel like his own, and his body sure didn’t either. Everything was just too much. The sounds. The scents. The colors. It’s like the world kept changing around him. But no, it wasn’t the world. It was him. He was changing. He was changing right into something he’d never wanted to be.

Bucky was just thankful Steve would never have to suffer through something like this. Between his small body and bad lungs, the punk had more than enough knocks against him. But at least he’d never had to doubt his designation. Steve’s father was an Alpha and his mother was an Omega. Pairings like that only ever produced more Alphas. And as soon as Steve presented, that’s what he’d be. An Alpha. A strong and free Alpha.

And Bucky’d just be the little bitch who used to mop up his bloody noses.

Fucking hell.

Bucky’s breath shook as lifted a hand to knock on the door. As tempting as it was to sit there and drown in self-pity, he couldn’t afford that little luxury. He could already smell his own scent ramping up. Pretty soon some random stranger would notice it, too. And he’d heard way too many stories about knothead Alphas attacking heat-ridden Omegas to think that he’d be safe out here much longer. His life might already be over, but he didn’t want to ruin his best friend’s day by getting raped right on his doorstep. He doubted the punk would ever forgive him.

So he knocked again, and he waited.

Pretty soon he’d have to give up all his freedom, but until then, he could do this. He could say goodbye. And that had to count for something, right? It’d be his last act as a real person—as a free person—but at least he could make it count. He could be a good pal, give his friend some closure. And that had to make at least some part of this better. Just knowing he did the right thing. His ma had always said you could never go wrong doing the right thing, so that’s what he’d do.

He just wished doing right didn’t always have to hurt so damn much.

Sarah Rogers had just put a loaf of bread in the oven when she heard a knock at the door.

“James, if that’s you, Stevie just left to go meet you at your house. You can catch up with him if you hurry.”

Sarah didn’t normally shout. Omegas were supposed to be quiet and demure by nature. But she’d been free of an Alpha for nearly fourteen years now, and sometimes she liked to revel in the little freedoms that gave her.

She smiled to herself. She could only imagine what Joseph would think if he saw her now. She remembered how he used to call her the neighborhood spitfire back when she was just a kid. He’d been four years older than her, but her antics—and her smart mouth, as he put it—used to amuse him to no end.

Or at least they did until she’d presented.

She could still remember her parents frantically searching for an Alpha to take her. First heats were hard—probably the hardest thing any Omega would ever have to face—but somehow she’d managed to hold on to at least some small shred of rationality as her parents listed off possible candidates. And as soon as she’d heard Joseph’s name, she’d begged them to give her to him. He was just so kind, so funny, so handsome. He’d treat her well. She just knew it.

But even more than that, she knew that he knew her. He understood who she was. He’d never try to extinguish his little spitfire. Not like all the other Alphas. No, Joseph was different. He was someone she could trust, someone she could respect, someone she could possibly even love.

And she’d believed that even as he climbed into her childhood bed and claimed her with both his teeth and his cock.

Sarah rubbed at the old mating bite still scarring her neck.

Her memories of that first heat were vague now, but she could still remember the hope she’d held onto as Joseph took her again and again and again. It wasn’t until after the fever had faded that she realized how deluded she really was. As soon as she could sit up, her mate had explained to her in no uncertain terms just what her life was to be like, who she could speak to, where she could go, and even what she could wear.

Naively, her younger self had still thought she could rebel. But a young Omega was no match for an Alpha’s voice. All it took was a few weeks of command after command after command, and she’d broken. He’d trained her body to obey his every word. But even worse than that, he’d trained her mind to never refuse him. Every day, she’d felt the fire inside her dying more and more until all that remained were embers.

But then the Great War had come. Mustard gas had taken her Joseph away. And all she was left with was a mark on her neck and an unborn baby in her belly.

She thanked God every day that Joseph had at least left her with that. Not only was Stevie the light of her life, but he’d saved her from slavery before he was even born. As rare as Omegas might be, no self-respecting Alpha wanted to claim one that had already been bred. And thanks to all the new widows left behind following the war, laws had been passed to take care of any Omega mother left alone to care for her pups. All Sarah had to do was move into an Omega-friendly apartment, submit to weekly inspections from a government-contracted Alpha case manager, and agree to stay on an on-going regimen of heat suppressants, then she was free to live her life and raise her son almost however she saw fit.

Sometimes she couldn’t believe how blessed her life could be.

But before she could reminisce any longer, she heard it again. Another knock. Softer this time. It was so unlike the loud, door-rattling bangs she’d come to associate with Steve’s best friend that she wondered if maybe it wasn’t the Barnes’ boy after all.

But then who could it be?

Grabbing a nearby dishrag, Sarah quickly wiped the flour off her hands before smoothing down her hair. It was probably just a salesman. Lord knew, she didn’t get many visitors. But still, she’d been rude enough to keep whoever it was waiting this long. The least she could do was make herself look halfway presentable.

Sarah was just about to apologize when she opened the door, but then it hit her. The deep, cloying scent of lavender mixed with … pumpkin pie? She couldn’t place it exactly. The smell was too complex, and she’d never had the best nose to begin with. But it was nice. Very nice. Nice and inviting but with an undercurrent of something else that was far too familiar.

And then her eyes fell on the boy standing at her doorstep, and she realized exactly what that undercurrent was.

“James, get inside now.”

Even Sarah could hear the panic in her own voice, but James just blinked. He staggered. She latched a hand around his elbow and all but dragged him inside, nearly tumbling them both to the ground in the process. But at least he was in. He’d crossed the threshold. And as soon as she’d slammed the door behind him and latched all three deadbolts, she could finally stop to think about what to do next.

Sweet Lord in heaven, what was she going to do next?

Beside her, James had already slumped against the wall. The poor boy’s legs were trembling so hard he could barely stand. His breaths were too fast, his eyes already glazed. Within minutes, the heat would fully overtake him. He’d go down, and Sarah knew full well that she wasn’t strong enough to pull him back up, so she had to make these next seconds count.

His whole future depended on it.

“Come on, son,” she whispered before slipping an arm beneath his shoulders. “You’re fine. We just need to get you in bed, and you’ll be … you’ll be just fine. So come on. That’s it.”

Sarah kept talking even if neither of them were listening. The words didn’t matter. Only the tone. Step by step, they plodded across the tiny apartment until finally she got him into her bed.

“There now.” She pressed a hand against his forehead and frowned at how hot he already felt. “You’re okay.”

But the boy just snorted.

“Both know ’m not,” he slurred.

And then he groaned as a cramp rolled through him hard enough to leave him curled into a ball and gasping for breath.

How could this be happening?

Sarah murmured pretty lies as she stroked his hair and rubbed his back. She tried to comfort him just like she distantly remembered her own mother comforting her. But she knew better than to think any of those reassurances mattered. The life of an Omega wasn’t created for comforts. This poor boy would learn that soon enough. She just wished to God he didn’t have to.

Rummaging through her bedside table, she searched for something that could help with the pain, but all she found were her monthly pills. Where was the aspirin? She would have sworn she’d left the bottle in here. She would have sworn—

A weak hand grabbed her by the wrist.

“Steve.” Her son’s name came out like a breath.

Sarah leaned closer to the boy. “You want to see Steve? Is that it?”

James nodded.

“Need …” He swallowed another deep breath. “Need to tell him goodbye. And sorry. Sorry I had to go … like this.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut.

Not once had she thought about what this would do to her son, but as soon as she did, her heart broke all over again. Oh, Stevie … Her poor boy would be crushed. Ever since he’d dragged a scruffy, brown-haired boy into their home years ago, she’d heard nothing but story after story about the magnificent exploits of one James Buchanan Barnes. She couldn’t begin to describe the hero-worship she’d seen shining out of her son’s eyes every time he talked about his best friend. Though as he grew older, she would have sworn that same admiration was mixed with something else, too.

Once again, she cursed fate’s timing.

If only her son would have presented as an Alpha already, then this whole tragedy might have been salvageable. As it stood, though, there was nothing Sarah could do but send word to the Barneses’ home and let them know the bad news. She hated doing it, but what choice did she have? James was an Omega. Nothing could change that, and nothing could hide it. He’d already entered his first heat. There was no going back, no stopping it, no ….

She remembered the pills in her bedside table, and her eyes flew open.

“James.” Sarah licked her lips, still shocked by her latest thought. “What if … What if you didn’t have to go away after all?”

She waited for a response, but the poor boy was beyond speech already. With his eyes rolled back and his neck instinctually craning for the coming bite, he was the perfect picture of an Omega just waiting to be taken.

Only maybe he didn’t have to be. Maybe he could change his fate. Maybe he could stay with her Stevie at least a little while longer. And that was something, wasn’t it? Certainly, it was more than she’d ever been offered. And she knew that if such a chance had been given to her, she’d have taken it in a heartbeat. She just wished she could be sure he’d do the same.

If you’re going to do it, you have to do it now, Sarah, she told herself. God might not thank you for what you’re about to do, but this boy will thank you even less for being weak.

So she stood up. She rushed to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. She carried it back to her bedroom and with shaking hands, grabbed her bottle of pills from the bedside table.

“James?” She propped his head up with one hand before slipping a single, blue tablet between his parted lips. “Come on, James. I need you to swallow something.”

The boy groaned, but he didn’t fight as she put the pill on the back of his tongue. It took four tries to get him to drink the water, but eventually he swallowed enough to get the medicine down his throat.

“Good boy,” she whispered before gently resting his head back on the pillow. “Just rest. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Or so she hoped.

Dabbing at the moisture now dribbling from his chin, Sarah prayed she’d done the right thing. Heat suppressants were controversial at best. It’d taken years of lobbying to approve their use for widows like her, and even then, some still called them unnatural, addictive, even corrupting.

Such drugs manipulated the very laws of nature, and that in itself was enough reason for them to be banned. But the sad fact was that after the Great War, there’d just been too many widowed Omegas left behind. Their nation couldn’t care for them all. The heat suppressants had been considered both a kindness for them as well as a necessary evil. They allowed Sarah to be able to raise a son on her own without having to worry about losing her mind to the heat every three months.

But not once had anyone ever considered using them to stop an Omega’s first heat. Such an act would be obscene, bordering on evil. It’d warrant prison-time no doubt—possibly a lifetime’s worth. But as Sarah looked down at the boy in her bed, she found that she couldn’t care.

“This is your chance, James,” she whispered. “It’s more than I ever had, so try to make the most of it.”

Then she pulled a chair up to her bedside and sat down to hold vigil. Steve would be back soon. She’d have to figure out some way to keep him from learning the truth, but that shouldn’t be too hard. She’d kept the truth about his father from him for nearly fourteen years. She could keep this secret from him as well. And who knew? Maybe in a couple of years, it wouldn’t even matter. Maybe once Stevie presented, James would tell him the truth himself. He could take a mate that would cherish him in all the ways she’d once wished her own Joseph would have cherished her.

Or maybe she was just telling herself pretty lies to make up for her own guilty conscience.

“You did the right thing,” she told herself. “You gave him a chance. That’s a kindness in itself.”

For you or for him? her own doubts whispered back.

But she couldn’t think about that right now. No, right now, she had a sick boy to look after and evidence to hide. As soon as his scent died off, she’d have to strip down the bed and wash all his clothes. Her living room would need to be aired out, too. Possibly even the kitchen.

But until the heat suppressants kicked in, Sarah let it all be. The smell of pumpkin and lavender really was a nice combination. So inviting. So strong. It was such an appealing scent, she almost wished the boy didn’t have to lose it.

But then again, wishing never got her anywhere in life, so she settled for stroking James’ hair instead.

“You’re going to be okay,” she told him. “Just wait and see. This will all be okay.”

She just wished she could believe those words herself.

Chapter Text

March 1936

Steve Rogers didn’t know what he hated more: the rain or the cold.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew his body was weak. He might have been born an Alpha, but he knew Omegas that could handle more than he could. All it took was a thorough drenching and a stiff breeze, and the resulting cold would be enough to leave him crippled in bed for a week.

He was only seventeen-years-old and already he’d had pneumonia three times. His bouts of bronchitis were so common he’d lost count. And between his asthma and weak heart, the doctors often claimed it was a miracle he’d survived as long as he had.

Given that history, there was no excuse for him to be out like he was right now, caught in the rain without a coat or even an umbrella. It was March, and even though the temperature hadn’t dipped below freezing, every raindrop that hit him felt like ice.

He’d spent half his walk home from school shivering so hard he could barely put one foot in front of the other. Then after a while, the numbness had settled in. it was almost pleasant in a way. And even though he knew he should be at least a little concerned when he lost all feeling in his toes, he couldn’t seem to care. It’d been harder and harder to care about anything lately. Especially now that he knew his mother was dying.

He stumbled up the last few steps to their apartment before fumbling for his key. Half of him wanted to run inside and make sure she was still alive, but the other half hesitated. Not once in his life had he ever let himself back down from a fight. He was an Alpha, after all. Even if he couldn’t win any of his battles, he could at least meet them head on.

But this time was different. This was his mom. And no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he could be just as brave and strong as his father had been—mentally at least, even if not physically—he just didn’t know what he’d do if he walked in to find out he’d already lost her.

But sometimes life didn’t always give him a choice.

The door opened, but instead of his mom, there stood his best friend, the usual cocky grin already plastered across his face.

“I thought I heard somebody prowling around out—” Bucky’s smile dissolved as soon as he caught full sight of Steve. “Christ almighty! What the hell, Steve? You trying to kill yourself or what?”

Bucky grabbed him by the arm before Steve could even answer and all but dragged him through the door.

“I swear to God, Rogers, I always knew you had shit for brains, but this really takes the cake.”

Steve snorted, but he was far too numb to bother with anything else.

He only vaguely noticed as Bucky stripped him out of his clothes. The Beta didn’t once hesitate as he grabbed a towel to dry him off. Head. Chest. Arms. Bucky had just made it to his waist when Steve felt the first hint of something more than simple friendly gratitude stirring between his legs, and he snatched the towel out of Bucky’s hand before it could drift any lower.

“I think I can manage on my own, thanks,” Steve said, and Bucky just rolled his eyes.

“Sure you can, pal. That’s why your fingers are turning blue.”

The Beta cursed under his breath before wrapping a hand around Steve’s shoulders and herding him into bed.

“Here, just stay put while I go get some more blankets. I’ll boil some water, too. Christ, even if you don’t give a damn about yourself, start thinking about me for once. All this worrying’s gonna put me in an early grave.”

Muffled complaining filled the apartment after that. Bucky was too distracted to be bothered with talking to Steve directly, so all Steve got was the occasional “stubborn punk” remark followed by something about “idiot, knothead Alphas” before his best friend practically buried him beneath every available quilt he could find. The routine was so common, Steve couldn’t help but smile.

It was times like these that he really loved Bucky Barnes.

If asked, Steve couldn’t say exactly what it was. There was just something about seeing his normally cocky friend all flustered like this—all real and raw and uncertain—that spoke to Steve’s Alpha instincts.

Not that it should.

Bucky was a Beta. And Alpha males did not pursue Beta males. Even just the thought was taboo.

Sure, Alphas and Betas got together all the time—there were nowhere near enough Omegas to go around and the world did still keep turning—but they always mated opposite genders. Otherwise how would they breed? Betas weren’t anything like Omegas. Omega males could carry pups just as easily as any female, sometimes even better. Most of the females only gave birth to one pup at a time. Steve’s mom was a prime example of that. But a male Omega? Steve had heard that they usually carried multiples and their pups always were almost always big and healthy and strong.

Not like Steve.

A sigh escaped his lips as he sank deeper into his pillow.

What would it be like to be strong like that? How would he feel to not have to worry about his body betraying him every time he even tried to breathe?

Steve had never cared so much about power—not for himself, anyway. He hated seeing other people get bullied. All those Alphas that like to blast their scent and bull their way through life made him sick. He never wanted to be one of those jerks. He just wished that someday he might be strong enough to stand up to one of them and not get clobbered. To make a difference. To do some good.

But that was about as likely as his best friend magically turning into an Omega overnight.

He bit his lip even as he willed the tingling in his crotch to fade.

He shouldn’t think about Bucky like that. And he certainly shouldn’t wish the man could change his designation. Bucky was a Beta and that’s all there was. The guy’d already gotten enough grief from his dad over that fact. He certainly didn’t need Steve’s fucked up expectations adding to his baggage, too.

And besides, it’s not like it would change anything. Bucky would always be Bucky. He was smart and compassionate and protective. He was always quick to look out for the little guy and, unlike Steve, strong enough to finish his fights.

He would have made an excellent Alpha. Mr. Barnes had certainly believed it, too. But after Bucky hit eighteen last year, even his dad had to give up that hope. Bucky was just as scentless as any other Beta. There’d been no rut to mark his designation as an Alpha, no heat to claim his life as an Omega. He was just the same old Bucky. And even though Steve loved him just as much as ever, George’s disappointment had just about crushed his son.

That had to be why Bucky had moved out right after graduation. He’d been working nights at the docks ever since Junior year. He could definitely afford that shitty little one-bedroom rat-trap he’d found (Bucky’s words, not his). But as much as Bucky kept telling him he was doing fine—he really didn’t mind unloading freight for a living—Steve still couldn’t understand why he’d settled for something so meager when he was capable of so much more.

It just didn’t make any sense.

Bucky was smart. He was athletic. Hell, he was even likable. He’d always made good grades, and he’d been the star of almost every sports team he’d joined—at least in Steve’s eyes, anyway. The colleges had loved him, too. He’d received more scholarship offers than Steve could have ever dreamed of. But then the jerk had just gone and turned them all down.

Why?

Steve shook his head.

As much as he admired James Buchannan Barnes, the man sure could be an idiot sometimes.

Steve didn’t know how long he’d been lost in thought, but before he knew it, Bucky was back with a hot mug of tea in one hand and an open kettle in the other.

“Here.” He thrust the cup at Steve. “You can at least hold it till it cool enough to drink. Those fingers of yours still look more like icicles than flesh.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You do know I’m not completely helpless. Right, Buck?”

Bucky shrugged. “You keep saying one thing, but I keep seeing another.”

“Jerk,” Steve muttered.

“Punk.”

And just like that, they were back to being friends. Just friends. Any of Steve’s one-side longing faded along with the blue in his fingertips, and it was just like old times again. Just how it should be. No dirty thoughts. No secret crushes. Just him and his pal. Him and Bucky.

Steve didn’t know what he’d ever do without Bucky.

“Why are you even over here, Buck?” Steve couldn’t help but ask. “I thought you were working today.”

“Nah.” Bucky pulled up a chair. “My shift got moved to tonight. Thought I’d drop by and see how your ma was doing. She’d asked me to pick up her medicine anyway.”

Guilt hit Steve right then, and from the look on Bucky’s face, it showed.

His ma.

How could he have forgotten about his ma?

He could smell his own scent already deepening with shame, and Bucky squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, pal. She’s still holding on.” His friend’s voice was softer now, the bravado all gone. “No way a little cough’s going to take Sarah Rogers down. She’s a fighter just like you. She’ll make it. Just watch. You’ll see.”

But as much as Steve wanted to believe the words, he knew enough from his own illnesses to know when a cough was a cough and when a cough was something else. And right now that something else was tuberculosis. Every doctor had confirmed it. His ma’s lungs were so shot she couldn’t even get out of bed anymore. She hadn’t even managed a proper bath in a week. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s and Mrs. Barnes’ near-constant visits, Steve didn’t think he’d have ever left the house. School just didn’t seem important anymore. Not in the face of this.

“I need to see her.” Steve pushed at his covers, but Bucky just pulled them back up.

“No, what you need to do is warm up and get some rest.” The Beta let out a long-suffering breath. “Listen, punk, I know you want to help, but you’re not going to do anybody any good by getting yourself sick, too.”

“But she’s all alone,” Steve argued. “If something happens to her—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Bucky argued. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go sit with her, alright? You’ve just got to promise you’ll keep your scrawny ass in bed. Got it?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Buck …”

“Got it?”

“Fine,” Steve gave in. “Fine. I won’t move. Just … Just let me know if anything changes, okay?”

“You know it, pal.” Bucky smiled again.

He made a big fuss of making sure Steve drank every last bit of his tea before filling the mug up again and then leaving. The room felt so much emptier as soon as Bucky left, and for the first time since coming home, Steve realized just how tired he really felt.

He’d just close his eyes for a moment. Bucky was here. He’d take care of everything. He always did. Steve loved his ma, but when it came to having his back, he knew he didn’t trust anyone on earth as much as he trusted Buck. He was his rock. As much as he knew losing his ma was going to hurt, he knew he’d get through it. But if he ever lost Bucky …

A guilty pain twinged inside his chest, and he bit his lip to quell it.

He had to stop thinking like this. It was starting to become an obsession. But even as he told himself that Bucky was his friend—just his friend—he couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to another life. A better life. A life where Steve was strong and tall and healthy, and Bucky had a scent that would send any Alpha spiraling over the edge.

In that life, Bucky would bare his neck. He’d beg Steve to sink his teeth into his flesh and mark him as his. He’d moan in ecstasy as Steve claimed him, and they’d be happy. They’d be so damn happy.

Sometimes just thinking about that happiness felt so real it actually hurt.

But of course, those were just fantasies. Steve wasn’t deluded enough to think a life like that could ever be real. Bucky was a Beta, and Steve was weak. He’d never find an Omega of his own. Hell, he doubted even a Beta gal would take him. Not that he wanted one to. Fucked up as his desires might be, he couldn’t deny that there was only one person in this world he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And if the only way he could do that was by being his friend, then he’d take whatever he could get.

After all, he did still have his dreams.

*****

Sarah Rogers couldn't breathe.

First she was coughing. Then she was choking. She struggled for air, but try as she might, she couldn't get any in. Blood filled her mouth. It choked her throat.

Vaguely, she realized she'd woken up only to live through what would probably be the last moment of her life.

Stevie, she thought.

She couldn't bear to let her son find her like this. But even worse was the thought of him seeing her go. He was too young. He hadn't even finished school. He didn't need this horror heaped upon him. Not when he already had so many others to bear.

She was so worried about her little boy that she barely felt the hands lifting her up.

"Here," a voice said. "You're okay."

Then a soft cloth was pressed against her lips, and she hacked into it until all the blood was gone and her lungs could finally breathe again.

"Better?"

She nodded.

Her chest still wheezed, but at least there was air coming in and out again. She felt the cloth move away from her mouth. A moment later, a fresh one was wiping her face.

"Thank you, James."

Those three words left her breathless again, but James pretended not to notice. He was good about that. Always kind. Always gentle. Never patronizing or pitying. She appreciated it. As an Omega, she'd spent enough of her life having people tell her she was weak. Even if her body was giving out on her now, she welcomed not being reminded of it in the end.

It was her death after all. And she'd damn well meet it on her own terms.

Behind her, James propped up her pillows before settling her back down again.

"You don't have to thank me for anything, Sarah," he told her. "You know that's not how we work."

She smiled at that, and he smiled right back.

Oh, but James Barnes was a handsome boy.

Man, Sarah, she reminded herself. He's a man now.

Gone was the little boy her son had dragged home when he was seven-years-old, and here instead was the man he'd become. Tall. Strong. Charming. She'd watched him swagger and flirt with some of the local Beta girls, and Sarah wasn't ashamed to admit that if she'd been in one of their places, she might just have fallen for him, too.

But of course, that was just wistful thinking. She was nearly twenty years his senior and an Omega besides. Her kind didn't have the luxury of courtships and flirtations. Just mating. Which brought her back to a subject she'd been meaning to broach.

"I'm worried about you, James." Her voice might have been whisper-soft, but her hand squeezed his to emphasize the point. "Have you thought any more about what you're going to do when I'm gone?"

The man looked away. "To tell you, the truth, I try not to think about the future too much."

"It's still coming," she said.

"I know."

"If you run out of suppressants--"

"Then I'll be claimed by the first Alpha that smells me or thrown into some institution for wayward Omegas." He ran a hand through his hair. "Trust me, I know the risks. But what choice do I have? I'll just have to make do with the pills I have left then figure out something else when the time comes."

Sarah reached up to stroke his cheek.

She knew he was struggling to keep up a brave front. James never had been one to share his problems. But she could see the fear in his eyes. He might already be a man, but it was during times like these that all she could think about was the sick boy she'd found panting on her doorstep three years ago.

"Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing," she whispered.

And this time it was his turn to clasp her hand in both of his.

"Don't you ever think that." His voice was low but earnest, his eyes focused and hard. "You saved my life that day. If you hadn't given me that pill ..." He paused for breath and shook his head. "God, I don't want to think about what would have happened then. I can never thank you enough for what you did--what you've continued to do. I owe you everything, Sarah Rogers. Everything."

He pressed his lips against her knuckles, and she didn't have any words.

For years now, it'd been their near-unspoken secret. The pill she'd given him had quelled his heat before it had a chance to fully take hold. She'd hidden his condition from both James' parents and Steve. A stomach flu, she'd told them. That's why she'd isolated him in her bedroom. Better to keep him away lest everyone get sick. She'd even managed to convince Winnie Barnes to let Steve stay over with them a few nights while she nursed the woman's son back to health.

Everything had worked out so smoothly. She almost couldn't believe she'd gotten away with it even now. And when James had been lucid enough to hear what she'd done, all he'd done was thank her. He'd gone along with her plan. She'd shared her monthly suppressants, and when she'd run out, she'd gone to a different doctor to get a new prescription then returned to the first when her original pills should have run out.

Two doctors. Two prescriptions. Two Omegas. But only one name. Hers.

In the end, it had been ridiculously easy. They filled at two different pharmacies, of course. The corner drug store, she kept. But there was another smaller place across town—a place that didn't ask why a Beta male would be running errands for a widowed Omega—and James took her second prescription there. He even got a nearby job at the docks just so he'd have an excuse for being in the area. That, and to pay for the drugs, too. Sarah had a stipend to cover hers, but it wasn't enough to pay for double. And if there was one thing she knew in life, it was that James Buchannan Barnes refused to accept charity.

For three years, they'd kept up the game, but now the rules were changing. Soon she'd be dead. Between her leftover pills as well as his own, James might have enough to last another eight months. But there'd be no more double-dipping after that. They needed a new plan. And even if James didn't want to face that reality, Sarah refused to shy away from it.

She was the one who'd gotten him into this after all.

"You know, James, there are other options," Sarah said. "Steven's an Alpha."

James shook his head. "No."

"He'd be good to you, James," she told him. "He thinks the world of you."

"Only because the stupid punk doesn't know any better," James muttered. "Besides, we're just friends."

"Some mates start out as friends," Sarah pushed.

"Yeah, and some get sold off to the highest bidder." James snorted. "You really think anybody's gonna give me to Stevie when you've got rich old geezers waiting in line to have first crack at a male Omega? Hell, as soon as my old man finds out, he'll probably set an auction block up in the living room. Might as well get some kind of return on that bad investment of a son, right?"

Sarah smiled sadly up at James.

She doubted George Barnes would ever go to such lengths. The man had his problems, but it was clear to her at least that he did dearly love his son. That's why he'd taken James's designation so hard. Not so much because he was disgusted by his boy as he was disgusted by himself and his own inability to give his son the life and status he thought he deserved.

Or at least that was Sarah's theory. She kept it to herself, though. After all, she might be wrong. And besides, his father’s attitude really wasn't the point right now.

"I can understand your worries, James," Sarah told him. "But if you just told Stevie, if you made sure he was nearby when your heat did come, he could claim you first. You'd be his. And once you have his mark, no one could take you from him. You'd be safe."

But James was already shaking his head. "No. Just no."

"James ..."

"I said no!"

He slammed his hand down on her bedside table, and they both cringed at his outburst. From the other room, they heard a snort, then a snore, then the apartment was silent again.

Both of them let out the breath they'd been holding.

"Look." James's voice shook when he finally spoke again. "I just ... I can't, okay? I can't just stop being a person and be somebody's possession. I don't wanna belong to anybody. I just wanna be me. You get that right?"

Sarah swallowed before nodding.

Yes, she got that.

She got that far too well.

"Besides, no offense to your son, but I don't exactly see him that way." He smirked as he shrugged. "Steve's a great guy and all, but I’ve kind of got a thing for dames."

Sarah smiled back. "So I've heard."

Then they both chuckled until Sarah's laughter dissolved into a fit of coughing.

"Well, then," she said after she'd caught her breath. "If you won't take the easy way out, I suppose we'll have to go for option two."

She told him to open the bottom drawer of her chest. A huge stack of papers, bills, and old letters lay hidden away inside. He brought them to her when asked, and she sifted through them until she found the overstuffed envelope she was looking for.

"Open it," she told him, and when he did, his brow furrowed.

"What ... Where did you get all these?"

He laid out the stack of prescriptions she'd horded away months ago, and she smiled again.

"I swiped them from my clinic." She shrugged when he gaped back at her. "What? I was a kid once. I used to prowl these streets just the same as you, James Barnes. You think I didn't learn how to pick a pocket in my day, too?"

James shook his head, speechless.

"Go ahead," she said. "Take them. They're yours. I forged some. Others are blank. You should ... should be able to keep using my name ... even after I'm gone. I doubt anyone will notice."

Or care, she thought.

Other than Steve and James, she couldn't imagine anyone else would mourn for her when she died.  That's just how it was for Omegas. Mate and family was to be her purpose. Friends were nothing but a distraction. Ever since she'd presented, her whole world had revolved around her home, and for over a decade she'd barely strayed more than a few blocks away from it. Such was her lot in life. And as much as she feared what might happen if James chose to remain hidden, she couldn't say she blamed him either.

If she'd ever been given that choice, she knew she would have chosen the same.

Sarah didn't even realize she'd started coughing again until James wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The cloth was pressed against her mouth again. When he pulled it away, it was covered in red.

"Don't let Stevie see me like this." She wheezed.

"I won't," he said.

"He's a good boy." She didn't remember it being this hard to breathe before. "Glad..." She coughed again. "Glad he has you."

"Still has you, too, you know."

His expression was just as soft as his voice, and Sarah's heart clenched as she looked up at him.

James really did have a wonderful bedside manner. He would have made her Stevie such a wonderful mate. But of course, that wasn't meant to be.

"Just promise me ..." She fought for breath. "Promise me you'll take care of..."

"Don't worry, Sarah. I'll keep an eye on the punk." James pulled the covers up to her chest. "I won't ever let anything happen to Stevie on my watch. I promise."

But that hadn't been what she'd wanted to say.

She'd meant to tell James to take care of himself. He’d be all on his own after she left. And as much as she worried about her own son, she knew deep down that Steve would be okay. Despite his frail body, he was still an Alpha, and the world was made for his kind.

But for an Omega, life was different. And for an Omega as alone as James ...

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Just more coughing.

The world darkened as James cleaned her lips again. He was saying something, but she couldn't make it out. She was too tired.

I'll just close my eyes, she thought.

All she needed was a moment's rest, and then she would straighten him out. She'd tell him all the things she'd been meaning to say but hadn't yet. Like how she was so proud of him. And how much she loved him. And how she was so very, very grateful to have had him as a friend.

But first she needed to catch her breath. Maybe even get some sleep. Not much. Just a little. Just enough to quell that aching in her head. Perhaps even get rid of that stabbing in her chest, too.

She still had so much to say, but it had held this long. A few more minutes wouldn't make any difference. No, a few more minutes wouldn't make any difference at all. So she settled deeper into her pillow. She let herself drift. And she promised, when she woke up, she'd make sure James heard everything she had to say.

All she needed was a little more time.

*****

Bucky listened to the last breath of air leave Mrs. Rogers’ lips, and he lowered his head.

Sarah, he reminded himself. She wanted you to call her Sarah.

It was funny how something as small as that seemed so important right now, but it did.

Rogers was her married name. Ma was just a title she’d gotten after having Steve. But Sarah was hers and hers alone.

Sometimes I think that name is the only thing of mine I have left, she’d confessed to him one day years ago. It’s nice to hear somebody say it for a change. Makes me feel like real people.

And he could understand that. Maybe not so much when he was younger, but now he could all too well.

“You were always a person to me, Sarah,” he told her as he wiped the blood from her cooling lips. “Even before I knew what I was, you were still a person.”

He spent the next few minutes cleaning her up. Death was never pretty. He’d heard people say it before, but he’d never appreciated what they meant until now.

So Bucky washed her face. He tidied her hair. He folded her hands over her chest and smoothed down the covers. He made her look just as perfect as he could, and only then did he stand up to get Steve.

“I meant it when I said I’d take care of him,” he told her before leaving. “So don’t you worry. I won’t ever let anything happen to your son. Not on my watch. I can promise you that.”

Then he picked up the envelope she’d given him. He stuffed the stolen prescriptions in his back pocket before putting all of her other papers back where they belonged. And he finally walked to the door.

“Thank you,” he said one last time. “For everything.”

Then he stepped out.

All he had left to do now was tell his best friend that his mother was dead. Simple really. And afterwards he’d spend the rest of his life fulfilling his promise. He’d keep the punk safe, watch his back, and do everything he could to make sure Stevie got to live the life he deserved. And that had to count for something, right? Bucky might not be able to make any other difference in the world, but this he could do. He swore he would. He’d stand by Stevie’s side right up to the end of the line.

Or at least, he reminded himself, until the suppressants run out.

Chapter Text

September 1940

"You know you don't owe him anything, right?"

"Becca ..."

"No, Bucky, I'm serious. I know he's your friend, but one of these days you're going to have to learn how to put yourself first. Don't you think he would if your roles were reversed?"

Bucky shook his head. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"And you have no idea how badly you're being used." Becca's voice was loud enough to turn several heads down the street. "Damn it, Bucky, Steve Rogers isn't some ten-year-old runt you have to watch out for anymore. He's twenty-two-years-old and an Alpha to boot. If he can't take care of himself by now, that's his tough luck. Not yours."

The words hit Steve just as hard as any blow, but the Alpha forced himself to keep his body absolutely still.

This is what you get for eavesdropping, he told himself, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't meant to listen in. All he'd wanted was some fresh air, so he'd stepped out on the apartment's fire escape. He hadn't even known Bucky and his sister were standing on the street below. He'd have probably never noticed them if not for their raised voices, but he sure as hell noticed them now.

And so did half the block.

Steve let his head fall against the bricks behind him. Down below, Bucky was livid. He could hear it in the tone of the man's voice, even if the guy had lowered his volume enough to muffle his words. Becca, on the other hand, just kept getting louder and louder.

"I'm telling you, Steve Rogers is not the guy you think he is," Becca went on. "If he cared about you half as much as he cared about himself, he'd see how much he's dragging you down. For God's sake, anyone can see it. Just look at you. You're exhausted all the time. You're always pulling double shifts down at the docks."

"That's my choice, Becca."

"And it's one you wouldn't have to make if a certain someone would learn how to pull his own weight for a change." Becca's thick curls bounced as she shook her head. "I'm only saying this because you're my brother and I love you, but you are an idiot, James Barnes. And if you don't watch out, Steve Rogers is going to be the end of you."

From his perch up above, Steve couldn't make out what Bucky said after that. The only words he caught were "friend" and "goodbye." Then the Beta stormed out of view while Becca still stood on the sidewalk where he'd left her. Back rigid and hands clenched, she stared after her brother for several long seconds before slowly turning her eyes up to the shadows where Steve sat.

So that's what this was.

They stared at each other silently. Becca arched an eyebrow, and Steve tipped his head in acknowledgement.

Yeah, he wanted to say. Don't worry. I get the message.

And he did.

More than she'd ever know.

Flinging his legs back over the windowsill, Steve climbed back into the apartment. Bucky's apartment, he reminded himself. Or at least it was supposed to be. After all, Bucky was the only one paying rent.

Which just went to prove how right the man’s sister really was.

Steve scowled before letting out a curse.

Why the hell did he always have to be so blind?

Looking back, he remembered how his best friend had first talked him into moving into the place. "We can put the couch cushions on the floor just like when we were kids," the guy had said. "It'll be fun. All you have to do is shine my shoes. Maybe take out the trash."

Pride had forced Steve to shoot down the offer at first, but Bucky had just been so damned persistent. Or maybe Steve had just been weak. Either way, all Bucky'd had to do was tell him how he'd be with him till the end of the line, and Steve had completely folded. He'd taken the charity. He'd moved in the next day. And he'd been leaching off his best friend ever since.

One look around the apartment itself was proof of that.

Like a parasite, Steve had crept in and invaded every corner of his host's home. His own sketchbooks filled the top shelf of Bucky's bookcase. His laundry littered the bedroom's floor. A whole shelf in the kitchen cabinets was devoted to nothing other than Steve's meds while a dedicated first aid kit sat under the bathroom sink just waiting for the next time Steve hobbled home from a fight.

And worst of all, not once had Bucky ever complained. He just kept taking on more and more of Steve's shit—both literally and figuratively—never once noticing that the more he took, the more he lost as well.

The couch alone was proof of that.

Steve had already counted no less than twenty-three other ways he'd been a burden to his friend when the front door finally opened and in walked Bucky. The smell of cigarette smoke clung to his skin. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes. But as soon as his gaze lit upon Steve, he smiled.

"Hey, buddy, you getting ready to go out? Cause if you're not doin' much, there's this picture playing over at the theater on—"

"I'm leaving."

Bucky blinked. "Oh, okay. You know if you're coming back for dinner? Otherwise I'll just have a sandwich. I know it's my turn to cook, but if you're out I don't see any reason why—"

"No." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. "I mean I'm leaving leaving. As in moving out."

"Moving out?" Bucky frowned. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

"It's not coming from anywhere." Steve ran a hand through his hair. Why were they both repeating each other? "Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me, Buck, but it's past time I got a place of my own. I've been thinking and—"

"Sure you have, pal."

Bucky planted a hand on Steve's chest, but he wasn't looking at him. Instead, the Beta's gaze was fixed on the open window leading out to the fire escape.

Shit.

Bucky gave him an appraising look. "Don't suppose any of those thoughts you've been thinking have anything to do with what a certain loud-mouthed little girl was yelling down the street not five minutes ago."

Steve frowned. "Your sister isn't a little girl anymore, Buck."

"So you were listening in on me and Becca?"

"I wasn't listening in on anything," Steve snapped. "I just heard what I heard."

"Yeah, a bunch of bullshit."

"No, the truth," Steve argued. "Becca was right about every last thing she said. You can't deny it."

Only it turned out Bucky could.

Vehemently.

"Damn it, Buck," Steve finally cut in. "Just look at your life. First you take me in. Then you practically put me through art school."

"Hey, I just helped out a little here and there." Bucky punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Figured you'd make a good investment."

"And how's that working out for you?" Steve pressed. "Two years of college, and I still can't find a steady job. Hell, half the time I can't even sell enough solo works to cover the cost of supplies."

"So what?" Bucky shrugged. "We get a few more pictures on the wall? Don't see how that's a problem. Far as I can see, you're just classing the place up."

"Bucky ..." Steve all but growled.

"Oh, would you just drop the dramatic Alpha shit already?" The Beta rolled his eyes. "So you're in a slump. It's frustrating. I get it. But just think, in five—let's say ten years, tops—when you're some famous artist with paintings going for ten grand a pop—"

Now it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes.

"—you can pay me back then. Hell, maybe even throw in a little interest, too. I wouldn't even be opposed to a few friendly gifts. I mean, a car would be nice. Possibly even a house. I prefer two-stories just so you know. And don't forget to leave room for a library. One with a view if you can swing it, but I'm not that picky, just as long as it has plenty of light."

Steve shook his head, but he was smiling now.

"So I'm just your retirement plan, is that it?"

"What can I say?" Bucky shrugged. "I like to plan ahead."

"And if your investment flops?"

"Then at least I've still got somebody to shine my shoes. And that's worth a lot right there. You know how much I hate scuffs."

Steve snorted, but before he could say anything else, Bucky leaned in close and squeezed his shoulder. The action was so familiar—so intimate—that any other words Steve might have had dried up in the back of his throat.

Talk about being weak.

"Listen, punk, this is your home, too, so don't even think about running out on me," the jerk told him. "I mean it. When I said till the end of the line, I wasn't kidding around. So quit with the stupid already and go grab your jacket. The Kenmore's replaying that Grant and Fairbanks picture we missed last year, and I ain't letting us miss it again."

Steve knew he should have fought harder, argued, hell even just brought up the damn couch. Bucky had been sleeping on it for over a year now. Ever since Steve's last bout with pneumonia two winters ago, his friend had refused to let the Alpha sleep anywhere near their drafty front door. He'd claimed it was as much for his peace of mind as it was for Steve's health. But as much as he'd tried to make Steve feel better, all it took was walking past that blanket-covered monstrosity to send shame swelling up inside Steve's chest.

Their sofa shouldn't look like some half-hearted attempt at an Omega's nest, and a Beta like Bucky sure as hell shouldn't be sleeping on it. He should have better. Steve should be able to give him better. But he couldn't manage that just like he couldn't manage to walk away.

Some Alpha he'd turned out to be.

"Come on, punk." Bucky tossed a jacket at him when Steve still hadn't moved from his spot. "I know it's September, but there's a storm rolling in. Can't have you getting soaked before we hit Gunga Din."

And then he threw an arm over Steve's shoulder, and that was all it took to get the smaller man moving.

Pathetic, Rogers, Steve told himself. Really pathetic.

The walk to the theater didn't take long. Bucky talked as they went, but Steve was still too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear much of what the other guy said. He just kept thinking about Becca's words. She'd been right—everything she'd said had been so right—yet Bucky had refused to believe her.

Why?

You know why, a quiet voice whispered deep down inside him. Or at least you hope you know why.

And that's what it all boiled down to, wasn't it? Nothing but hope.

The hope that he could be better.

The hope that he could be stronger.

The hope that he could be something good enough to make his friend see him as not just the charity case he was, but as the person Steve wished he could be. That person was someone Bucky deserved—someone Bucky would want—and not just in the friends-till-the-end kind of way. But in the more-than-friends kind of way.

Hopefully in the much-more-than-friends kind of way.

Steve felt his cheeks flush as the thought popped into his mind, and it was all he could do to smile and nod as Bucky lit into another story about his latest escapade with some girl named Bonnie. Or maybe it was Connie. Last week Steve would have sworn Bucky had gone out with a dame named Dot, but maybe he was wrong. He made it a point not to listen in too closely when the Beta started talking about the ladies. His squirming was an endless sort of amusement to his best friend, but the truth was, if Bucky really knew why Steve didn't want to listen, he'd probably kick the Alpha out on the street the very next day.

And he'd be right to, Steve told himself.

Bucky didn't deserve to be the focus of Steve's sick obsession. And that's all it was—just an obsession. Steve had tried to deny it time and time again, but every time he did, it's like his desires just grew back stronger. His Alpha instincts had gone haywire.

What was wrong with him anyway?

Steve shouldn't spend most of his nights thinking about what it'd be like to sink his teeth into his best friend's neck. He shouldn't want to claim him and scent him and bond with him in all the ways an Alpha would with an Omega. Not when Bucky was a Beta. Alphas didn't do that kind of stuff with Betas. They couldn't. And if Steve's mind wasn't so messed up, it would know that. It'd recognize that Bucky didn't have a scent. It'd understand that the man could never be a true mate and just move on.

Only it didn't.

And that's why Steve had to constantly turn his mind to other matters. Like a job. He needed to find a job. A real one. Not just some gig work, but an actual, steady career. Maybe then he could pull his weight. Repay some debts. And after that, he could find a place of his own. It was about time anyway. And honestly, it'd probably be for the best.

As much as Bucky claimed he wasn't a burden, Steve knew it wouldn't be long before one of those gals Bucky picked up would end up being the one his friend wouldn't want to let go. The Beta would get married. He'd have kids, a family. And even though the very idea of it made Steve's heart want to crumble, he wouldn't begrudge Bucky any of it.

James Buchanan Barnes was a good man. He deserved a good life. And Steve swore he'd do whatever it took to make sure his friend got one. And if that meant Steve had to step out of the picture, then so be it. He could do that, too.

He might not be strong enough to do much else, but at least he could manage that.

He hoped.

Steve had just come to that conclusion when he realized he was walking alone. Looking back, he saw Bucky standing in front of a news stand. A light drizzle had already begun to fall, but the brunette didn't seem to notice. His gaze was locked on the papers in front of him.

"Bucky?" Steve slowly approached him. "Everything okay?"

The Beta didn't look up. He didn't move. He just kept staring at the newsprint in front of him until he finally said, "He signed it."

Steve frowned. "Huh?"

"Roosevelt." Bucky's jaw clenched. "The Selective Service Act. Says the president signed it yesterday. First draft will start up a month from now. All male Alphas and Betas from twenty-one to thirty-five have to register. Any guy picked in the lottery will have to serve twelve months, no questions asked."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" Steve smiled. "If they're already rolling out the draft, that means we're one step closer to declaring war on Germany. And it's about time, too. We should have joined the fight the second Hitler invaded Poland. It's not right us sitting out while the rest of Europe is under siege. America should be better than that."

Just the thought of the US sitting out as long as it had was enough to send Steve into a twenty-minute-long rant most days, but the rain was beginning to pick up and the film would be starting soon. They needed to get going.

Only Bucky remained rooted to the spot.

"Come on, Buck," Steve said. "We're getting soaked."

"Hmm?" The Beta blinked several times. "Oh. Oh, yeah, sure."

Bucky fell into step beside Steve again, but during the rest of their walk, he barely said two words. Steve tried to carry the conversation. He talked about enlistment and training. He'd need to get in shape first if he wanted the army to take him. Maybe he could try lessons at the local boxing gym. Bucky used to train there back in high school. The two of them could get memberships and hit the bags together. Bucky could even give him a few pointers. Lord knew Steve could use them. When it came to bare-knuckle fighting, he'd had a whole lot of practice in his life, but very little success. It'd be nice to know he could win a fight every once in a while.

"What do you say, Buck?" Steve asked as they stood in line to buy tickets. "That sound good to you?"

The brunette blinked. "Hmm? I'm sorry. What?"

"Boxing," Steve repeated. "You and me. Training together. Getting in shape for enlistment. Weren't you listening to anything I've been talking about?"

"Of course I've been listening," Bucky grumbled. "Just been thinking, too. A guy can do both, you know."

"Well, sure," Steve said. "A guy can. As for you ..."

Bucky shoved him from behind. "Shut up, punk."

"Jerk." Steve caught him with an elbow.

And just like that, everything was normal again.

Mostly.

They caught the early showing of Gunga Din that night. And even though Bucky was the one who'd first wanted to see it, Steve felt like the movie might as well have been made just for him.

Honor, service, and duty. Friendship, bravery, and sacrifice. The film had it all. Steve had always liked a good swashbuckling picture just as well as the next guy, but this one was special. There was just something about the loyalty those three British soldiers had for one another. It's like they really understood what "till the end of the line" meant. Nothing and nobody could keep them apart.

Even when Sergeant Ballantine's girl told him he could either leave the service or leave her, he still chose his friends.

"The trouble is, you don't want a man for a husband," Ballantine told her. "You want a coward who will run out on his friends! Well, that's not me, never was, and never will be. I don't care how much I love you! And I do very much. I'm a soldie— I mean, I'm a man first!"

Steve got so swept up in the speech, he looked over to see if Bucky was just as caught up, in it too.

"Now that's a man for you," Steve whispered, but all Bucky did was hum.

"Sorry. What?"

Steve frowned. "Buck, are you even watching?"

A rush of shushing flooded the air around them. Steve ducked his head, embarrassed, but Bucky didn't even slouch. The guy just kept staring ahead with that same vacant look on his face.

What was wrong with him tonight?

"Bucky?" Steve tried to get some kind of response, but his friend just kept tuning him out. "Buck, are you okay?"

The Beta mumbled something about being fine, but Steve couldn't hear much over the old woman shushing him from behind. Not that he could blame her. It wasn't right for him to ruin the film for everyone else, so he settled back in his seat and watched the rest of the picture. Whatever was going on with Buck could wait for now. He'd bring it back up when the movie let out.

Or at least he told himself he would.

As the picture went on, though, Steve couldn't help but get caught up again. Especially at the end. Throughout much of the film, the movie's title character had been the butt of most of the soldiers' jokes. But at the end, it was the small and weak Gunga Din who truly saved the day. He'd sacrificed his life to save his friends, and he'd been honored for it. He finally got his one true wish—to became an officer—even if it did occur after his death.

But more than any of that, the guy had made a difference. His death meant something. He died saving his friends' lives, and in Steve's eyes, that was about as good a death as anybody could ever hope for.

Certainly better than any end he'd thought possible for himself.

By the time they left the theater, Steve couldn't get the little Indian water carrier out of his mind.

"If the US had more guys like Gunga Din, we wouldn't even have to worry about a draft," Steve said as he and Bucky walked home. "Everybody would just do the right thing. They'd sign up on their own, no matter the cost. Right, Buck?"

"Hmm? Yeah, sure."

"Then that's just what I'm going to do. If a guy like Gunga Din can make a difference, then so can I."

For the first time in a while, the brunette seemed to take note of what Steve was saying.

"You do know we haven't even declared war yet." Bucky arched an eyebrow. "No sense in signing up for something that might not happen."

"And no sense in not preparing for something that probably will," Steve countered. "Come on, Buck. You and me. We can start training tomorrow. What do you say?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I thought you wanted to be an artist."

"I'm not saying I don't," Steve said. "I'm just saying if the war's coming, we might as well be prepared, right?"

A pensive look crossed the Beta's face. "Prepared, huh?"

"It only makes sense. We might not be able to stop what's coming, but we can get ready for it. Together." Steve held out his hand. "So what's it gonna be? You still with me till the end of the line?"

Bucky's lips slowly curled into a smile. He rolled his eyes again but shook Steve's hand none the less.

"Like always, punk. Where else would I be?"

And that was that. A pact and a promise all in one. Steve knew it wouldn't last forever, but for now, he could at least imagine that he and Bucky would be just as inseparable as those three sergeants in the film. Loyalty, duty, and friendship: that's what they had, and that's what mattered. Not what some silly dame said. Just them. Him and Bucky. Together till the end.

Just like they were meant to be.

Because as much as Steve told himself he could let the other man go, deep in his heart he knew he never would. It wasn't even possible. His feelings might be futile, but that didn't change anything. Steve Rogers knew he'd never love anyone else as much as he loved Bucky Barnes. But even if he and the Beta could never have the relationship he wanted, at least they could have this.

Friendship.

True friendship.

And that was something Steve swore he'd fight for.

All the way till the end of the line.

Chapter Text

June 1942

Bucky's hands shook as he stared down at the letter in his hand.

                ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION

The President of the United States,

    To       James             Buchannan          Barnes  

           ^{(First name)            (Middle name)         (Last name)}

                         Order No       326  _        

Greeting:

    Having submitted yourself to a local board

composed of your neighbors for the purpose of

determining your availability for training and service

in the armed forces of the United States, you are

hereby notified that you have been selected for

training and service in the      Army    .

    You will, therefore, report to the local board

named above at     National Guard Armory   

at   7:30 a   m, on the  6th   day of   July  , 19  42  .

There was more to the letter than just that. There were instructions for transportation, warnings about failing to report, and a reminder to arrange all affairs prior to induction. At the top was the official seal of the Selective Service System while at the bottom was the signature of some guy Bucky had never met. But none of that seemed to matter nearly as much as that one date typed across the middle of the page.

July 6^th, 1942.

Today was already June 26^th. That only left him ten days until he had to report. Just ten measly days. What could he possibly do in just ten days?

Enough, he told himself. Whatever you do, it'll have to be enough.

And that was the truth of it right there. For nearly two years now, he'd been preparing for just this moment. Ever since he'd read about Roosevelt signing the Selective Services Act, he'd known there'd be no way out for him. He was young, fit, and believed-to-be a Beta. The only way the government wouldn't take him was if they knew the truth about his designation, and no way was he letting that little secret slip. Better to die a free man than be alive and owned. And who knows? Before he bit a German bullet, maybe he could do a little good while he was there. Advance the line. Further the cause. Fight for freedom and all the rest of that shit all the local boys had been spouting before they ran off and signed up in December. At least then maybe he could say his life hadn't been a complete waste. Maybe it'd be worth dying to know that at least he'd done his part.

Bucky closed his eyes as he folded up the letter and slid it into his back pocket. As much as he tried to brush it off, his hands were still shaking. His heart was pounding. 

Terror filled half of his being while disgust topped off the rest.

What the hell was wrong with him anyway?

If he had even a lick of honor, he'd have never been drafted in the first place. No, he would have signed up right after Pearl Harbor. That's what all the decent guys had done, so why was he any different? Because he was an Omega? What kind of an excuse was that anyway? If he could pull his own weight at the docks, he could pull his own weight in the Army. He just had to be a little more careful, that's all. As long as he kept taking his pills, no one would ever know the truth. And if no one ever found out the truth, then no one could ever force him into a life he didn't want to live.

And in the end, that was what scared him the most: the thought of being forced, of having all his choices stripped away, of being controlled and manipulated and owned in every last sense of the word.

And isn't that Army life right there? He snickered. You can be an Omega or a soldier, Bucky Barnes, but either way, you sure as hell ain't gonna be free. Guess that's just fate's way of pissing in your face.

But at least soldiering wasn't forever. Life as an Omega though ...

Bucky took a deep breath and opened his eyes again.

To hell with all of this. Wallowing wasn't getting him anywhere. What he needed to do right now was act, so that's just what he'd do: act.

In every last sense of the word.

He rushed home first. It was still mid-morning. Steve usually got off work early on Fridays, but if Bucky hurried, he could probably get in and out of the apartment before the Alpha ever got back. By the time he made it through the door it was already one o'clock, but the place was still empty. Swiping whatever prescriptions he had left—as well as all of the money he'd hidden away inside the couch cushions—he lit out again. He just hoped he could hit more than one pharmacy before they all closed.

Over the course of the next week, it was more of the same.

Bucky worked nights at the docks but spent most of his days roaming the city. He targeted every unsuspecting druggist he could find. And each time, he gave them the same story.

"I'm so sorry to ask this," he'd tell whoever was working the counter, "but I've got this friend who shipped out a couple months ago, and I promised the guy I'd look out for his mom while he was gone. Problem is, I've got to head off to Basic next week, and the woman's an Omega. She's literally got nobody else but me to pick up these pills for her every month. So is there any way we could fill a whole year's worth just this once? It'd at least give her some time to figure something else out, and it'd sure as hell make me feel a lot less worried about leaving."

The act didn't work every time. Sometimes he got lectures about laws and rules and time frames. Other times, the place just didn't keep the drug in stock. But often enough, he had success. And after five long days of searching, he'd finally amassed enough suppressants to last him for the next four years.

Thank God drugs didn't go bad like food. At least he had that small mercy.

Of course, getting the pills was only half the battle. The other half was keeping them hidden. Fortunately, he'd already worked out that problem months ago. Out of all the belongings he could bring with him, there was only one item he knew no one would ever question, and that was his Bible.

The copy he had was old and worn. It'd been his grandfather's before it was his, and many of the pages still bore the old man's marks. A passage underlined here. A hastily scribbled note there. The book was the only thing he had left of a man he could barely remember. But as sacred and sentimental as he knew the text should be, that still hadn't stopped him from cutting a slit down the spine and sewing a long piece of leather into the inner backing of the cover.

It had taken a lot of trial and error to get it just right. He'd worked on the secret pocket for weeks before he'd finally trusted it to pass inspection. But when he was done, he'd been left with a book that looked just like a normal Bible to anyone who didn't know better but could also hold several dozen pills neatly trapped beneath its spine.

You know Ma would say you're going to hell for this, Bucky thought as he slipped the last of his pills inside the cover. Of course, she's never had to worry about going into heat in the middle of an active war zone, so what does she know anyway?

He just counted himself lucky that all the pills fit. He only needed to take one a month, so that was just under forty tablets he had to hide away. Part of him hated keeping them all in the same place—talk about putting all his eggs in one basket—but try as he might, he couldn't come up with a better spot to store them.

After all, the army might take his shirt, his shoes, and even his soul, but as far as he knew, even they wouldn't stoop to taking his Bible. So at least there was that.

Once all of that was done, there wasn't a whole lot left to do. He gave his notice to his boss at the docks. He went home and broke the news to his family over dinner. He called up Dottie for one last date and got a send-off so strong he almost wished the Army could draft him more than once.

By the time Saturday rolled around, he only had one loose end left to tie up, and that's the one he'd been dreading the most.

Steve.

How the hell was he going to break this to Steve?

The two of them were still living together, but by some stroke of luck, the Alpha hadn't seemed to put together what was going on just yet. Of course, they'd hardly seen each other for more than a few minutes over the last week. Steve had finally landed a steady job at an ad agency just a little over a year ago. It kept him out of the apartment from 9 to 5 on most weekdays. So between that and all the extra shifts Bucky usually picked up at the docks, it wasn't uncommon for the two of their schedules to be out of sync for days on end.

"I still don't see why you're pushing yourself so hard, Buck," Steve had complained to him months ago. "Between the two of us, we've got plenty of money now. There's no sense in working yourself to death, not when you can finally afford to take it easy."

But that was just it. Bucky couldn't afford to take it easy.

Not then and not ever.

He'd already spent most of his savings on all the suppressants he'd horded. Without those extra shifts, he'd have never been able to afford them. And then there were all the other expenses he'd still need to cover as well.

Steve's paycheck alone might be enough to swing food and rent, but what about this winter when he got sick? Because Bucky knew there was no way Steve Rogers wouldn't get sick. He'd get the flu at least—maybe even pneumonia. And though Bucky had already made his sister promise to check in on the punk while he was gone, he wasn't about to ask Becca to cover Steve's medical bills. That was on him, and he just prayed he had enough left in the bank to cover whatever costs may come.

After all, he'd promised the man's ma he'd look after him. And if there was one thing James Buchanan Barnes never did, that was break a promise.

Not if he could help it anyway.

So Bucky woke up early that morning. He got dressed. He straightened up the couch he'd slept on, and he made breakfast. By the time Steve got out of bed, a fresh plate of pancakes and bacon was already waiting on him.

"What the hell, Buck?" Steve cocked his head to the side. "I thought you'd be asleep till noon at least."

"And miss the parade?" Bucky snorted. "Come on, punk, it's the Fourth of July. Besides, I'm not about to make you cook breakfast on your own birthday. So hurry up and eat. We're gonna have to hoof it if we wanna make it to Fifth Avenue on time."

Steve didn't have much to say then. He gobbled down his breakfast faster than Bucky had ever seen him eat, and they were out the door in less than fifteen minutes after that. By the time they made it to Manhattan, they'd just snagged a spot in front of Tiffany's when the front of the parade came marching down the street.

"God, Buck, would you look at that." Steve smiled fondly. "Now those are real Americans."

And Bucky couldn't help but nod along. "Yeah, I guess they are."

All down the street, row after row of servicemen paraded before them. Every branch of the military was represented. The Army and the Navy. The Marines and the Coast Guard. Even a legion of nurses decked out in their own white uniforms and heels waved at the crowd as they walked by.

And preceding each group was a single banner held up by the two front marchers, each sign starting off with the same five words.

OUR BRAVE ALPHAS AND BETAS.

Over and over Bucky watched them march by.

Our Brave Alphas and Betas of the 27th Infantry Division. Our Brave Alphas and Betas of the US Marine Corps. Our Brave Alphas and Betas of the Army National Guard.

Every time it was the same. Alphas and Betas. Alphas and Betas. Not a single mention of an Omega anywhere in sight.

And why would there be? He smiled grimly. Omegas aren't expected to serve their country. Just their mates.

Bucky let his attention drift from the parade to the crowd. The suppressants might keep him from having any scent of his own, but that didn't mean he couldn't smell the scents of others. He'd always had a sharp nose. Even before he presented, he could read an Alpha's emotions just as clearly from their scent as he could from their face. It was yet another reason his father had been so sure he'd be an Alpha. Beta noses just weren't that keen.

So he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The overwhelming surge of Alpha pheromones engulfed him, but he'd had more than enough practice over the years to ignore their pull. Hell, just living with Steve had been a crash course in that. His friend's body might not be that big, but his scent was enormous, its smell subtle yet at the same time strong and permeating.

Like rusty metal and hot bricks, he'd always thought. Stevie's scent reminded him of smoldering afternoons spent on the fire escape, the two of them sitting outside together, still baking from the heat but at least not trapped inside the stuffy confines of their apartment. That smell filled their home. It had worked its way into all of Bucky's clothes. It followed the Omega wherever he went.

But as all-encompassing as Steve's scent might be, that's not what Bucky was searching for now. No, as he tipped his head back to take another deep breath, he ignored all the hard Alpha scents and searched for something much softer.

And that's when the faint whiff of lilac reached his nose.

Omega, he thought instantly. And almost on instinct, other feelings hit him as well.

Safe.

Similar.

Home.

For some reason, the scent of another Omega always made him feel like he was home. He'd never been able to explain it. Sarah had once told him that it was a common bond their kind all shared: that need for communion.

"No one will ever understand you like another Omega," she'd said one afternoon shortly after he'd presented. "Not your parents. Not a Beta. And certainly not an Alpha."

No, it took another Omega to know how an Omega truly felt. That's why they instinctively sought one another out. It was just their own damnable luck that their kind happened to be so rare. Less than five percent of the population, that's what Omegas were. It was no surprise Alphas fought so hard to claim one, and even less of a shock when they filled them up with pup after pup after pup.

After all, the Alpha line had to go on, and what surer way than through an Omega?

Bucky glanced through the crowd until he found the lone Omega in question. She was standing at the edge of the curb just across the street. Her Alpha's arm hung slung across her shoulders. His bite mark scarred the left side of her neck.

But it was her belly that drew Bucky's attention the most. The woman was round with her latest pup—probably close to being due if he had to guess. And if the boys clamoring around her skirt were anything to go by, this latest pregnancy wouldn't be her first. A kid that couldn't have been any younger than seven-years-old kicked and shoved his slightly smaller brother while a sleeping toddler clung to his mother's chest.

Three pups already and a fourth on the way.

Bucky could smell the fatigue in the woman's scent. Fondness lingered there, too. He'd never heard of an Omega who didn't love her pups. But beneath it all, he thought he caught the smallest whiff of something else. Sadness, maybe? Possibly even fear.

On the rare occasions he did run into another Omega, Bucky would swear he almost always smelled fear.

But it wasn't until he chanced a glance at her face that his eyes widened and his body froze. Because there, standing clutched in the arms of her much older Alpha, was little Katie Miller. She'd been Becca's best friend all through grade school. The freckle-faced girl with the pigtails. He used to walk the two of them to school every morning. He could still remember the way they would snicker and whisper behind his back, each one laughing behind closed hands when he'd turn around to call them on it.

Katie wasn't smiling now, though.

Back when she was a kid, he remembered how her eyes used to dance, her gaze always darting, ever curious. Today, though, she just looked tired and empty. One hand absently stroked her toddler's hair while she stared out at the parade with disinterest.

Thank God Becca wasn't here to see the girl now.

His sister had cried for weeks after Katie had presented as an Omega. One day the two of them had been inseparable, and then the next one of them was gone. It'd been so abrupt. Katie had just been cut out of all their lives almost as if she'd never even existed. Her desk had been cleaned out, her room emptied, and her whole life handed over to the Alpha who was still holding her even now.

Twenty-three, Bucky thought. She's only twenty-three-years-old.

Twenty-three and she already had three pups with a fourth on the way.

And she still has plenty more years left to breed.

Bucky's skin went cold.

He forced himself to look away before he did something he'd regret. Knocking out Katie's Alpha might make Bucky feel better, but in the end what good would it do? She'd still be his. An Omega was nothing short of an Alpha's property, and there was very little an Alpha could do to make the law strip him of his own possessions.

If Katie had been a Beta, a guy that old would have gone to prison for knocking her up so young. But since she was his Omega, he'd most likely just been praised for having such a fertile mate. Who cared if she was a teenager the first time he claimed her? She was still his. The mark on her neck was proof of that. So no matter how he used her, the law would always be on his side.

Damn, but the world could be fucked up sometimes.

Bucky turned his attention back to the parade just as a giant float proclaiming Freedom for All rolled across the street. A whole troop of Girl Scouts rode atop, each kid decked out just like Lady Liberty herself. Wide grins were plastered across all their faces, and their tiny arms pumped as they waved at the cheering crowds.

Beside him, Steve clapped along as well, but all Bucky could do was wonder how many of those girls would still be smiling in a few more years and how many would have the same dead-eyed gaze as the woman standing across the street.

"Great parade, huh, Buck?" Steve glanced up at him, and Bucky forced himself to smile.

"Yeah, pal, real great," he said, because he knew for most folks it was.

It was just for people like him and Katie that it felt more like a kick in the teeth.

Still, today was Steve's birthday, and Bucky wasn't about to do anything to ruin the punk's special day. So he stood at attention and watched. He looked every serviceman in the eye as they passed by. He smelled the collective pride permeating each Alpha's scent, but he also caught the taint of nervousness as well.

Most of those boys were fresh out of Basic. They'd be heading out to war any day now. Pretty soon they'd be putting their lives on the line, each one forced to obey his commander's orders just the same as poor Katie was a slave to her Alpha's voice.

Bucky guessed life in the service was as close as any Alpha or Beta would ever come to knowing what an Omega's life was like. And even though a small part of Bucky thought it served them all right, a larger part just regretted that anyone—Alpha or Omega—had to feel that kind of helplessness in the first place.

After all, not all Alphas were bad. Steve Rogers was living proof of that.

Bucky couldn't say how much time passed after that. More floats rolled by. More men marched past. But eventually the parade ended. The crowds thinned. And Bucky and Steve were left with near-empty stomachs and an entire afternoon left to fill.

A pair of hot dogs took care of the first problem. The second wasn't as easy to solve.

Manhattan was unusually quiet for a Saturday. Roosevelt might have asked the nation's factories to stay open on the Fourth, but that didn't mean the local businesses couldn't close for the holiday, so most of them had.

Still, the sidewalks were open, and the weather was nice, so the two of them took their time getting home. They just hit the streets, and they talked, and that was nice. Real nice.

"Don't think I can remember taking it this slow in ... ever, I guess." Bucky chuckled. "Feels kind of good for a change."

"Yeah." Steve let out a sigh. "Real good."

They walked in silence for several minutes after that, Bucky's eyes roving over every tree and building they passed while Steve's feet just scraped and kicked at the ground.

"Now what's your problem, punk?" Bucky said when he couldn't take it anymore. "Sidewalk giving you shit?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh come off it, Buck."

"Come off what?"

"The act," Steve said. "I know you're not that callous."

"Callous about what?" Bucky rubbed his forehead. "I literally have no idea what you're talking about right now."

"No idea? We just saw hundreds of servicemen parading down the street, and you're telling me that didn't bother you? I mean here we are, two able-bodied men just strolling down the street while other guys are out there losing their lives just so we can sit around and piddle our days away."

"Piddle? Seriously, Steve, you're gonna call what we're doing piddling? What are you, ninety-five-years-old?"

"Don't change the subject, Buck."

"Then don't talk like my grandma, Steve. It's embarrassing."

"Bucky ..."

"What?" Bucky threw his hands up in the air. "What, Steve? You honestly think it's gonna do anybody any good to just go moping around making yourself miserable? Christ's sake, Stevie, it's your birthday. You can afford to be happy on your birthday."

"And what about all those guys on the front line? How many of them do you think are having happy birthdays right now?'

Bucky rolled his eyes. "That's a stupid question, and you know it."

"Is it?" Steve asked. "Lemme find one guy who's actively serving, and let's ask him."

"Steve ..."

"I'm serious, Buck. Just one guy who's been over there. Hell, even one who's about to go. Just one. Let's ask him what he thinks about all of this. See what he has to say."

"I can tell you right now what he'd say," Bucky said. "He'd tell you you're crazy."

"You ain't been out there fighting, Buck."

"Don't see how that's gonna change anything."

"And I don't see how it can't." Steve shook his head. "This is war we're talking about, Bucky. You have no idea what it's like."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty damn sure I'll have a better idea in a few more months, so just wait around and ask me then. I can guarantee you'll get the same fucking answer."

And just like that, it was out.

Bucky cringed as soon as the words left him, but Steve just stopped. He blinked.

"What do you mean 'a few more months'?" the Alpha asked.

And all Bucky could do was rub the back of his neck.

"Look, Stevie," he said slowly. "I didn't wanna have to break it to you on your birthday, but I—"

"You enlisted."

Bucky blinked. "Umm—"

"It's okay," Steve cut in. "I mean, I get it. I know we kept saying we were gonna go together, but what with the way I keep getting rejected ..."

Steve took a moment to look away. When he looked back, his eyes were just as hard as they'd been the day Bucky'd had to tell him his his mother had died.

"You did the right thing, Buck. I really appreciate you waiting around for me as long as you did, but I know you couldn't wait forever. So when are you heading out?"

Bucky's mouth was so dry, he couldn't speak. Hell, he could hardly even think.

Half of him wanted to set the record straight. He wasn't some damn hero. He was just another grunt who got drafted. But there was just something about the way Steve looked at him now that made him hesitate.

Without warning, Bucky's thoughts turned back to Katie Miller.

How long had it been since someone had looked at her with the same level of respect Steve was showing him now? Hell, how long had it been since someone had even bothered to look at her period?

Bucky might have stolen a couple of glances earlier, but few others dared to acknowledge another Alpha's Omega. To stare at one was impolite. To look one in the eye was nothing short of taboo. So Bucky could only imagine what a moment like this would mean to a girl like Katie Miller.

He damn well knew what it meant to him, and he sure as hell knew he wasn't about to give it up.

So he swallowed the truth. He cleared his throat. And he told his best friend only what he needed to know.

"Two days. I'm shipping out to Basic on Monday."

Steve's mouth fell open. "And you waited until now to tell me? What the hell, Buck?"

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I was trying to be a stand-up guy here. Didn't think you'd want your birthday getting overshadowed by all this shit."

"Because being kept in the dark is so much better." Steve shook his head. "Damn it, you jerk, how many other things have you been keeping from me that I don't know about?"

More than you'd ever believe, Bucky wanted to say. But of course, he didn't.

Instead, he just told Steve what he needed to know. Like how he'd added the Alpha to their lease, paid the next three months of rent, and made sure Steve's name was added to Bucky's own bank account just so he could access any funds he needed in case of an emergency.

"I'll sign up to have most of my pay sent home, so finding cash shouldn't be a problem," Bucky told him.

But that just made Steve's scent stink with rage.

"I'm not completely useless, Buck. I've got a job of my own. I don't need your money."

"I'm not saying you do," Bucky said. "And I'm not giving you any of it either. That money's still mine, punk, so don't go getting any ideas. It'd just make me feel better knowing you have access to it, that's all. I mean, I obviously won't be here, and if some emergency pops up—either with you or my folks or with Becca—I just wanna know somebody's here who can take care of it. And you know there's nobody else I trust as much as I trust you."

Steve snorted, but Bucky could already smell the anger leaving his scent. "You mean there's nobody left for you to trust as much as you trust me."

"Hey, you said it, pal, not me."

Steve shook his head, and they walked in silence for several minutes after that.

Up ahead, a bus pulled into its stop. A pair of women got off. Several kids rushed past. And life went on.

For some people, at least.

"You do know you're coming back." Steve finally broke the silence.

"Course I do," Bucky told him. "Everybody gets a few days leave before they ship out."

"I mean after you get there," Steve said. "Just cause you're going to war doesn't mean ... You know it doesn't mean anything, right?"

Bucky forced a smile.

"And pretty soon I'll be over there, too," Steve told him. "The Army can't keep me out forever, so don't go thinking I'm just gonna be your errand boy while you're gone."

"Wouldn't dream of it, punk."

And that was it.

Everything went back to normal after that—or at least as normal as anything could be.

Bucky tried to salvage the rest of Steve's birthday while Steve made promises of the huge send-off they'd have before Bucky finally did ship out. That evening Becca brought over a cake. Steve complained about Bucky blowing through all his sugar rations to make it, but Bucky just shrugged it off.

"Not exactly gonna need them where I'm going," he'd told him, and Steve didn't have anything to say after that. Even Becca had been unusually silent.

The three shared a cordial—if somewhat somber—dinner. A miracle sometimes when Becca was involved. And after Bucky escorted his sister home, he and Steve ventured out onto the fire escape to stare at the sky. There weren't any fireworks to watch this year, but somehow the darkness seemed even more fitting.

"I mean it, Buck. When you come back, we're doing whatever you want. Movies. Dancing. You name it. We'll have one helluva night before you ship out. The same goes for when you come back—hell, when we both come back—for real. Because I meant what I said. I'll be over there, too, Buck. No way am I just gonna sit back while other guys put their lives on the line. I've got no right to offer any less than everybody else."

And Bucky smiled at that.

What else could he do?

He was going to miss little Stevie with his big plans and even bigger promises. He was going to miss their crummy apartment with the bad heating and even worse hot water. Hell, he was even going to miss his sister's nagging.

He was going to miss everything, really. His whole life right here, right now. He was going to miss it all. Because as much as Stevie might like to say Bucky was coming back, something deep down told Bucky he wasn't. Or if he did, whatever he came back to wouldn't be the same.

And maybe neither would he.

I wonder if little Katie ever had the chance to appreciate her old life before it was gone, he thought as he stared up at the dimming stars, but he didn't have an answer.

A cloud was passing overhead. Pretty soon all he'd be able to see would be black. But he'd enjoy what he had while he could. The night was still warm. The scent of hot bricks and old metal surrounded him. And whether the smell came more from their building or more from Steve, it didn't matter. It smelled like home.

"This is good," Bucky found himself saying. "Tonight. Us. This apartment and this city. It's all good. Real good."

Beside him, Steve's scent shifted with some emotion Bucky couldn't quite place, but that was okay. It was all okay. For now at least, everything was all okay. And as for the future ...

Bucky closed his eyes. He ran a hand over the smooth flesh covering his neck, and he tried not to think about the puckered scar marring Katie Miller's throat.

The future would come just like it always had. But at least for now, he was free. He could still say he belonged only to himself, and that was something.

Hell, who was he kidding?

That was everything.

Beside him, Steve shifted. A bony shoulder nudged him in the ribs, and Bucky looked up.

"Everything okay, Buck?"

"Sure, pal." Bucky smiled. "Why wouldn't it be?"

The Alpha narrowed his eyes, but he didn't press the matter. That was a small miracle in itself. And who could say? Maybe there'd be more miracles as well. Maybe Bucky would make it back from this war. Maybe he could keep his designation a secret. Maybe he'd even get to be his own man from now until the day he died.

Or maybe he'd just get a bullet between the eyes, and that'd be that.

"I've been thinking I might go to mass tomorrow," Bucky found himself saying. "Ma's been on me to start going again. Figure I kind of owe it to her to show up one last time before I ship out."

Steve nodded along. He said he'd go, too, and that was good. It was all good. Everything about his life was so, so good.

Funny how Bucky had never realized that until now.

"Think I'm heading in," Steve eventually said, but Bucky didn't follow. He just stayed where he was, his eyes locked on the darkness and his back pressed against the wall.

Whatever comes will come, he tried telling himself. You can't stop the future. All you can do is live through it.

And that's exactly what he'd do. For as long as he could, at least. He'd live and he'd appreciate and he'd savor every last moment he had left. And when the end came, he'd face that, too. Whatever its form. Whether it be a bullet or a grenade or even teeth.

Chapter Text

June 1943

"Don't win the war till I get there."

That had been the last thing Steve had said to Bucky before the Beta shipped out.

At the time, the words had been more of a wish than a promise. Till I get there. As if a 4F like him ever had a chance of enlisting. He'd already tried his luck four times before. That night at the Stark Expo had been nothing short of a Hail Mary, but it'd paid off. Erskine had given him his chance. He'd gotten his stamp of approval. And now here he was at Camp LeHigh—in Jersey of all places—with one week to prove himself and one pissed off colonel to win over.

Of course, if the looks Phillips kept giving him were anything to go by, he'd have more luck lifting a motorcycle over his head than he would swaying that man's opinion. But no one could say Steve Rogers had ever backed down from a fight, and the way he saw it, this was no different. He was in it till the end. He'd keep stepping up to the line over and over again, no matter the odds, just as long as it meant he got the chance to serve just the same as anybody else.

After all, nobody had kicked him out yet, and until they did, he wasn't about to do it for them.

He'd already been through drill after drill after drill. He'd run. He'd climbed. He'd crawled. Hell, he even jumped on a grenade once. Not a live one, but still, he hadn't known that at the time.

He'd been through so much, and yet he still had no idea where he stood. To be honest, he didn't even fully understand what he'd stepped up for. To become a super soldier? Him? Steve Rogers?

That idea alone was enough to make half the camp laugh. More than half, really. But as much as everybody else snickered whenever they saw him, there was still one man who didn't. And from the way everyone involved kept deferring to the German doctor, Steve had to wonder if it wasn't Colonel Phillips' approval he needed so much as it was Dr. Erskine's instead.

Good thing the old man was a Beta. Steve had never had much luck getting along with other Alphas. Too many saw him as a weakling not worthy of his designation. The rest of the men on his squad were proof of that. But Betas were different. They usually accepted him for who he was. Some even gave him a chance. Like his old boss at the ad agency. And Mr. Campbell back in art school. And Bucky.

God, Steve missed Bucky.

More and more often, he found himself wondering what the other man was doing, if he was okay, and whether he'd seen any fighting yet or not. For Bucky's sake, he hoped not.

Steve knew he was being hypocritical. Here he was, trying his damnedest to get into the thick of a fight everyone else said he had no right to enter, and all the while he just kept praying that Bucky hadn't seen any combat yet. He couldn't explain why. He knew the Beta could take care of himself. Hell, the man had finished more of Steve's fights than the Alpha could ever hope to count. But still, the older they got, the more Steve's Alpha instincts kept urging him on.

Protect, they practically screamed whenever his thoughts turned to the other man. Guard. Keep safe.

Like Bucky would ever need or want someone to keep him safe.

If there was one thing Steve knew about his friend, it was that the man was independent. Sure Bucky might take care of Steve. He might look out for his sister and even keep an eye on his parents, too. But when it came time for Bucky to need help, he'd always hole up. He'd tend his wounds in private and refuse to let anyone see him bleed. That's just the way he was.

Steve only knew of one person that Bucky had ever let in, and that had been Steve's ma. The Alpha had never been able to explain why. Maybe it went back to all those times the two of them had held vigil over Steve's sickbed. Those had been rough days—as much for Bucky and his ma as for him. And Steve guessed that was it right there. Trying times brought people together. And sitting at the edge of a friend's deathbed was definitely trying.

Of course, so was war.

Briefly, Steve wondered just how many new bonds Bucky must have formed with the men in his unit. They wouldn't be true bonds. Not like those between an Alpha and his Omega. Those bonds were deep and lasting and unbreakable. A Beta like Bucky would never get the chance to experience anything like that.

But still, there was always the camaraderie shared between fellow soldiers. Months of living together, training together, and maybe even fighting and killing together tended to bind men to one another. Steve couldn't say he had any experience with that yet—most of the men at Camp LeHigh hated him—but Bucky was different. Bucky made friends wherever he went. And basic training had been no different.

Steve had already heard plenty about the other guys in the 107th. Fresh names had popped up in all the letters the Beta had sent him over the past year. But one name kept appearing over and over again. Timothy Dugan. Or Dum Dum, as Bucky liked to call him.

Most of the Beta's stories involved some kind of idiocy the corporal had gotten himself involved in. This Dum Dum guy obviously lived up to his name. But beneath all the jokes and teasing, Steve could sense a sort of fondness underscoring Bucky's words.

Were the two of them friends? Close friends? Closer than even Steve and Bucky?

Or perhaps were they even more?

Steve tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that settled in every time he thought about the Beta spending time with someone other than himself. Steve didn't own the other man. Bucky wasn't his to claim. It was just Steve's own fucked up instincts that were the problem here. And if his hind brain wasn't so damaged, maybe then he could think straight.

But damaged or not, he couldn't afford to let those thoughts take up any more of his time, because this was it: his last day of training. Today a candidate would be chosen, and it all came down to this one, final test.

Steve just wished he knew what it was.

Up above, the sun bore down on him. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades. The entire squad had been standing at attention for over an hour now. No one moved. No one spoke. Over half the men were showing signs of approaching their next rut—Steve included—but still they held position. They'd all come too far to let nature disqualify them now. So as a unit, they did their best to ignore their own biology and just waited for whatever was coming next.

Fifteen more minutes passed before anything came along.

Steve hadn't noticed just how quiet the camp's grounds had become until Colonel Phillips eventually rode up in his jeep. The old man paused only a moment to look over the men in front of him before he started in on another one of his usual speeches. He let them all know that as much as each of them thought they'd proven themselves, strength, speed, and agility alone weren't the only qualities the colonel was looking for in his super soldiers.

"Not even bravery is enough to cut it." This time Phillips let his gaze fall on Steve. "The man I'm looking to pick today will have to possess all of those qualities—sure—but there's one more that's just as important as all the rest: willpower."

Behind the colonel, an armored van came to a stop. Another truck bearing half a dozen armed soldiers pulled up beside it. Its driver gave the order, and the men all marched out to take up positions around the van.

"You boys are all familiar with Agent Carter," Phillips began. "She's been kicking your asses for nearly a week now—some more than others." The colonel glanced at Private Hodge. "But today she's about to put you through your last and, for some of you, hardest test yet."

In the background, the van's driver stepped out and approached the back doors. Around him, the rest of the soldiers cocked their weapons.

"I'm sure you all remember that old story about Odysseus and the sirens," Phillips went on. "Man made his crew tie him down just so he could listen to them girls sing and not make an ass of himself when he sailed by. Well, here in the U.S. Army, we ain't gonna waste our time stringing any of you boys up. It's up to each of you to prove to me that you've got the self-control necessary to do that uniform proud. So the rules today are simple. For the next hour, I expect every one of you to stay right where you are. Step even one foot out of line, and you're out of here. Do more than that—" He nodded to the men behind him. "And I've authorized them boys over there to shoot you where you stand. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," Steve shouted along with the rest of his squad.

"Alright then." Phillips stepped back into his vehicle. "Agent Carter, they're all yours."

As the colonel stepped away, Steve watched the driver unlock the van's back doors, and he braced himself. Whatever the female agent had cooked up for them this time was obviously meant to break the majority of their flock. Why else bother with such a large security detail? But no matter how hard the Alpha tried to figure out what was coming next, Steve never could have imagined what was waiting for him behind those doors. Because before he could catch sight of what was inside, he caught the smell.

Steve's heart beat faster.

Oh, God, the smell.

Around him, men groaned. Some growled. Steve could hear his fellow squad mates sniffing at the air, and the Alpha found himself doing the same. He couldn't help it. The scent was just so sweet, so enticing. Steve closed his eyes, and he was practically drowning in it.

Honeysuckle and cinnamon.

That's what it was. Honeysuckle and cinnamon and something else. Something sharper. Something sweeter. Something stronger.

The scent was so strong, it begged Steve to follow it, to find it, to claim it. And that's when the Alpha realized what it was.

"Omega," he whispered.

But not just any Omega.

An Omega in heat.

What the hell?

Steve couldn't believe the Army would have allowed any civilian to put themselves in this much jeopardy—especially an Omega civilian—but there was no denying it now. Whoever was in that van was an Omega alright. Phillips had at least had enough foresight to post a contingent of Beta guards around the poor creature. But still, just the idea that a heat-sick Omega was positioned less than thirty feet away from a whole group of young, unbonded Alphas was enough to make Steve's stomach turn.

Who the hell could have ever thought this was a good idea?

Steve could barely hold back his own disgust when the doors fully opened and out stepped the Omega in question.

"Good day, gentlemen." Agent Carter's pitch was higher than normal, her voice slightly breathless. "I hope you're all ready for your final exam."

And so began one of the longest hours of Steve's life.

*****

Peggy Carter calmly unfastened the top two buttons of her dress uniform as she waited for the men in front of her to break their silence.

She didn’t have to wait long

“What the fuck!” Gilmore Hodge was the first to speak up. “You’re an Omega?”

“Obviously.” Peggy thanked the Beta who positioned a chair behind her before sinking down into its seat. “I’m glad to see your powers of deduction are so keen, Private Hodge.”

The man’s brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle out the insult, but eventually he just shook his head and said, “But you ain’t ever had no scent before.”

“None that you’ve been privy to, Private,” she told him. “But I can assure you, ever since I first presented, I have indeed had a scent.”

Confusion passed over the faces in front of her, and Peggy sighed. The men wouldn’t leave her be—not until she gave them at least some form of explanation—but she could barely concentrate enough to shrug out of her uniform jacket, much less answer all their questions.

Fortunately enough, Colonel Phillips decided at that point to step in.

“Before any of you knotheads decide to let your hindbrains make you look any dumber than you already are, Agent Carter here is part of a special pilot program to see what—if any—value Omega operatives might be able to contribute to the war effort.”

“You mean you’re gonna be sending Omegas to war?” someone asked, and the bitter smell of shock and outrage that tainted the men’s scents was enough to wrinkle Peggy’s nose.

Alphas. Good grief.

Sometimes Peggy forgot just how condescending the whole lot of them could be. As if they were so much better. Only yesterday, these same men had followed her orders without question. Now, she doubted she could command even a tenth of the respect they’d shown her over the past week. And why? Because she suddenly smelled different?

Peggy tipped back her head and sighed.

As horrible as the war was, it was at times like these she found herself grateful for its presence.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, she thought with a grin.

And thank heavens Britain had been so very desperate. Even before war had been declared, plans had been set in motion. Policies were changed. Omegas had been granted more freedoms. Before 1937, her kind would have been forced to mate during their first heat—just like Omegas still were here in America. But Peggy had been lucky. Just six months before her presentation, Parliament had passed a ruling that no Omega could be forced into a bond without their explicit consent.

That news had been like a gift from God.

With the law on her side, Peggy had not only turned down every potential suitor her parents had brought forward, but by some miracle, had survived that first heat with her mind and body still intact. So much for medical science claiming an Omega couldn’t live without an Alpha. She’d proved them wrong for over 5 years now. And thanks to the advent of scent blockers, she’d even been able to live a relatively normal life as well. All she’d had to do was register her status as an unbonded Omega with her local municipality, and she’d been supplied with all the cream she’d ever need to neutralize her scent for however long she liked. It had all seemed too good to be true.

Which, of course, meant it was.

Politicians never do anything without an ulterior motive, she reminded herself yet again. And neither do Alphas.

She’d only just graduated from St. Martin’s, when she’d been called in for “special testing” by her local Omega Board. An IQ exam followed. Then came the physical aptitude tests. Her parents were questioned, her background checked. Every aspect of her life—from her personality all the way to her moral code—was brought under investigation. And all of it was for her own supposed benefit.

“We have to make sure your unbonded status isn’t causing any undue hardship,” the doctors kept saying. “This is a novel program. We’re only looking out for your best interests.”

But of course, that hadn’t been the whole truth.

It wasn’t until after Parliament amended its decision—requiring that all unbonded Omegas find a mate by their twenty-first-birthday in order to “prevent irreparable mental and physical strain”—that a man had shown up at Peggy’s home and offered her a deal.

“You have two choices, my dear,” he’d told her that day. “You can either stay here and find a mate to serve, or you can come with me and commit your talents to serving your country.”

She’d packed her bags that very hour.

Looking back, Peggy wondered how she could have ever been so naïve. At first, she’d assumed her stranger’s deal was meant for her and her alone. But all it took was a short train ride to clear away that misconception. As soon as she’d moved into her dorm room, she’d met others—dozens of others—all Omegas and all unbonded.

Just like her.

“You didn’t really think all those IQ tests were for your own good, did you?” she remembered her old roommate mentioning as they unpacked their suitcases together. “What better way to screen candidates than to make them think they’re not being screened in the first place?”

Laura had always been a clever girl, and Peggy was smart enough to see the truth in her roommate’s theory. How could she not? Peggy couldn’t say she enjoyed being a pawn, but she could at least appreciate her government’s planning. Thanks to one simple move in Parliament, hundreds of newly-presented Omegas had been tempted by the same freedom that had ensnared herself. They’d gladly conceded to not only being registered, but tested at their government’s whim. And out of those select few deemed worthy enough to be allowed to proceed, each one had been given the same two options.

Mate or country.

As if there was really any choice at all.

“You are to be both the shield and the sword our enemies will never expect,” the director of the SOE had informed them during their orientation. “While the rest of the world sees your designation as a weakness, we see it as an opportunity. Let the enemy underestimate you. Let them think you harmless. By the time you leave here, you’ll have all the tools you need to be among the best field operatives our nation has ever produced. And none of the Fuhrer’s Alphas will ever see you coming.”

Not just the Fuhrer’s Alphas, Peggy thought to herself. All Alphas.

The country of origin didn’t matter. The men lined up in front of her were proof of that.

Sniffing the air, Peggy could still smell the disgust souring the grounds. Her instructors had been right. Most Alphas were so blinded by their instincts, they couldn’t begin to comprehend that an Omega—any Omega—could ever pose a threat. After all, Peggy’s kind was only meant to be claimed, protected, and bred. And anything so weak as to require protection could never be seen as anything other than harmless.

Well, perhaps it was about time Peggy showed them just how “harmless” she could be.

Standing up, the Omega rolled her shoulders. She arched her neck. Through hooded eyes, she watched the men’s attention shift away from the colonel, and she smiled as it turned back to her.

“So boys,” she said as she took a step forward. “Now that you’ve discovered my true designation, you don’t think I can handle myself. Is that it?”

A light murmur rose up from the group, but no one spoke out. Not yet.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘Oh, that poor Omega. Such a crime to let her out at time like this. The pathetic little thing can’t possibly be expected to control herself. Not around so many strong, handsome Alphas.’”

Peggy kept walking forward until she was only inches away from the line of men. With her left hand, she skimmed her fingers across the shoulders of the nearest private, and several deep growls rumbled through the ranks.

“But as fragile as you may think I am, I still contend that it’s your control that will break first. Not mine. So how about it, gentlemen? What say we put my theory to the test, shall we?”

And with that being said, Peggy got to work.

Gladly.

Over the course of the next hour she used every trick the SOE had taught her to toy with the Alphas on the field. She played up her arousal. She pretended to give in to her need. She blasted her scent so strongly at one point, that four soldiers broke all at once. Only the intervention of Phillips’ guards had saved her from a bite on the neck. Their shots had been quick, the tranquilizers strong. But even with four unconscious privates lying at their feet, more men still tried to claim her. Their natures demanded it.

Well, all but one man’s nature.

With less than ten minutes remaining in their final exam, only one candidate still managed to hold his ground. Steve Rogers. The wiry, little asthmatic from Brooklyn.

She’d read his file. She’d heard the good doctor espouse his praise. And she’d even found herself impressed by his cleverness and bravery on more than one occasion. But he was still an Alpha. He might be small and sickly, but deep down he was just the same as the rest of his kind.

A predator.

All Alphas were predators, and every last one of them saw Omegas as their prey. Nothing would ever convince Peggy otherwise. That’s why her kind had to be so careful. It’s why Omegas were forced to take mates and kept locked away inside their own homes. It’s why she’d spent the last five years wearing scent blockers and passing herself off as a Beta. Not because Omegas couldn’t be trusted around Alphas, but because Alphas couldn’t be trusted around Omegas. None of them could.

And yet, this one man—this Steven Grant Rogers—thought he could upend her entire world view just because he hadn’t tried to sink his teeth into her throat yet? Peggy didn’t know if she should be more insulted or angry.

Alright, she thought to herself, so you think you’re tough? Well, let’s see who’s still standing after this, hmm?  

Peggy swayed as she stepped up to the blonde Alpha. Her heat still hadn’t fully set in just yet, but she was close. So close. Already, her thoughts were growing fuzzy. Logic was starting to erode.

One of the first things the SOE had taught her was how to read her body. Her physiology could be both her greatest strength as well her greatest weakness. It all came down to control. And right now, she could feel that control slipping. Baser urges were rising to the surface, but she wasn’t drowning in them yet. She still had time to complete this exercise. Plenty of time. All she had to do was … was …

“Ma’am?” The young Alpha’s voice pulled her back to her senses. “Are you sure you shouldn’t sit down?”

“Now why would I ever do that?” She breathed. “Is my presence disturbing you, soldier?”

Rogers’ throat bobbed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“No?” She moved in closer. “You don’t find my presence here … unnatural?”

“Of course not.”

“But I’m an Omega.” She lifted a hand to play with the buttons on the front of his uniform. “Aren’t Alphas like you supposed to want to protect me?”

“I do want to protect you,” he said. “I … I want to protect anyone who needs it.”

“And you think I need it?” Peggy arched a single eyebrow. “Protection, that is.”

The Alpha licked his lips. His breaths had sped up, but so far he hadn’t stepped out of line.

Not yet.

“I …”

“Oh, come now, Steven.” Peggy dropped her forehead against his shoulder. “I’m being honest with you. Why can’t you be honest with me?”

Rogers frowned. “I thought I was.”

“Then why won’t you answer my question?” she pressed. “Why do you think I need protecting?”

“Because you’re vulnerable.” He swallowed hard. “You’re in heat. Omegas … Omegas can’t control themselves when they’re in heat.”

“And do I look like I’ve lost control?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Not completely. But you’re close. I can smell it.”

“And I can smell you, too.” Peggy giggled. Had she meant to giggle? “You smell just like an Alpha should. All hard and strong. Tell me, Steven, do you want to be my Alpha?”

Rogers’ eyes widened. “I …”

“It wouldn’t be hard.” She bared her neck mere inches from his lips. “You’re so close, those men can’t stop you. All it’d take is one quick bite, and you could claim me right now. You could make me yours. Don’t you want to make me yours?”

“What? No. No! Never.”

“No?” Peggy rocked back as much from shock as from hurt.

Hurt?

Why should she feel hurt?

She shook her head to clear it, but her mouth ran on before she could tell it what to say.

“Don’t you want me, Steven?”

She cringed at how out meek and simpering her words sounded, but she couldn’t help it. Her control was slipping away. Her thoughts were growing clouded. She’d overestimated how much power she had over her own biology, and now she was about to pay for it. She’d gotten too close to this Alpha. She’d tempted him too much. He was the predator, and she was the prey. And pretty soon she’d be caught. She’d be his. She’d be—

Pushed away by a pair of hands that were shaking just as much as her own.

“I do want you, Agent Carter,” Rogers said. “Deep down, an Alpha always wants an Omega. But I don’t think you want me.”

“You could make me want you.” Her lips moved before she could stop them. “They say … they say once bonded, an Omega can’t help but succumb to her Alpha. Nature demands it.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t nature. And I’m not about to lock somebody into something they don’t want. No matter how much their body keeps telling them otherwise.”

Peggy didn’t know if it was the man’s words or just the added distance, but in that instant, she was able to grasp a moment’s worth of clarity at least. She took a deep breath. She stepped back. She caught sight of the Betas still standing behind her, all of their rifles trained on the Alpha in their midst. Farther back, Phillips stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his face still caught in a frown even as Erskine smiled beside him.

Wait. When had the doctor arrived again? Peggy hadn’t noticed him at all while she was working. Had she really been so distracted that she’d lost all sense of her environment? Dear Lord, she thought she’d trained herself better than that. She thought her time with the SOE had made her strong, tough. But if she ever let herself be this vulnerable in the field …

“Whoa.”

A hand grabbed Peggy by the elbow just as her knees buckled beneath her. In the background, she heard boots pound across the ground. A sharp voice echoed over the field. Phillips? That was Phillips, wasn’t it? The old Alpha was shouting out something she really should be paying attention to, but all she could focus on was the scent surrounding her.

Hot metal and bricks.

So strong. So deep. So … Alpha.

Heaven help me.

She could already feel the fresh slick sliding down her thighs. She didn’t have long. She’d already pushed herself too far. Every last fiber of her being was demanding she give in, submit, bare her throat to the Alpha still holding her up and beg him to take her. But before she could completely humiliate herself, Phillips’ voice cut through her confusion.

“Congratulations, Rogers. Looks like you won after all.”

Everything else faded after that.

Vaguely, Peggy was aware of fresh hands pulling her away. She thought she heard Phillps order someone to take her to medical, but she couldn’t be sure. The heat was fully upon her now. Everything was too bright, too fast, too loud.

Too hot.

Sweet Lord, was she ever hot.

Her skin boiled while her blood throbbed through her veins, and all she could do was give in to her baser instincts and ride it out. The next three days were nothing but a blur, but she survived them. Somehow she always survived them. As bad as an Omega’s heat could be, she’d always heard it was so much worse on the unbonded, and she didn’t doubt that was right. She supposed that was reason enough for many Omegas to give up their freedom, but she’d always believed she was made of sterner stuff.

How lovely to find out she wasn’t.

By the time she was finally cleared for duty again, Peggy was more than ready to put her one moment of weakness behind her. She’d been careless, stupid really. She’d let her pride get the best of her, and why? Because she felt the need to prove herself to an Alpha? Moments like that could get her killed in the field.

Or, even worse, claimed.

She was only lucky that Rogers had been just as idealistic as Erskine had claimed. If she’d tried those same moves on any of the other young Alphas on the field, she’d probably have a scar on her neck and a pup in her womb by now. But as grateful as she knew she should be, her petty side couldn’t help but wonder how she’d ever be able to face the blonde soldier again. Assuming Project Rebirth was a success, she’d be working with the man even more closely than before. And after the complete ass she’d made out of herself the last time they’d been near one another, she didn’t think she could bear picking up where they’d left off.

All it took was a single debrief, though, to put those fears to rest.

As Howard Stark filled her in on everything she’d missed, she learned that the good doctor’s serum had worked even better than anyone had ever dreamed it would. To transform such a small and sickly Alpha into the muscular marvel Howard described was nothing short of a miracle. She could only imagine how excited Phillips must have been. To be able to command an entire army of super soldiers … it was every CO’s dream come true. And then to have it all taken away by an assassin’s bullet not even five minutes later …

Once again, Peggy cursed her designation.

If only she had been there, maybe events would have been different. She could have spotted the spy. She could have saved the doctor. She’d already saved the man once when she smuggled him out of Germany. Certainly, she could have rescued him again.

But instead, she’d been locked in medical isolation while she tried to ride through her heat. It was all so terribly unfair. Her absence. Erskine’s death. Rogers’ dismissal.

Howard had told her all about that, too. According to the Beta, Rogers had all but begged Phillips to let him go after Schmidt and the rest of Hydra, but the colonel was too focused on recreating the serum to go for that. The old man would never be content with just one super soldier—no matter how impressive that one might be—so he’d sent the poor fool off to be a lab rat. Only Senator Brandt had saved the Alpha from a life of poking and prodding and constant blood draws.

But as much as Rogers still claimed he wanted to serve his country, the only soldiers he’d be leading now were the USO girls dancing behind him. Peggy could hardly believe it. One of the greatest scientific marvels of the modern age, and the American government had dressed him in a flag and told him to sell bonds. Talk about wasted potential!

All thoughts of shame left her as Peggy considered the fortitude it must take a man to perform like that day after day after day. All Rogers had ever wanted to be was a soldier, and now he was a showman. She could only imagine the blow to his pride. Yet, instead of heading home with his tail between his legs, he’d pushed on. He’d accepted the Senator’s deal, Howard claimed, out of the sheer hope that it would somehow lead him to the frontlines.

Peggy didn’t see that happening, but for the Alpha’s sake, she hoped it did. She knew a thing or two about being held back by circumstance and prejudice. And as much as she distrusted all other Alphas, she couldn’t help but be a little fond of this one.

Steve Rogers was different. Of that much she was certain. Whether he lived up to the idealism he espoused, only time would tell. But she hoped the young man who refused to mark her would live on. And even though her mind was more than preoccupied with her own work over the coming months, she found her thoughts drifting back to the blonde every now and again.

What was he doing? Where was he performing? Who was he with?

More than anything else, that last question plagued her the most.

It wasn’t because she was jealous. Far from it. Peggy Carter’s greatest aspiration was to live and die without a mark upon her neck. But Steve Rogers had been the first Alpha who had ever surprised her. He hadn’t claimed her. He hadn’t wanted to. Not without her consent. And consent was something she’d always believe was alien to his kind.

“Alphas take,” her instructors had been quick to tell her. “They’ll bend you and break you without a second thought. That’s why you must always be vigilant. Always strike first or else they will.”

But Steve Rogers hadn’t. And perhaps there were other Alphas who wouldn’t either.

It would certainly be pretty to think so.

Still, Peggy knew better than to take any Alpha at his word. Rogers could have just been playing the game. He could’ve wanted the serum more than he wanted her. Or he could have just preferred another type. The truth was, she’d never know. But if he took a mate …

Peggy’s mind wandered.

If she could only talk to whichever Omega Rogers would one day claim, then she’d have her answer. She’d know if he’d been telling the truth. And then, maybe, she’d amend her views. But until that day came, she couldn’t risk it. Better to be wary and sharp than accepting and weak. She’d certainly live a lot longer that way, and she’d probably be a lot more effective, too.

And that’s what she really needed to be right now. Effective. Smart. Disciplined. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let petty daydreaming interfere with her work. Not before and certainly not now. Not when Phillips had just summoned her to help with his dealings on the Italian front.

So she packed her bags. She’d be leaving London soon enough. She’d heard Captain America would soon be bringing his show to Europe, and who knows, perhaps she would catch a performance if she was lucky. Maybe then she could see what the wiry Alpha had turned himself into. And maybe, just maybe, she could see if he’d claimed himself a mate. Because if he had, she had every intention of meeting that Omega.

She just hoped the Captain’s partner wouldn’t be a disappointment.

Chapter Text

October 1943

Growing up, Bucky had heard his ma say over and over again how much she’d love to see Italy one day.

It was nothing but a pretty dream. Everyone in the family knew it. Extra money was a luxury the Barneses’ household rarely had. But still, no one had ever begrudged his mother the fantasy. Even his pa had promised that one day he’d see it come true. One day George Barnes would take his wife all the way to Rome. He’d sit by her side while they attended Mass at St. Peters, and he’d hold her hand while she got her rosary blessed by none other than the pope himself.

It was a pretty enough dream even if it’d never come true. And Bucky knew for a fact now that it wouldn’t.

Winnifred Barnes would never visit Italy. She’d never meet the pope. Hell, she’d never even go to mass again. All of her husband’s promises had turned out to be nothing but empty words. Not that Bucky was surprised. George Barnes had always been good at letting people down. But for his ma’s sake, Bucky hoped the man had at least been good enough to hold his wife’s hand while she died. Even if she couldn’t have Italy, at least she could have that.

Bucky took a shaky breath as he leaned back against the dirt wall behind him.

How the hell had it even come to this anyway?

Pneumonia, Becca had told him. His sister’s letter had shown up nearly a week ago, but no matter how many times he read the words, he still couldn’t believe them. Instead, he just kept thinking about Sarah Rogers. Images of the Omega’s last moments, of her gasping breaths and blue-tinged lips, filled his mind.

He didn’t want to think of his own mother going out like that. Sarah’s death had been bad enough. Too bad, honestly. But his ma? She was supposed to be safe and hardy back home. That’s the whole reason he and the rest of his unit had entered this God forsaken war. To protect the families they’d left behind. It’s what kept them all going. But now he’d lost one of the most important people in his life, and all he had was a few hastily scrawled words to prove it.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with that anyway? How the hell was he supposed to get any real answers? Andy why the fuck hadn’t Steve written to tell him about it, too?

Try as he might, Bucky couldn’t be mad at Becca. She was still grieving. She couldn’t be expected to give him all the details he’d want to know. But Steve? The guy was supposed to be his best friend. He’d promised to keep an eye on Bucky’s parents while he was gone. Hell, he’d even just promised to write. But other than a simple postcard from Jersey—and trust that punk to remember just how much he hated Jersey—Bucky hadn’t gotten so much as a lick of correspondence from the Alpha in months.

What. The. Fuck.

“Christ, Jimmy, give it a rest, will ya?” A voice said to his right. “You keep thinking that hard, you’re gonna give me a headache.”

“Don’t know why you’re complaining, Dum Dum,” Bucky shot back. “As empty as that skull of yours is, there ain’t nothing inside it left to cramp up. And for fuck’s sake, stop calling me Jimmy. How many times I gotta keep telling you that?”

Dugan’s mustache twitched, and for a second, Bucky thought he caught a smile, but he couldn’t be sure. It was too dark. It was too late. And he was too fucking tired.

Dear God, was he ever tired.

Bucky felt like he’d been sitting in this foxhole for years. He knew his ma had always had a thing for Italy, but so far, he hated the place. It might even be worse than Jersey. At least back there, he didn’t have to worry about where he was going to shit every night or whether or not he’d get his head shot off the next time he poked it above ground.

Fucking hell. That’s what this place was. Just mother fucking hell. The 107^th had seen nothing but shit ever since they’d started pushing their way up the boot, but this place was the worst of all.

Azzano.

What kind of a fucking name was Azzano anyway? Bucky even just hated the sound of it. Hell, he hated the thought of it. He hated everything about it. And he hated this whole damn war, too.

But most of all, he hated himself.

“I shoulda been there,” he muttered, but a mortar in the distance snuffed out his words.

More shells exploded. More rifles barked. The sounds of war surrounded them, but they weren’t close enough for the terror to sink in just yet.

“Could really use a cigarette right now,” he muttered to Dugan, and beside him, the corporal chuckled.

“Keep wishing, Sarge,” Dum Dum said. “Or better yet, start praying. As much time as you spend huddled up with His book, the Lord Almighty’s bound to start answering your prayers one of these days.”

“So that’s how it works, huh?” Bucky cut his eyes at the corporal. “Funny, I never took you for a clergyman, Dum Dum.”

“And why the hell not?” The corporal jutted out his chin. “You saying I ain’t fit to lead a parish?”

“Hell, Dugan, you aren’t fit to lead a Conga line.” Bucky snorted. “Why the fuck else you think I outrank you?”

The two smiled at that. Sometimes Bucky thought Dugan was the only reason he got promoted. For whatever reason, the big Alpha had never liked following orders. He’d bucked up against just about everyone he’d served under.

Everyone except for Barnes, that is.

Bucky still couldn’t explain it. The first day he’d met the guy, the two of them had butted heads just the same as everyone else. He was sure they’d come to blows sooner or later. And even though Barnes had finished enough of Steve’s fights to know how to handle himself, the big Irishman was in a whole other weight class all together.

The guy was strong, faster than he looked, and not nearly as dumb as everyone claimed. Bucky hadn’t looked forward to fighting him, but he was ready to. He’d figured it was just about inevitable. But then some scrawny little Beta who looked too young to drive—much less enlist—had gotten on the wrong side of a couple of Alphas in another company. The knotheads had been making the guy’s life a living hell until Bucky had stepped in. But once he did …

Bucky smiled.

Barnes never liked to say what all he’d done. The secret to getting away with any prank was never telling anybody you were the one responsible for it. But after getting locked in the latrine, losing all their clothes while they were in the shower, and discovering what the pair of them believed to be dog shit—even though not a single dog lived on base—stuffed inside each of their boots, somehow the idiots had put together that Bucky was to blame.

Oh well, better him than that runt they’d been picking on before.

If Junior Juniper had ever known all the shit—some of it literal—Bucky had done for him, he sure hadn’t said anything. But the kid had taken to trailing along behind him nonetheless. It was only by accident that the two knotheads had caught Bucky alone one night. Barnes had known then and there that he was in for it. Two on one was never good odds. But he’d be damned if he just rolled over and took it. If these assholes wanted his pound of flesh, they’d have to earn it.

Barnes had just squared up for the fight when, fortunately enough for him, another Alpha had chosen that moment to step out of the barracks.

“And what the hell is this?” Dugan had boomed.

The two Alphas had told Dum Dum to mind his own damn business. This wasn’t his fight. And maybe he would have, too, if either one of them would have asked nicely. But like everyone with a brain knew, Dum Dum Dugan didn’t like taking orders. And he’d be damned if he’d let himself get bossed around by any jerk who didn’t outrank him.

Turned out, two against one weren’t such great odds when the one they were up against was a giant of an Irishman with a blazing hot temper and a mean left hook.

Bucky still smiled just thinking about that day. He’d opened up a fresh pack of cigarettes to share with Dugan on the spot. And somehow the two had become inseparable ever since.

“Think we’ll be sleeping here tonight?” Dugan asked, and Bucky shrugged.

“With all that shelling going on?” The sergeant shook his head. “I don’t know about you, Dum Dum, but I don’t think I’ll be getting much rest.”

“Oh, come on, Jimmy.” Dum Dum elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re a soldier now. Gunfire and mortars aren’t nothing but sweet lullabies for men like us.”

“Men like who?” a voice asked, and Bucky let out a sigh.

On the other side of the foxhole, Juniper pulled his head up from his knees. The kid looked like hell. He’d always been scrawny—not quite as scrawny as Steve, though that wasn’t saying much—but at least back at Camp McCoy, he’d been healthy. He’d made it through an entire Wisconsin winter without so much as a cough. Italy, though, looked like it’d be the death of him.

“You feeling any better?” Bucky asked, and the kid just shrugged.

Dark circles hung under Juniper’s eyes. His cheeks looked hollow. And a constant pallor clung to his face.

The kid had no business in active combat, much less being stationed so close to the front line. But what could be done about it now? The 107^th had been fighting for days. They couldn’t just pull back because one of their privates had a cold. So Bucky and the rest of his men had done what they could. They’d picked up more and more of Juniper’s slack. They’d tried to make life as easy as they could for the kid—give him time to recover and get back on his feet—but instead of getting better, he just kept getting worse.

And now he was coughing.

Damn it, did Bucky ever hate coughing.

The sergeant’s thoughts kept turning back to Steve and Sarah and his ma. They’d all faced their share of lung issues, and two of them had died from them, too. But Steve was still alive. Or at least Bucky hoped he was. Becca might not like the punk, but surely his sister would have let him know if something happened to the guy. She wouldn’t leave Bucky that much in the dark. And if Steve could pull through no telling how many chest-rattling coughing fits, then so could Junior Juniper.

Bucky would make sure of it.

“Here.” Bucky thrust his extra pair of socks at the kid. “Put these on.”

“Sarge …” Juniper started even as his words dissolved into a fresh bout of hacking.

Beside him, Dum Dum cursed softly.

“Jimmy,” Dugan whispered, “you sure you wanna—”

“Look, the kid’s fucked up enough as it is. The last thing he needs is trench foot on top of it, too,” he said. “Now take off those boots, Private, and let me take a look at your feet. That’s an order.”

The kid didn’t give him any shit after that.

“See, now this is what I’m talking about,” Bucky said as he pulled off the kid’s boot and found a moist sock lying underneath. “How many times I gotta tell you to keep your feet dry? Christ, even my kid sister listens better than you do. Don’t know how you made it through basic if you can’t even follow simple orders like that. Oughta kick ya out right now for insubordination.”

Bucky changed out Juniper’s socks before wringing out the old pair and tucking them in the kid’s front pocket. Junior at least had enough energy left to tie up his own boots, but that effort alone left him winded.

“Thanks, Sarge.” The kid smiled as he wheezed. “Really appreciate it.”

And all Barnes could do was give him a tight-lipped nod.

Christ, this kid was going to be the death of him.

“Just get some rest.” Bucky softened his voice as much as he dared. “Dum Dum and me’ll keep an eye out.”

But Juniper just shook his head. “Tired of sleeping.” He coughed again. “Mind if I do some reading instead?”

Bucky’s lips bent into a tight smile.

“Sure, kid. Have at it.”

Then he reached into his breast pocket and handed Juniper his Bible. The kid flipped straight to Judges and started reading away.

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Dugan groused beside him. “Won’t let another soul touch the thing, but the kid gets to read it whenever he wants.”

“Don’t know what you’re complaining about, Dum Dum.” Buck arched an eyebrow. “You won’t find nothing in that book but words. I get a Bible with pictures in it … Well, I’ll be sure to give you first crack.”

“Only if it’s from Tijuana,” the big man said, and Bucky chuckled.

Their laughter was almost enough to cover up the sound of Juniper’s coughing.

Almost.

Around them, twilight was setting in. Pretty soon it’d be too dark to read, but the kid could get a few minutes in at least. Bucky busied himself with checking his rifle while Dugan tipped his bowler hat over his eyes and settled in for the evening.

In the distance, the shelling continued.

Bucky kept watch. Some of the other guys were bunkered down a few yards away, but he couldn’t hear them and he wasn’t about to pay a visit. Hopes were still high that they’d get a reprieve tonight. It’d be nice. Bucky wasn’t in the position to say anything, but even he could tell the troops were spread too thin. Their captain was overplaying his hand.

But then again, what else was new?

All the brass ever wanted was to push the line forward. Keep moving, they said. Gain ground. But what if that’s just what the enemy was waiting for? The Germans weren’t stupid. The 107^th had lost a lot of good men—too many, Bucky thought—but still they’d punched through the enemy lines. They’d dug in miles ahead of where they’d planned, and for what? A few muddy holes in the ground?

You’re getting paranoid, Barnes, he told himself. Soldiers don’t ask questions. They just follow orders.

But the darker the sky got, the more something inside him itched to pull back. Run away. Just grab Juniper and Dugan and go. The rest of the men would follow.

Or else they’ll shoot you in the back for being a deserter.

And yeah, that was a definite possibility, too. But still, Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that something just wasn’t right. He couldn’t explain it. Maybe he was cracking up. Maybe he’d turned coward after all. Or maybe his Omega instincts were finally kicking in.

Everybody always said Omegas had delicate natures. He’d scoffed at that notion before, but what if it was true? What if he was just one heat away from being a quivering coward?

He’d never missed taking even a single suppressant since the day he presented. He hadn’t dared. But as much as he trusted the pills, he had to admit, they didn’t seem to be working as well as they had before. His body just felt off. Sometimes his mind, too. And then there’d been the breakthrough.

His mouth went dry just thinking about it.

Halfway through basic, he’d woken up one morning to smell the first hint of a scent seeping through his pores, and it was only by some miracle that he’d managed to hit the showers before anyone else. He’d scrubbed himself raw then downed two whole suppressants at once. Anything to ward off the coming heat. But even though half the barracks had gone into rut the very next day, none of his company had ever seemed the wiser. He was still a Beta in the eyes of the Army. Just another soldier. A sergeant. But underneath …

You’re still you, he told himself. Even if you’re an Omega, that doesn’t change anything. You’re still your own man. You’re still YOU.

But was he?

Dugan’s snores cut through the relative silence, but it was his scent that drew Bucky up short. Charcoal and salt. That’s what the man smelled like. Bucky had smelled it thousands of times before. But was it his imagination, or did the scent smell stronger now? More intense? Maybe even inviting?

Oh, fuck.

Bucky’s heart sped up. His fingers twitched. He needed another pill. He wasn’t due to take his next dose for two more weeks, but fuck that. Something was wrong. Maybe some of those suppressants he’d bought were duds. Maybe they didn’t work as well when you kept them hidden away inside cold leather as opposed to a glass bottle. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He just needed another dose, and he needed it now.

He was just about to ask Juniper for his Bible back when the whistle of a shell cut through the air. Seconds later, an explosion blew open a crater less than a hundred feet from where they’d dug in.

“Shit!”

Bucky’s ears rang. Dirt and ash rained down from above. He scrambled to the edge of the foxhole and peered over the edge.

The Wehrmacht was everywhere.

Infantry. Tanks. Even a few planes, too. Shells rained down and bombs exploded while bullets tore up nearly every inch of ground surrounding them.

“Pull back!” Bucky shouted even as he leveled his rifle on the advancing line.

“And go where?” Dugan was on his feet now. The big Alpha pressed his chest into the mud right beside his sergeant and started firing at the enemy, too. “We step one foot out of this shithole, and we’ll be gunned down.”

Another whistle tore through the air. Bucky heard it for barely a fraction of a second before the shell blew open the foxhole to their left.

A severed arm landed in the mud in front of them.

“You think we’re any better here?” Bucky shoved the big guy to the other end of the dugout. “Now move!”

Behind them, Juniper was still clamoring to his feet. Bucky hooked an arm under the kid’s shoulders and all but dragged him along beside him.

“Move your ass!” he bit out. “That’s an order!”

And somehow the kid did.

As soon as they crested the surface, they ran. Or at least they tried to. Rain had already soaked the shell-torn ground. Mud was everywhere. Bucky fell to his knees more times than he could count, but by some miracle, no bullets tore through his back and no shells ripped him to pieces.

That had to count for something.

“Come on!” Bucky yanked Dum Dum out of the dirt when the man face-planted in front of him. “Go!”

Around them, other men were running, too. The 92^nd had taken ground to the west, but all Bucky could see in that direction was a blaze of fire. Shots rang out. GI’s poured across the fields. Up ahead, Bucky thought he heard their captain calling out for the men to rally to his position. But a second later another shell whizzed by. The ground exploded. And the spot where the men were gathering was nothing but an empty hole.

“Fucking hell,” Dugan spat, and Bucky couldn’t agree with him more.

If it wasn’t for the last traces of sunlight still clinging to the sky, Bucky would have sworn hours had gone by instead of minutes.

“There!” Bucky shoved Juniper into the nearest foxhole before reaching back to drag Dugan in behind him. “We gotta call for reinforcements.”

Dugan barked out a laugh. “How?”

A moment later, a dark-skinned soldier tumbled into the pit beside them.

“You got a radio?” Bucky asked as soon as he noticed the box hanging off the guy’s shoulder.

“Had one.” The man pointed to the hole in the radio’s metal casing. “Not much good anymore.”

Bucky cursed before tightening his grip on his rifle. Behind him, Juniper let out a cough. Followed by another one. And another one after that.

Bucky cursed again.

“We goin’ or stayin’?” Dugan asked, but when Bucky peeked out over the top, there wasn’t much of a choice.

German troops surrounded them. Tanks to the north and east. More infantry cutting off any escape to the south. And just a wall of flames to the west.

Hell. That’s all Italy was. Sheer and utter hell.

“Dig in,” Bucky told the guys behind him. “Don’t shoot until you can make it count.”

They made it count a lot.

Dugan wasn’t a terrible shot. Not once the enemy got up close. And the new guy—Gabe Jones, he said he was—could hold his own as well. But their Thompsons just didn’t have the range of Bucky’s Springfield. The sergeant picked off as many targets as he could, but reloading took time and ammo was limited. He traded off weapons with Juniper, letting the kid reload his Springfield while he took over with the third Thompson, but they couldn’t keep this up forever. They needed reinforcements, and they needed them fast.

Yeah, and you also need a smoke and a drink and a night alone with a pretty redhead, but ain’t none of that gonna happen either.

Bucky let out a deep breath.

Bitching wouldn’t get him anywhere. Not now. So he took back his sniper rifle from Juniper and looked through the scope.

There were too many targets. He had too little ammo. But so what? He never figured he’d get out of this war anyway. He just wished Juniper and Dugan and Jones didn’t have to follow him down. But if they were all about to eat a bullet, he’d make damn sure the enemy ate every last one he had left first.

He might just be an Omega, but at least he could do that.

So he lined up his shot. He let out a breath. He shot down one, two, three enemy soldiers. But before he could take out a fourth, a ray of blue light shot out of nowhere and disintegrated the man where he stood.

Bucky’s jaw fell open.

With his eye still pressed against his scope, he watched more of the Wehrmacht’s troops burst into nothing. Just shot after shot after shot. Those blue-light beams tore through the enemy’s line faster than anything Bucky had ever seen. Within seconds, the field was clear.

“What the hell was that?” Dugan said somewhere to his right, but Bucky couldn’t answer.

Still in a daze, he climbed out of the hole. Beside him, Gabe and Dum Dum did the same. More GI’s emerged as well. Only Juniper still stayed where he was. His coughing filled the silence.

What the hell?

Something deep inside Bucky told him to run. Get away while you still can. But those blue lights were so mesmerizing. It was like something out of a sci fi novel. He watched, still open-mouthed, as the beams chased the last of the Wehrmacht’s forces over the horizon.

A moment later, a tank crested the ridge-line.

“That looks … new,” Dum Dum muttered beside him.

And it did alright. Whatever the hell that thing was, it didn’t look like any tank Barnes had seen before. It was too big. Too advanced. And besides that, it was too blue. The cannon on that thing was glowing fucking blue.

And as Bucky watched, it slowly turned to aim its barrel in their direction.

“Get down!” he shouted.

Then the next thing he knew, blinding light surrounded them all.

Chapter Text

October 1943

Corporal Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader Dugan hated forced marches.

He hated marching in the noonday heat. He hated marching through the Wisconsin snow. And right now, he especially hated marching to whatever shithole internment camp these Nazi bastards were taking him to next.

Or, at least, he thought they were Nazis.

So far all of their captors spoke German, but they sure as hell weren’t wearing the standard Kraut uniform. Dugan was used to seeing either green, gray, or brown; but these boys were decked out head to toe in black. The only splotch of color anywhere was that fucked up symbol on their shoulders.

Who the hell even came up with an insignia like that anyway? A red skull with six tentacles underneath? What were they trying to claim they were, some kind of death squid?

The corporal shook his head.

None of this made a bit of sense.

Even if these guys were another branch of Nazis he’d never heard of before, why the hell would they fire on their own troops? It’s like they were mowing down Germans just so they could get to the Americans. And for what? Fresh POWs? Who the fuck would ever go to so much trouble just for that?

Damn it, all this thinking was giving him a headache. Better to let Sarge handle this bullshit, but right now Jimmy had enough on his shoulders.

Literally.

Dugan craned his neck. Just behind him, Barnes was half-carrying, half-dragging that shrimp of a private along beside him. The poor kid looked like hell. Junior’s face was waxy and flushed. His whole body was shaking. He missed every other step his stumbling feet tried to take, and he kept coughing so hard his hacking sounded more like a barking dog than any sound a human should make.

“You sure you don’t want me to take a turn, Jimmy?” Dugan asked, but Barnes just shook his head.

It was a testament to how tired the guy had to be that he didn’t correct him on his name right then.

“Nah, I’m good.” Barnes panted. “Just make sure I don’t step in any shit along the way, will ya?”

Dugan frowned while the newest member of their little group shook his head.

“You can’t carry that guy across the whole country by yourself, Barnes,” Jones told him. “You’re gonna have to let us help you.”

“The fuck I will,” Jimmy shot back.

Barnes had just opened his mouth to say more when Junior burst into a bout of coughing so bad it left half the Sergeant’s face covered in phlegm.

Dugan cringed, but Barnes just kept walking. Without saying so much as a word, he reached up and calmly wiped the spit off his face before readjusting his grip on Juniper. The sick private didn’t even seem to notice.

“Way I see it,” Jimmy said a little while later. “This kid here’s contagious. Probably got influenza or pneumonia or some other shit I ain’t ever heard of. I don’t know. I’m no doctor. But he’s one of us, and I’m not leaving him behind. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna risk you guys catching it either.”

The dark-skinned Alpha just shook his head. “So that’s it then? You’ve just decided to play the martyr?”

“I’m not playing anything.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “You know how much of my life I’ve spent sitting around sickbeds? I’ve got this one friend back home—name’s Steve—and he—”

“Oh, not another Steve story.” Dugan groaned.

“Shut up, Dum Dum,” Bucky snapped. “I’m making a point here. Anyway, this friend of mine, he’s always sick. Bronchitis. Influenza. Pneumonia. You name it, he’s had it. And I’ve been there with him just about every time, and not once did I ever catch it, too.”

“Yeah?” Dum Dum’s mustache twitched. “And how many of those times did you have to march over twenty miles a day with some sick runt thrown over your back?”

The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. Beside him, Juniper’s head slumped deeper into the crook of Jimmy’s shoulder, but neither of the men seemed to notice.

“This isn’t up for debate, Dum Dum.”

“The hell it’s not.” Dugan could smell his own scent sour with displeasure. “Give me one reason why I should let this go.”

“I’ll give you the only reason that matters,” Barnes bit back. “I outrank you. Now eyes forward, Corporal, and give us some space. It’s bad enough having to keep up this pace without having to smell all that Alpha stink you keep giving off.”

And that was the last Jimmy would say on the matter.

The stubborn fucking ass.

They marched all day. A few breaks were given. Rations were handed out and water passed around. Not much was said whenever they stopped, however. Most of the men were too tired to do much other than chew. But they could still watch. They could still listen. So that’s what they did.

Or at least tried to.

Dugan kept his eyes on the enemy that whole first day. He listened in on conversations and tried his damnedest to figure out what was going on. But how was he supposed to understand anything when all those Kraut bastards ever spoke was German? Fucking hell. For all he knew, every last one of those Squid Skulls were spilling enemy secrets every time they opened their mouths. But what damn good would it do him if not a single GI spoke the language?

“I speak German,” Gabe mentioned later that night, right after Dugan had finished venting his frustrations, and everyone around him froze.

“Try keeping that to yourself,” Barnes whispered.

The sergeant snuck a peak at their nearest guard, but the Kraut either hadn’t heard or hadn’t cared. Still, they all waited a few more beats before they dared to talk again.

“So?” Dugan’s voice was hushed but excited. “What’d you hear? Anything that can help us out?”

But Gabe just gave him a tired smile.

“If you want intel, I’ve got plenty. But as for helping us out …” He waved a hand at the tank parked on the hill behind them. “Unless you’ve got some plan for disabling all those weapons pointed at us, I don’t see it doing us much good.”

Still, Gabe told them everything he’d heard.

Not that it was much of a help in the end.

The Krauts that had caught them were some other branch of the Wehrmacht alright. From what Gabe could tell, they called themselves Hydra. He couldn’t be sure, but Jones thought it sounded like they’d broken away from the Nazi party, though. They kept mentioning some guy named Schmidt like he was their divine leader, then would talk about Hitler like he was nothing but a joke. Real Nazis never talked like that. And besides, there were all those Wehrmacht boys they’d slaughtered, too.

“Any idea where they’re taking us,” Bucky asked when he was done, and Gabe’s lips tightened.

“Austria, from what I heard,” Jones said. “There’s some weapons facility in Kreischberg. Sounds like they’ve been putting a lot of POWs to work making new toys for that Schmidt guy they keep talking about. Guess they needed more labor.”

“Or just a chance to test out the goods,” Dugan added.

Behind them, Juniper broke into a fresh bout of coughing. Barnes darted off to check on the kid, and Dugan followed.

“Easy.” Barnes used a sleeve to wipe the phlegm off Juniper’s chin. “Here. Have some more water.”

Barnes held his own canteen out to the private. Junior’s hadn’t made it out of Azzano. Propping the kid up against his own chest, Jimmy let the kid drink his fill before lowering him back to the ground.

The kid hacked and coughed for nearly a full minute straight before finally settling down.

With a huff, Dugan sidled up next to his sergeant.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna be a martyr,” Dugan said softly.

“And I thought I told you to keep your distance,” Barnes returned.

It took all the corporal’s willpower not to beat some sense into the stubborn ass right there. Instead, he just took a deep breath.

“Hell, Jimmy, you know I never was any good at listening.”

His sergeant snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

And that was all Barnes said. No shit about calling him Jimmy. No fuss over his rank. Just four measly words. And it seemed to take all the man had left in him just to say that.

Fucking hell.

“You know these Krauts ain’t gonna let us rest,” Dugan pushed on. “We’ve probably got days of marching ahead of us. You won’t be doing anybody any favors if you keel over halfway in.”

Barnes let out a tired breath. “What are you trying to say, Dum Dum?”

“He’s saying—” Gabe sat down on Jimmy’s other side. “—that you need to let us help you.”

“Not happening.” The idiot shook his head. “It’s too risky. If either of you catch this—”

“And what about you?” Dugan had had enough of this shit. “You think you’ve got some kind of divine protection just because you read that fu—” He crossed himself even as he caught his slip-up. “—flipping Bible every night?”

Dugan sucked in a breath, ready to say more. But before he could get out a word, Juniper bolted up in a panic.

“Oh, God!” the private cried out. “Sarge, I’m sorry! I’m so … so ….”

Then he dissolved into a coughing fit so bad one of their guards decided to come investigate.

“What?” Dugan yelled at the Squid Skull bastard as soon as he came up. “Never seen a man coughing before? Move along. That’s right. Go!”

The Kraut stuck around just long enough to make sure nothing funny was going on. Then he snapped out something in German before continuing his rounds.

Through it all, Barnes kept one arm around Juniper. Their sergeant held the kid up while Junior hacked giant wads of mucus into the dirt. But not once did Jimmy’s eyes ever leave the retreating German.

When the guard was well out of earshot, Barnes turned to Jones.

“What’d the bastard say?”

Gabe’s eyes darted to the growing pile of phlegm on the ground before turning back to the sergeant.

“Said if he can’t keep up tomorrow, they’ll shoot him.”

Jimmy’s jaw tightened. “He’ll keep up.”

“Course he will,” Dugan said. “Kid made it through Fort McCoy, didn’t he? If he could manage that, he sure as hell ain’t gonna be put down by some fucking cold.”

Between them, Juniper coughed until he retched. By the time he’d settled down, Barnes’ jaw was clenched so tight, Dugan was surprised the guy hadn’t broken a tooth.

Talk about a fucking mess.

Dugan shared a look with the new guy, but all Gabe did was tighten his lips. There wasn’t much either one of them could say. Not now at least. Not while Juniper was still awake. And that kid damn well was awake. No matter how much Jimmy kept trying to convince him to get some sleep, Junior just kept clawing at his sergeant’s field jacket and muttering some shit about being sorry over and over again.

“What the hell is he going on about anyway?” Dugan finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck if I know.” Jimmy forced his canteen back up to Juniper’s lips again. “Here, kid. Christ. Take it easy and drink something, will ya? You’re gonna pop a lung if you keep hacking like this.”

Juniper choked down a quick gulp of water. He coughed then drank again.

It continued on like that for several minutes until finally the kid was so exhausted he didn’t even fight as Jimmy laid him back down. Dugan let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He was just about to pull Jimmy and Gabe aside for a quick planning session when Junior shot out a hand and snagged Barnes by the arm.

“I lost it,” the kid said.

Barnes shot Dugan a questioning glance before turning back to Juniper. “Lost what?”

“Your Bible.” The kid let out a trembling breath. “I dropped it.” He coughed. “Right when the shelling started. I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m so sorry.”

And that was almost enough to make Dugan crack up right there.

A Bible?

Seriously?

Trust Juniper to get his dick tied in a knot over something as small as that. Here they were, caught by the enemy, stuck in the middle of a death march to God-knows-where, and the Beta was worried about losing somebody else’s property? Talk about fucked up priorities.

The big Alpha smiled as he cut a glance at his sergeant. Jimmy would set him straight. He’d brush the whole thing off before chewing the kid out for working himself up over nothing. Or at least that’s what Dugan thought would happen.

Only it didn’t.

“Sarge?” Dugan said after a moment, but Barnes didn’t respond. He didn’t even move. The man just kept sitting there, frozen in place, his eyes wide and panicked.

Dugan’s own heart sped up just looking at him.

“Christ, Jimmy.” Dugan shared a look with Gabe before grabbing Barnes by the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you? You look like somebody just walked over your grave.”

It took a few shakes before Barnes finally shrugged off Dugan’s hand.

“Huh? What?” He blinked several times before shaking his head. “No. No, I’m fine. It’s fine. It’s just …” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. Just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

Like anyone was going to believe that.

Still, Dugan wasn’t about to question the man. Not here. Not in front of so many witnesses. So instead, he just listened in as Barnes went overboard convincing the kid that he didn’t mind the loss. It wasn’t his fault. Hell, it was just a book. He could get another one.

“So stop your worrying and get some sleep,” Jimmy told him. “We’re gonna need all the hands we can muster if we’re gonna get out of this, so hurry up and get better, Private. That’s an order.”

The kid gave a tired salute before crumbling back to the ground. As soon as he started to snore, Jimmy tucked his own field jacket over Junior’s chest before turning back to Gabe and Dugan.

Several minutes passed before anyone spoke again.

“I could really use that cigarette right about now.” Barnes let out a weak laugh.

“You and me both,” Gabe agreed, and the corporal nodded, too.

Neither Dugan nor Jones said anything about the sergeant’s shaking hands.

“You know,” Gabe started, “I could ask around. See if anybody else has a Bible they wouldn’t mind you borrowing.”

“No.” Jimmy shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble. I’m sure some of the boys—”

“No.” Barnes’ tone shifted to that hard command mode, and all at once the panic was gone. His hands stopped shaking. “If we’re gonna start a Grapevine, we’re not gonna waste time on it borrowing books. We need intel, and we need a chain of command. Either of you know how many officers are with us?”

Dugan looked at Gabe and shrugged. “Pretty sure the captain bit it last night. The lieutenant, too. Or at least that’s the rumor going around. One of the boys thought he saw McAdams get hit by one of those blue light guns, but there wasn’t exactly a body left behind afterwards, so who knows. What about you, Jones?”

Gabe didn’t have much information either. From what he could tell, the 92^nd got hit even harder than the 107^th. And from the few Black faces he’d seen, Dugan would sure as hell believe it.

“Fuck,” Barnes cursed. “There’s gotta be somebody that outranks me. A First Sergeant. Staff Sergeant. Somebody.”

“Hell, Jimmy, there’s lots of somebodies that outrank you,” Dugan said. “It’s finding a live one that’s the trick.”

Barnes scowled in his direction, and Dugan just smiled.

“Thanks a lot, smart ass. I really appreciate the help.”

Damn right, you do, Dugan thought. As long as Jimmy was pissed, he could think. Let him wallow, and they might as well all cash in their chips. As for that flash of panic he’d seen before …

“Look.” Barnes’ voice cut through his thoughts. “The way I see it, this might just be an opportunity. Odds are, we’re the first guys ever to go up against the shit these bastards are packing. If we can get inside that factory, we can gather intel, do some recon, maybe even steal a few weapons to take back to base.”

“That’s assuming any of us ever make it out again,” Jones pointed out.

“We’ll make it out.” Barnes shot a hard look at both of them. “You got that? That’s the only scenario we can afford to go with. We start thinking otherwise, we might as well slit our own damn throats right now.”

Barnes stared each of them down until they nodded back. Then they got to work.

The Krauts had been adamant they keep down the chatter while they were marching, but so far, they didn’t seem to mind a bit of conversation now that they’d made camp. That was interesting. If they’d been smart, they would have tried to ban any form of communication between the prisoners, but maybe they just didn’t care. Or maybe they didn’t see a point. Or maybe, as Jimmy pointed out, they were just waiting for an uprising so they could stomp down on them all the harder.

That was something to think about.

“Odds are they’ll make an example of anybody who steps out of line,” Barnes said. “That means we have to play this smart. They know they have us outgunned, but there’s gotta be a kink in their armor somewhere. We’ve just gotta find it.”

As subtly as they could, they passed word down the line to the rest of the men. As far as they could tell, no commissioned officers had been captured, but there were a few other NCOs. Jenkins, their staff sergeant, was stationed somewhere near the front of the column, and the 92^nd had a first sergeant that was floating around somewhere, too.

“Thank God,” Barnes had muttered as soon as he found out someone else outranked him.

Each one of them itched to go find the other NCOs, but they all knew better than to move. There was Junior to think about, for one. Sarge wouldn’t venture more than an arm’s length away from the kid. But besides that, there were still the Germans to contend with, too. The Krauts might not mind a bit of whispering amongst the men, but they sure as hell wouldn’t tolerate any milling around. A private up ahead had already learned that the hard way.

It took time, but through the Grapevine, they learned that Jenkins had already started organizing the men around him, so they did the same. By the time the Germans finally called for silence, they’d found out there were at least 90 men with them from the 107^th and around 30 from the 92^nd. Dugan just hoped most of their missing men had made it back to base. After last night’s battle, though, he wouldn’t place any bets on those odds.

Still, despite all his thoughts and worries that night, Dugan fell asleep quickly enough. Then, after a quick breakfast of rations, he was up and marching again.

March and sleep.

March and sleep.

March and sleep.

For days, it felt like that’s all he did. Other than their scheduled meal breaks and some quick stops to piss or shit along the trail, there wasn’t time for much else. The Krauts just kept pushing them forward, and the GI’s just kept moving.

Most of them, anyway.

Every now and then a man would fall. If he couldn’t get up again, out came one of those damn blue light guns. Just hearing the thing power up was unnerving enough, but seeing it in action …

Dugan shivered.

He could only imagine the trail of bodies they would have left behind otherwise, but thanks to those fucking guns, nothing remained of their fallen soldiers but dust. Nothing to bury. Nothing to mourn. It’s like all those men hadn’t even existed. They were just gone. Just like that.

Talk about fucked up.

By the time they’d crossed the Austrian border, Dugan’s nerves were worn thin. Every time he heard one of those damned guns whir to life, he expected to look over his shoulder and see either Barnes or Juniper sprawled across the ground. By the grace of God, Junior hadn’t coughed up a lung yet, and by some even greater miracle, Jimmy hadn’t keeled over from exhaustion.

Not that it wasn’t from the sergeant’s lack of trying, however.

Over and over again, Dugan kept pestering Barnes to let him help. Jones tried his hand at it, too. But Jimmy was too damned stubborn to give in. Every time they got in close, he was like a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let either of them lay a hand on the sick kid. And thanks to the fuss he kicked up, the Krauts wouldn’t either. The Germans would just tell them all to shut up. Keep moving. Then they’d wave one of their fucking guns at the line, and that was it. No more arguing.

At least for the moment.

It wasn’t until the fifth day that Jimmy finally started listening to reason. Juniper had just stopped hacking up green-tinged mucus the afternoon before. His coughs were fewer and farther between, and his lungs no longer sounded like the back end of a rattle-snake every time he breathed.

Dugan couldn’t imagine how it was possible. He’d caught Barnes slipping Juniper some of his rations when the kid wasn’t looking, and Gabe and Dugan had done the same. But still, after all the days they’d spent marching, the corporal had expected Jimmy to be dragging a corpse by now. Instead, the kid looked like he was actually on the mend.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the sergeant.

“Come on, Jimmy. Time to share the load,” Dugan said that morning as they were heading out, and for once Barnes relented.

For the rest of the day, Gabe and Dugan took turns helping Juniper. The kid still wasn’t well enough to make it on his own. But even though Junior needed a shoulder to lean on, he was actually able to hold up some of his own weight. And not once did he cough in anyone’s face, so at least there was that. As for Jimmy, though …

“Looks like we’re getting close,” Dugan said for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, but like always, the sergeant didn’t respond.

The big Alpha wasn’t even sure he could hear him.

Throughout the march, Dugan had made it a point that whoever wasn’t on Juniper duty stuck close to Barnes. The guy was so exhausted, he needed someone to watch his back. And his front. And his sides.

Hell, all around him, really.

It’d become apparent early that morning that even though the sergeant could still put one foot in front of the other, Jimmy obviously wasn’t seeing where he was going. If Dugan or Jones hadn’t been there to guide him, he’d have either stumbled off the trail or fallen on his ass God knows how many times. And if he went down, Dugan doubted the sergeant had enough left in him to get back up. So they just had to keep him on his feet. That’s all there was to it.

Unfortunately, life never could be that easy. Marching over hills and valley was bad enough, but now they’d hit mountains. Fucking snow-capped mountains. Dugan’s thighs burned just looking at them. But as much as he hated whatever Kraut bastard had decided to build a base above sea level, he hated the thought of those blue light guns even more.

“Come on, Jimmy. Big steps,” he said when Barnes stumbled on the incline.

And so they started their trek up.

And up.

And up.

Dugan lost count of the number of switchbacks they’d taken after they passed the twelfth. They just kept going back and forth, back and forth. And all the while, the wind just kept getting colder, the air thinner, until finally, their destination loomed in front of them.

“Fucking hell,” Gabe muttered.

Dugan couldn’t have put it better himself.

They marched through chain-link fences topped with razor wire, across open yards filled with trucks and tanks, and all the way up to a towering building that didn’t look like any factory Dugan had ever seen before.

“It’s a fortress,” Juniper whispered, and Dugan couldn’t deny that either.

Whatever base this was, it sure as hell didn’t look like they’d be leaving it anytime soon.

Or possibly ever.

Still, Dugan did like Jimmy had said. He kept his eyes opened. He took stock of every turn they made and every door they passed through. He memorized the exact path he’d have to take to get out of here again, and he tried to tell himself he’d use it. No way was this the end. He’d get out of this hellhole. They all would.

They just had to figure out a way past all those Squid Skulls first.

And boy did this place have a lot of those bastards in it.

Eventually, they made it to the facility’s cell block. Cages filled the floor. Other prisoners stared out at them from behind the bars while the guards split up their newest residents. Dugan didn’t even see the Kraut that ripped Juniper off Gabe’s shoulder until the kid was already gone.

“Hey!” he shouted. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

But then a glowing barrel was shoved into Jones’ gut, and the next thing Dugan knew, he, Barnes, and Gabe were stumbling into the cell behind them. The door slammed shut. And that was it. They were locked in tight.

Mother fucking hell.

Chapter Text

October 1943

Major James Montgomery Falsworth didn’t stand when the latest prisoners entered his cell. He supposed his mother would have chided him for being rude, but he also supposed he didn’t care. They were only Yanks, after all. Two Alphas and a Beta like himself. None of their latest guests looked like they expected much in the way of decorum. And if they did, so what? Falsworth was tired. He was sore. And he was hungry. He was hardly in any condition to play host. But on the other hand, these Americans looked like they were hardly in any condition to be entertained. Especially the Beta. As soon as the man stepped over the threshold, he fell to the floor and didn’t get back up.

“Christ, Jimmy!”

The Yank with the bowler hat was at his compatriot’s side in a heartbeat. The dark-skinned soldier dropped to his heels beside them next. Falsworth supposed he should have offered assistance to the man, too, but as far as he could tell, the Beta was still breathing. Which was good. Very good. The major just hoped the Yank could keep it up. Sharing a cell with Americans was bad enough, but sharing one with a corpse was even worse. Falsworth had already had that pleasure twice before, and he certainly didn’t want it again. He didn’t think his nose could take the smell.

And my, but aren’t you the compassionate one, a voice spoke up from some far-off corner of his mind. Whatever happened to caring about your fellow man?

The major snorted at his own thoughts.

Caring about your fellow man? Better to ask whatever happened to “caring” in general, because Falsworth certainly didn’t know. Somewhere between parachuting into Italy and ending up imprisoned in this God-awful hell, he’d lost touch with just about all feeling period.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the monotony. Or maybe it was the never-ending stress of watching man after man after man die around him. But whatever the reason, Falsworth couldn’t deny that a numbness had crept into his soul. And when he took time to examine it, this new-found apathy disturbed him. At times he felt like nothing but a shell of his former self. But still, better a shell than a corpse. Speaking of which …

Falsworth turned his attention back to the man lying on the floor.

“Come on, Jimmy.” Bowler Hat shook the Beta’s shoulder. “I know you’re tired, but now isn’t the time to be napping yet.”

The Beta groaned but otherwise didn’t wake up.

“Just let him rest, Dum Dum,” the other Alpha said. “His lungs sound clear. I don’t think he’s sick. Just exhausted.”

The big Alpha frowned at that, but otherwise relented. The two Yanks spent a few more moments staring down at their unconscious comrade before eventually turning their attention to their new cellmates.

“And just who the fuck are you?” the one in the bowler hat asked.

Trust the Americans to have such wonderful manners.

Still, Falsworth made sure to keep his face neutral. He tipped his head—more to show the men the insignia on his beret rather than out of a sign of respect—and made his introductions.

“James Montgomery Falsworth. A major in His Majesty’s 3^rd Independent Parachute Brigade. And this—” He motioned to the other Beta sitting beside him. “—is Jacques Dernier of the French Resistance.”

The Frenchman waved a hand in acknowledgment but otherwise didn’t speak. Not that his silence was anything new. Dernier might know English, but it wasn’t his native language. And though the man was certainly fluent enough, he rarely kept up much of a conversation if it wasn’t in his mother tongue.

Which apparently the dark-skinned Alpha spoke as well.

Interesting.

Falsworth listened in as the Black man and Dernier started up a rapid exchange. Before long, the two were smiling. The Frenchman even laughed. Eventually, though, the Alpha turned back to Falsworth and gave him a nod.

“I’m Gabe Jones, a private in the 92^nd Infantry. And this is Corporal Dum Dum Dugan—” He gestured to the big Alpha. “—and Sergeant James Barnes—” He motioned to the man on the floor. “—of the 107^th.”

Falsworth nodded in return.

“And as for your sergeant,” the major started. “He isn’t ill, I hope.”

“What’s the matter, Monty?” Dugan puffed up. “Scared someone might give you the sniffles?”

Falsworth frowned. “Contagion isn’t something to be taken lightly.”

“And neither is a bit of fucking compassion,” the big Alpha shot back. “But I wouldn’t expect a cold-hearted Limey like you to understand that.”

Before Falsworth even realized what he was doing, he was already on his feet, his fists clenched and chin down. Beside him, Dernier put a hand on his chest. He spoke rapidly in French—not that Falsworth could understand what he was saying. All he could gather was the intent. And apparently, so did the big Yank.

“That’s right.” Dugan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Go ahead and listen to your little froggy friend. I’m sure Frenchmen like him know all about dodging fights.”

And with those words, they went at it.

Falsworth couldn’t honestly say who threw the first punch, though he’d put money on it being Dernier. The Frenchman might have been older and smaller, but he was a dirty fighter and he didn’t take insults lightly. Not that Falsworth ever had either, but still. He thought by now he’d grown mature enough to avoid petty scuffles such as these, but apparently that wasn’t the case.

Even as he threw hooks and jabs and caught his own in turn, he couldn’t exactly explain what came over him.

For one blinding moment, it was as if his former apathy just melted away. Maybe it was something about the corporal’s bearing. Maybe all these weeks of imprisonment had impaired his better judgement. Or maybe the Yank’s words had simply hit too close to home.

Whatever the cause, though, pure fury consumed him as he lit into the mustached Alpha. He had no idea how long their fight lasted. He’d like to say he landed a few good blows. But by the time the three of them had retreated to opposite sides of the cell, the big Yank only had a bit of blood dripping from his left nostril while Falsworth staggered under what he thought was most probably a mild concussion.

Glancing over at Dernier, the Frenchman didn’t look like he’d fared any better.

Work certainly looked to be fun come the morning.

Up above, footsteps rattled over the top of their cage. A pair of familiar boots came to a halt in the center of the bars, and a moment later, Colonel Lohmer’s smirking face looked down at them.

“And what the fuck are you looking at?” Dugan yelled at the commanding officer, but Lohmer’s smile only grew.

“Exactly what I want to see, prisoner,” the colonel said. “Exactly what I want to see.”

And with that, Lohmer strode away.

The big yank just kept standing where he was, his brow furrowed as he stared up at where the colonel had just been standing.

“And what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” the Yank asked.

“Probably that you’re playing right into the man’s hand,” Jones answered.

Turning his attention towards the other Alpha, Falsworth noted for the first time that the private had managed to pull their sergeant out of the center of the pen. The Beta was currently pushed up against the cell’s bars while Jones stood guard in front of him.

“Didn’t you notice how they were trying to split us up?” Jones asked the other Alpha. “You really think it’s a coincidence they put a Frenchman, a Brit, and three Americans—one of which happens to be Black—in the same cell together? Just look around.” He pointed to the cells surrounding them. “Every single one of these cages is filled with mixed men just like us.”

“In hopes that we’ll fight each other instead of them,” Falsworth finished. “A simple plan, but rather effective it seems.”

He dabbed at the blood dribbling from his split lip.

Yes, a rather effective plan indeed.

Dugan cursed again. The Yank seemed to breathe profanity. Then he went over to check on Barnes, but the poor man was still dead to the world.

Not dead dead, of course. The Beta was still breathing. But if he hadn’t been roused by their previous altercation, Falsworth doubted the man would gain consciousness any time soon.

Part of him wondered if it wouldn’t be kinder if the man never gained consciousness at all.

But of course, he didn’t say that. The Yank might have had a point when he said he was lacking compassion, but at least Falsworth still had his tact. So he kept his mouth shut. He watched the big Alpha fuss over his friend before asking Jones about some other soldier named Juniper, and then it was just the two Americans talking in hushed tones while Falsworth eavesdropped and Dernier pretended he wasn’t doing the same.

Not much changed over dinner. Even less once they went to sleep.

By the time morning came, the only one up for talking was the formerly unconscious sergeant. The man took a few moments to catch his bearings. He was stiff and sore. Exhaustion still lined his face despite a full night’s sleep. And by his own account, he seemed to remember little of the previous day’s march and even less after reaching the base. Just seeing his eyes widen as he took in his surroundings was oddly amusing, though some of the humor faded when Barnes began to panic over a missing soldier.

When was the last time Falsworth had felt that kind of alarm over a missing comrade?

When was the last time he’d felt any sort of alarm at all?

Faces and names flashed through his mind, but Falsworth pushed them away like always. He’d seen more than his fair share of the dead. But that was just it. The dead were dead. They were gone. Nothing would bring them back, so why waste any time thinking about it?

He’d gotten so good at numbing himself towards all the death he’d seen that sometime along the way, he supposed he’d begun to numb himself towards life as well. Every prisoner in this camp was just a walking corpse, after all. A few men still held out hope for a rescue, but the rest of them knew better. Dozens of men had already died under Hydra’s brutal policies. More would follow until eventually they all met their end. The thought wasn’t pretty, but it was one Falsworth no longer shied away from. As for the Yanks …

“And you’re sure Junior’s okay?” the sergeant asked his men. “He was hot as a griddle a few days ago. The last thing he needs right now is a relapse.”

“I’m telling you, Jimmy, the boy’s on the mend.” Dugan rolled his eyes. “If you wanna worry about anybody here, start worrying about yourself. You looked like death on two feet yesterday, and I’m telling you now, you still don’t look much better.”

“He’s right, Sarge,” Jones added. “Try not to work yourself up over this. After all you did for Juniper, you deserve a rest.”

“Good luck getting one,” Falsworth muttered, and for the first time that morning, three pairs of eyes turned towards him.

Wonderful.

The heavy reek of angry Alpha wafted up from Dugan’s side of the cell. As a Beta, Fallsworth might not be able to pick up on the subtler nuances of the pheromones—such communication was reserved for Alphas and Omegas, after all—but the odor was still unpleasant. So much so, apparently, that Barnes looked ready to gag.

The sergeant pushed himself away from his corporal and retreated as far as he could from the stench. As soon as he didn’t look ready to throw up, his eyes darted around the cell. They paused on each face, and Barnes’ jaw tightened as took in all the black eyes, torn lips, and bloody noses surrounding him.

“Anyone care to fill me in on what I missed?” he asked, and the corporal made it a point to do just that.

Mostly.

Dugan might have left out a few of his more antagonizing remarks, but Jones made sure to fill in the blanks. By the time he was done, Barnes had his face buried in both hands.

“Christ, Dugan, I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I? What the fuck you think you’re doing starting fights like that anyway?”

“Wasn’t my fault.” The big Alpha shrugged. “Frenchie over there threw the first punch.”

Barnes cut an eye up at the corporal before letting out a long, deep breath. Slowly, he turned to Dernier and Falsworth.

“Sorry about this one.” He hooked a thumb towards the mustached soldier beside him. “He’s called Dum Dum for a reason. You can’t listen to a word he says.”

Then he extended a hand and introduced himself. James Buchanan Barnes. Or just plain Bucky for short. Falsworth thought it was a rather silly nickname, really, but what could he say? The other Yanks had already dubbed him “Monty,” and as much as he preferred the name James, he’d met far too many of those in his life to contend with the confusion. Better to just accept the moniker and move on. Life certainly seemed easier that way.

Or at least as easy as it could get inside a Hydra-run prison camp.

Falsworth had to admit, though, that the mood did change after Barnes had woken up. The man had an affable enough nature. He was clearly trying to ease some of the tension in their cell. And so far, he was succeeding. By the time they received their morning rations, even Dugan’s sour scent had abated. That alone seemed to relieve Barnes immeasurably, which Falsworth found interesting for some reason he couldn’t quite place.

How odd.

The major had come to accept that there was something behind those little nagging feelings that ate away at the back of his mind. And right now, one of those feelings was pestering him about Barnes. He couldn’t say exactly why. All he knew was that there was something here that he had to be missing. He didn’t know what it was just yet, but he intended to find out.

So he watched and he waited.

If nothing else, the American had presented him with a mystery that was a rather pleasant distraction from his usual drudgery. Whatever Barnes was hiding would surely be exposed soon enough. Whether it was a growing illness or merely selfish duplicity, no secret stayed hidden for long in these pens. Even out on the floor, word travelled fast. So while Falsworth maintained his daily work quotas, he kept his eyes and his ears open, too.

And so the days passed.

One bled into the next and the next and the next until over a week had gone by since the Americans had first entered his cage. Falsworth might not yet have unraveled the mystery still tugging at the back of his mind, but by that point, he could at least say he had a much better understanding of his three newest cellmates.

Dugan, for one, could be crass, boorish, and certainly short-tempered, but the man was clearly devoted to his friends—especially his sergeant. Though the big man had only known Jones since they were captured, it was apparent that he’d accepted the man into his inner circle long before reaching Kreischberg. What Falsworth found odd, however, was that at some point during the past week, the same courtesy had been extended to himself and Dernier as well.

Falsworth expected Barnes had something to do with that turnabout, though he couldn’t say it displeased him. As much as the big Alpha might rankle his nerves at times, he’d much rather have him as a friend than a foe. And after eight days of living together, Falsworth could honestly say he thought of him as a friend.

That thought alone was a bit alarming.

Ever since his last two cellmates had passed on, the major had sworn off any further ties. But somehow these three Yanks had worked their way past his defenses. He still wasn’t sure how they’d managed it, though once again, he expected Barnes was to blame.

That man had a penchant for getting in other people’s business, after all.

He’d begun to notice it that first day when Barnes had limped onto the factory floor. The sergeant had made it a point to check in on as many of his fellow soldiers as he could. It was all subtle, of course. A whisper here. A nod there. Sometimes a pat on the back.

He’d gravitated towards the other Yanks in the 107^th first—especially a young private that had been stationed on the same line as Falsworth himself. But it hadn’t taken long for him to extend the same courtesy to the rest of the prisoners as well. Whether they were American, British, or French, he treated them all the same. He offered encouragement. He helped out where he could. And he covered for mistakes when he was able.

Without even trying, he’d already become well liked amongst the rest of the POWs. Almost everyone knew who he was even if they didn’t know him by name. But while Barnes certainly had the nature of a mother hen, Falsworth couldn’t help but think that there was a bit of a fox inside him as well. There was just something behind the man’s eyes, some strategy to the sergeant’s actions. The major couldn’t say what it was just yet. All he knew was that it was there, hidden somewhere within the complexity of the man’s nature.

Yes, Sergeant Barnes was certainly the most complicated of the three Yanks, but that wasn’t to say Jones was by any means simple.

Though the private held the lowest rank amongst the Americans, he was also the only one to attend University. And though he was typically a reserved man, when he spoke, he spoke well and to the point. Falsworth had come to respect the thought that went into Jones’ words. The English ones, at any rate. The major couldn’t make out much when the man spoke French, but based on the few crude phrases he caught here and there—as well as Dernier’s occasional belly-deep laughter—he thought the man might have a fairly decent sense of humor, too.

To say the least, they were certainly interesting characters. But still, something nagged at the back of his mind. Falsworth just wished he could figure out what it was.

“Deep thoughts, Monty?” Barnes asked one night, and the major just gifted him with a shrug.

“Perhaps.”

“Don’t let him fool ya, Jimmy,” Dugan cut in from across the cell. “He’s probably thinking about all the shit he’s gonna do to that girl he’s got waiting on him back home.”

“You mean my mother?” Falsworth deadpanned.

“Hey, what you choose to do behind closed doors is none of my business.” Dugan laughed.

“Oh, give it a break, Dum Dum.” Barnes’ voice was tired but still cutting. “You know the only mother fucker around here is you.”

And that was enough to make the corporal sputter so hard, a guard had to come by to tell him to shut up.

Once again, the stench of upset Alpha filled the cell.

“Alright?” Falsworth asked when he felt a shudder roll through Barnes, but the sergeant just nodded.

Still, something struck Monty as odd.

More nights than not, Barnes had taken to positioning himself between the major and the Frenchman. Falsworth couldn’t say why. As close as the three seemed in brotherhood, Barnes certainly preferred to keep his distance from the other two Americans physically. Even now, the sergeant pressed his back harder against the bars as he struggled to breathe. Falsworth couldn’t say he appreciated Dugan’s stench, but surely the scent coming off the man wasn’t as bad as all that. At least not for a Beta. If he’d been an Omega, though …

A crazy thought flashed through the major’s mind, but he shoved it away immediately.

More likely than not, the American just had a sensitive nose. Falsworth would have thought all those months spent in the field would have cured him of that, but he supposed Barnes hadn’t been so lucky. Not that that was anything new. From what Falsworth had observed, luck and the sergeant seemed mutually exclusive.

At least on the factory floor anyway.

Barnes let out a groan, and Falsworth winced in sympathy.

“Ribs?” the major asked.

“And back and gut, too.” Barnes let out a tired chuckle. “Lohmer really got in some good ones today.”

“Indeed.” Falsworth pressed his lips together tightly.

The major might have said more, but he doubted it would do any good. Dugan had already exhausted himself chiding the man. Jones had said more than his fair share, too. And even Dernier had urged the American not to push their captors too far. But on all counts, Barnes had refused to listen.

Each day it was always the same.

The five of them would march out to the factory floor. They’d all work and work and work for hours on end. Monty was always assigned to the assembly line while Dugan and Jones had been tasked with wielding. Barnes and Dernier were typically couriers.  

The first day when Barnes had dropped a load of fuel cells, Monty had taken it for pure clumsiness. The man had been exhausted from his previous day’s trek. He could barely take a step without limping. No one with any sense would have expected him capable of hard labor.

But as more and more accidents happened, the major started to notice a trend.

Each time Barnes tipped over his cart or mishandled a load, it was usually in conjunction with an accident happening somewhere else. The diversion was obvious if one was looking for it, but not so obvious that their guards caught on. Which meant only one party bore the brunt of the punishment, and that one party was typically Barnes.

“Seriously, Jimmy, you’re gonna have to stop pulling this stupid shit every day,” Dugan’s voice pulled Falsworth back to the present. “Let those other guys take their own licks for a change. You don’t owe ‘em anything.”

“Never said I did.” Barnes winced before shifting his back again.

The man’s bare wrist brushed Falsworth’s hand as he tried to get comfortable, and the major frowned at the heat he felt coming off the American’s skin.

“You know Dum Dum’s right,” Gabe pressed on. “Lohmer’s already labeled you as a trouble-maker. He’s trailing after you each day just waiting for you to slip up. And all those beatings you keep getting sure aren’t doing you any favors.”

“You’re telling me,” Barnes muttered.

“Then stop,” Dugan snapped. “What good is getting your ass kicked every day doing anybody?”

“If It gives some other guy the chance to get some real work done, it’s doing a hell of a lot of good.”

Barnes leveled a glare at the corporal, and for once the big Alpha just held his tongue.

Falsworth knew what the sergeant meant by “real work.” The only work any of the Yanks seemed interested in was sabotage and escape. Not that their efforts ever saw much fruition. Their guards were quick to notice any substandard workmanship, and the punishment was often brutal. The same went for any attempts at escape.

Early in the major’s imprisonment, one of Falsworth’s own fellow officers had been caught trying to sneak materials off the floor one evening, and the man had been shot in the head on the spot. And not with one of those new Hydra weapons, either. Conners had taken a .32ACP to the skull. The mess had been horrendous. Falsworth knew that intimately well. He’d been one of prisoners chosen to clean it up.

“You know, you could be doing some real work, too,” Dugan said after a moment of silence. “I know you never went to college, but you’ve still got more brains than you give yourself credit for. Some of the other boys are already working on plans of their own. If you added your own two cents to the mix—”

“No.”

The big Alpha frowned at Barnes’ clipped response.

“I’m not saying it all has to be on you.” Dugan leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper. “Jenkins is still here. He’s technically in command. But he sent word down the line that he’s got a few ideas he wants to run past you. I know he needs somebody to run messages to the other men. And with the way they’ve got you pushing that cart around the factory all day, you’re probably just the messenger boy he needs.”

“Not interested,” Barnes said.

“What do you mean you’re not interested?” Dugan shot back a little louder this time. “You’re the one who’s always telling us we’re getting out of here. Suddenly you’ve got something against doing your own part?”

“I am doing my own part. So just drop it.”

“But Jimmy—”

“No!” Barnes lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of the corporal’s shirt in both hands. “You listen to me, and you listen good. If you guys are planning something, you leave me out of it, understand? I don’t want to hear a word about escape or sabotage or any of that shit from any of you. That’s an order. Got it?”

Of all the things for the sergeant to say, Falsworth couldn’t have said he’d ever expected that.

Shock passed over Dugan’s face and a similar confusion touched Jones as well. But eventually the two Americans nodded, and that was enough to send Barnes slinking back to his spot beside the major. As soon as the sergeant leaned back, Dernier settled down close to the man’s other side. An odd look passed over the Frenchman’s face. It held no hint of bewilderment in the least, just a sad sort of understanding that set off a familiar niggling at the back of Falsworth’s mind.

What was it that the major was missing?

As an uncomfortable silence settled over their cage, Falsworth’s brain got to work on the mystery at hand. But try as he might, he couldn’t puzzle it out. At least not on his own. Not through pure observation. But if he added a bit of subtle needling to the mix …

He waited until the rest of his cellmates were asleep before he addressed the sergeant beside him.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly, and Barnes let out a soft sigh.

“Kind of hard to get comfortable with bruised ribs.”

Monty hummed in response. He let the silence settle between them again, but he made no pretense of going to sleep. Sometimes the best way to get a man to open up was simply to close one’s mouth and give him time to speak. He’d learned that lesson long ago, and so far, it still held true to this day.

Minutes passed, but Barnes ultimately broke the silence.

“You know I’m not trying to weasel out of anything, right?”

“No one said you were.”

“I wish to God I could do more, but I just …”

Barnes let out a shaky breath before running a hand over his face. When his arm flopped down beside Falsworth again, the major could feel the heat still burning through his skin.

Slowly, the sergeant turned to face him. Even in the low light of the holding cells, Falsworth could see the exhaustion and the fear as well as something else—determination, perhaps—etched in the younger man’s features.

The man held Falsworth’s gaze for quite some time before looking away.

“In the end, it’s just plain common sense,” Barnes said eventually. “You can’t ask people to trust you when you can’t trust yourself.”

The major’s lips tightened. “You’re unwell.”

Barnes smiled grimly. “That’s one way of putting it. Don’t worry though. It’s not contagious. It’s just not going away either.”

Another beat passed. The sergeant stared down at his lap before eventually turning back to Falsworth.

“Just do me a favor and don’t tell the guys about it, will ya?” A tremor ran through Barnes as he nodded to the other two Yanks. “I don’t want Dum Dum filling his head with any big ideas. The last thing we need is him living up to his name.”

“I don’t know,” Falsworth said. “It could make life rather interesting.”

Barnes just snorted before wincing. “If you want interesting, just stick around. There’ll be plenty of that coming up.”

More silence settled between them. Falsworth waited for Barnes to fill it, but it soon became obvious the American was done talking. Still, the major found it hard to let the subject go. And not just because of his own curiosity.

A week ago, his observations of the man had been nothing but a distraction meant to fill the time. The puzzle he kept trying to solve was no more than a game. But now?

“You do know self-sacrifice isn’t your only option,” Falsworth found himself saying. “Whatever your illness, it can’t be so hopeless.”

Barnes smirked. “Depends on your perspective, I guess.”

The major didn’t know what to make of that. But before he could think of something to say, Barnes beat him to it.

“Look,” the man began, “I know we haven’t exactly known each other that long, but if you don’t mind, I’ve got another favor to ask.”

Falsworth raised an eyebrow.

“When whatever happens … happens, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on these two.” The sergeant nodded towards the other two Yanks again. “Juniper, too, if you can swing it. I know you two work on the line together. It’d make me feel better knowing someone had their backs.”

A weight settled itself deep in Falsworth’s gut.

“If you’re thinking of doing something stupid—” the major began, but Barnes just cut him off with a laugh.

“I’ve already done something stupid. It’s just getting time to pay my due. I just want to make sure nobody else tries to go down with me. That’s all.”

Another silence lingered between the pair. It was heavier this time and only punctuated by the Frenchman’s occasional snore.

After some time, the major finally broke it.

“You do know I don’t share your selflessness.”

Barnes’ eyes widened.

“Selfless? Me?” The sergeant chuckled through a groan. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’re not talking to some saint here. I’m selfish to the core.”

Falsworth let out a rather undignified snort. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want.” Barnes leaned his head back against the bars. “All I know is, it’s a lot harder to focus on your own shit when you’re worried about everybody else’s. Just makes life a little more bearable, I guess.”

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Falsworth murmured as he mulled over the words.

More silence stretched between them yet again.

Part of the major wanted to press the Yank for more information. Perhaps he might be able to figure out what “shit” had led the man to hold such a skewed view of life. But the sergeant’s breathing was already ragged enough. Between his injuries and his exhaustion, he had little left. So Falsworth let him be.

Tomorrow would come, and the night would follow. He’d make it a point to continue this conversation then. But for now, it could wait. They could rest. Nothing would be all that different in the morning.

Or so the major thought.

But within minutes of waking, it became abundantly clear just how wrong he’d been. Because before he could even open his eyes, he heard the growls. He smelled the stench. And as soon as he looked up, he saw his two largest cellmates posturing at the other side of the cage.

How wonderful, Falsworth thought with a grimace

Jones and Dugan had both gone into rut.

Chapter Text

November 1943

It was coming.

James Buchanan Barnes could feel its beginnings all the way down in his core.

The pain. The confusion. The exhaustion. And the heat.

Dear God, could he ever feel the heat.

Sometimes it felt like an inferno was burning him up from the inside out. He didn’t remember it being this bad before. But then again, maybe it’d never come this far. He’d only been fifteen when he first presented. Vaguely, he remembered feeling a similar heat rising up in him then, too. But Sarah had found him so quickly. She’d given a pill, and it had all gone away.

But there were no pills to be had now. There was no one to help him and nowhere to hide, either. All he had was the heat.

His heat.

Fuck.

Ever since he’d found out he’d lost his Bible, Bucky knew there was no getting around it. His scent would emerge. He’d go into heat, and his secret would be out. He thought if he was lucky, he might die on the march to camp. But Junior had needed him. He couldn’t let the dumb kid down. So he’d pressed on. He kept moving forward, and for some reason, he hadn’t stopped.

He still didn’t remember entering the Austrian facility. Dum Dum said they’d climbed a mountain, and as thin as the air was, he believed it, too. Not that their location made much of a difference at the moment. They could be in Germany, Poland, or even France. As long as they were behind enemy lines, it was all the same in the end.

They were fucked through and through.

Still, Bucky knew better than to speak his thoughts aloud. He was still a sergeant, damn it. His men still looked to him for guidance. So he tried his best. He sewed what little hope he could, and he kept the heat off the rest of the guys whenever possible. It was the least he could do. And who knows? Maybe somebody would actually figure a way out of this hell hole after all. It could happen. Bucky hoped to God it would happen. But he also prayed every night that he wouldn’t learn about any such events until long after they were done. And even then, he didn’t want to know who was responsible. He couldn’t risk it.

So when Dugan started mouthing off about Jenkins coming up with some scheme he wanted Barnes in on, Bucky had nearly lost it. He knew Dum Dum had to think he was either crazy or a coward, but what the fuck. If it kept him from being a rat, so be it. Because as soon as Hydra found out what he was, Bucky knew damn well that’s all he’d be. Just a mother-fucking, no good rat.

Bucky cursed his own designation silently.

This is why the army never accepted Omegas. All it would take was one Alpha’s voice to have him spilling everything he knew. Bucky hadn’t wanted to believe that in the beginning. All through basic training, he’d told himself he was strong. He was capable. He wouldn’t be a liability to his men. But ever since reaching Kreischberg, he’d had to face the truth.

James Buchanan Barnes was weak.

His very designation guaranteed it.

Looking back, it felt like a lifetime ago since he’d been sitting in that foxhole in Azzano. He remembered noticing just how much stronger Dugan’s scent had smelled that night. And every day since then it had only gotten worse.

All it took was a whiff, and he felt like he was drowning. After less than a week of their imprisonment had passed, Bucky couldn’t even bear to sit next to Dugan or Jones anymore. Dum Dum hadn’t said anything when the sergeant had started bedding down between Falsworth and the Frenchman, but Barnes could read the confusion and hurt on the man’s face. Still, what else could Bucky do? Every time either one of the Alpha’s moods changed, their scents reflected it. Sometimes Barnes felt like he was choking on the pheromones. And the things they did to his mind …

Don’t think about it, he told himself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fucking fine.

Only it wasn’t.

Not by a long shot.

His body already felt strung out every time he woke up. Rest was never restful when it felt like he had coals smoldering underneath his skin. But as bad as he felt, his symptoms just kept getting worse and worse. Every day was harder than the last. Every step took more out of him. He tried to hide it as best he could, but any second now, he just knew that last dam would break. Fresh slick would pour down his legs. His scent would fill the air. And that would be it. Everything would be over. He’d be exposed. Taken. Mated. Bonded. Probably even bred.

Not if you can get them to shoot you first, a little voice whispered.

And that was an idea, wasn’t it? It wasn’t one that he could say he liked all that much. But still, what other choice did he have?

It’d be suicide, he told himself. Even if you don’t pull the trigger, it’s suicide all the same.

And therein lay the crux.

Bucky couldn’t say what he believed anymore—his faith had always been a fickle thing—but when it came right down to it, he was still a Catholic. And for a Catholic, suicide was a mortal sin. He’d be risking eternal damnation if he tried to end his life on his own. But if he went out for a reason—for some greater purpose—it wouldn’t be suicide at all. It’d be a sacrifice.

He could handle being a sacrifice.

But for what? For whom? And how?

He was still puzzling over the problem when sleep finally overtook him. By the time he woke up again, any thoughts of sacrifice had long since slipped his mind. All he could focus on were the sounds and smells surrounding him. The harsh scents were disorienting enough, but the growling …

Growling?

Bucky’s eyes popped open.

Just a few feet away, Dugan and Jones were squared off against each other. Their faces were contorted, their shoulders hunched. Even in after all their time on the battlefield together, Bucky had never seen Dugan look as wild as he did now. And Jones? He hadn’t known the guy long, but he’d always seemed so level-headed.

Not anymore, though.

Now each Alpha’s lips were pulled back in a snarl so primal they looked more like animals than men. They were just wild beasts getting ready to fight. They’d rip each other apart if someone didn’t stop them soon. But as much as Bucky knew he needed to do something—hell, even just say something—he couldn’t get his body to move. His voice was lodged somewhere deep down in his chest. And if his heart beat any faster, he figured it might damn well explode.

Fucking hell, he’d never been so terrified in all his life.

A tremor slid through his body before he could stop it. A whine pressed against the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. Beside him, Dernier placed a hand on his shoulders. The Beta slid in front of him slowly, subtly while Falsworth leapt to his feet to talk the two Alphas down.

And through it all, Barnes didn’t stop shaking.

He couldn’t.

Everything was just too much. The sights. The sounds. The smells.

Oh fuck, the smells.

If the Alphas’ scents had been bad before, they were at least a hundred times worse now.

Rut, Barnes told himself. They’re both in rut.

Bucky had seen it dozens of times over the years. Every time Steve had gone into rut, their apartment had reeked for days. And after spending nearly a year and a half with the same squad of men—almost half of which happened to be Alphas—he’d had the pleasure of witnessing more ruts than he cared to count.

But this was different.

None of the other guys had become so violent. Their scents had never smelled half as strong. And their presence had never affected Bucky anywhere near this badly.

What the fuck?

Even that time back in basic, when his last pill had worn off early and he’d woken up to find himself caught in pre-heat, it hadn’t been like this. Sure, he’d sent half the guys into rut then, too, but they hadn’t tried to tear each other apart, and he sure as hell hadn’t turned into the quivering mess he was now.

Only because you’d doubled up on your suppressants, a little voice reminded him. They’re what made you strong. But now they’re gone, and you’re weak. Just weak, weak, weak.

He wanted to bash his head into the floor just to make the words stop, but even that wouldn’t make them any less true.

Above him, the growling continued. A hand squeezed his arm, and he bolted up. His eyes darted around, but only the Frenchman sat beside him. A frown marred Dernier’s face. The man’s lips moved, but Barnes couldn’t make out what he said.

“I’m fine,” Bucky mumbled. “Just need to get up. Need to help.”

“Non.”

“But they’re my men.” Barnes shook his head to clear it. “Gotta do something. Gotta … gotta …”

His words drifted and so did his mind.

He thought he heard Falsworth’s voice now. Dugan’s as well. Maybe even Jones’. At some point, the growling had faded. The two Alphas had stopped blasting their scents. Only then could Bucky could think again. He could move again, too. So that’s what he tried to do.

Only the Frenchman wouldn’t let him go.

“Damn it, Frenchie, I said I’m fine,” Bucky grumbled. “Just ease up, will ya?”

But even though Dernier relaxed his grip, the man didn’t back away. Instead, he just leaned in closer.

“You must be careful, James,” the man whispered just loud enough for Bucky to hear.

“What else is new?” Barnes forced a grin, but if anything, Dernier’s expression turned even grimmer.

“They’ll know soon.”

“Know what?” Bucky’s throat tightened.

And that’s when the Frenchman’s attention turned to the floor. With one finger, he slowly traced a single symbol in the dust between their feet, and Barnes’ stomach lurched.

Ω

Bucky’s heart beat so fast he could barely breathe.

He wanted to ask how Dernier knew. What had given him away? His scent hadn’t come in yet. He hadn’t soiled himself with slick. But before he could get out a word, guards appeared at the door to their cell. Rations were handed out. Even Dugan and Jones calmed down enough to eat, so Bucky did the same.

It was only by some miracle that he didn’t throw up.

Eventually though, the guards came back. They were all shuffled from their cells. Dernier helped Bucky to his feet, and they shared one last look before marching to the factory floor.

No one commented on how many times he stumbled along the way.

Throughout the day, he did his work. Or he tried to. Muscle memory carried him through most of his shift. Still, his body was slow, his steps sluggish. And he just felt so fucking hot. The inferno under his skin kept him so exhausted sometimes he barely had enough left in him to breathe, much less move.

No way was he meeting his quota today.

If it hadn’t been for all the distractions plaguing the floor, Bucky knew Lohmer would have probably beaten him to death by now. Their supervisor didn’t tolerate inefficiency. The colonel had made that abundantly clear. But with each passing hour, more and more men started going into rut. Their growls filled the air, and their posturing shattered all productivity. No work could move forward. No progress could be made. And worst of all, no one could be put to blame.

Or so the Germans thought.

By the end of the day, Barnes’ nerves were frazzled, and from the looks of it, Lohmer’s were, too. The red-faced colonel glared as he watched the prisoners march back to their cells. But other than blasting his own scent through the air, the German Alpha did nothing.

At least for now.

When the door to the cage clanged shut behind him, Bucky lost whatever little bit of gas he had left. His knees folded, and he slumped into the bars behind him.

“Christ, Jimmy.”

Dugan rushed forward, and Bucky took a breath. He tried to tell him to stay back. He was fine. He just needed his space. But no words came out. Just a soft moan.

Only through sheer stubbornness was he able to hold back the whine that threatened to follow.

“Non!” A sharp voice caught his attention, and when he opened his eyes again—damn it, when had he closed them?—the Frenchman was standing over him.

Dernier snapped out a few words that Barnes couldn’t follow, and the next thing he knew, Dugan was growling again. Which set off Jones. Which pulled Falsworth into the fray. And before long, all four of his cellmates were either yelling or growling or blasting their scents so strongly all Bucky could manage to do was curl into a ball and pass out.

A pair of fingers against his neck woke him up.

“Still with us, Barnes?” Falsworth asked as Bucky blinked up at him.

There was a smile on the major’s lips that didn’t reach his eyes. Bucky tried to answer, but his tongue felt heavy. His throat was too dry. Instead of words, all he managed was a rasp.

“Here.” Falsworth pressed a cup of water to his lips. “Drink.”

So he did.

More time passed. Dugan’s voice boomed from the other side of the cell. He kept asking if Barnes was alright, kept demanding answers when he didn’t get any.

“Damn it, Limey, either you start talking, or I’m coming over there right now,” the corporal threatened.

“To do what exactly?” Falsworth asked. “In your current state, you’re more of a hindrance than a help, so just stay where you are. The sergeant’s still with us. He just needs a moment to breathe.”

Looking over his shoulder, Monty whispered something to the Frenchman standing guard above them. When Bucky tilted his head, he could just barely see Dum Dum and Gabe crouched down at the other end of the cell. Vaguely, he thought they looked worried.

Why were they worried?

Falsworth placed a hand on Bucky’s forehead, and the sergeant’s attention turned back to the Brit.

“Easy now.” Monty’s voice was calm and even. “You’ve got quite the fever, Barnes. Just need to see what might be causing it.”

Then the major’s hands were drifting down his chest, prodding at his ribs, and pulling at his clothes. Falsworth looked for signs of broken bones and internal bleeding, but there was nothing to be found.

“That’s because he’s been poisoned, I’m telling you,” Dugan half-shouted from across the cell. “We all have. How else you gonna explain half the floor going into rut like this. It ain’t natural.”

Then Dum Dum went into some long rant about how the Germans must be experimenting with chemical warfare again. Maybe pheromone laden shells to replace the mustard gas they’d used before. Either they’d decided to test it out on their prisoners or some had escaped by accident. Whatever the reason, the results were the same.

“And you think pheromones would do this to a Beta?” The major raised an eyebrow.

“Who knows?” Dugan shrugged. “Maybe Jimmy got too close to the source. Could’ve gotten more exposure than everybody else. They’ve always got him pushing weird shit around on that damn cart of his. And you’ve seen how many times he’s dropped his load. You telling me he couldn’t have set something off leaking right there?”

“He does smell different,” Gabe added quietly, and Bucky’s heart sped up.

He hadn’t noticed any scent yet.

Was it already breaking through?

His mind was so frantic he didn’t hear much of what anyone else said. Not until Falsworth’s hands drifted to his neck, at least. Monty was in the middle of shooting down Dum Dum’s latest theory when the major’s fingers drifted underneath the collar of his shirt. He watched the major’s eyes widen as he found the hot, inflamed lumps that were the sergeant’s scent glands.

They shared a long look. Monty’s jaw tightened before he slowly pulled Barnes’ collar back up to hide the swelling.

Neither one said a word.

Eventually rations came. Dernier offered him food, but Bucky pushed it away. The world was spinning too fast to eat, and besides, the other guys could use it more than he could anyway. No sense in forcing something down when it’d just come back up.

So he slept.

Or he tried to.

When morning rations came again, hot bile pressed against the back of his tongue. He vomited. Then he dry-heaved. Two pairs of hands held him up. They were all that kept him from falling into the mess.

In the background, he thought he heard someone cursing.

“Come on, Barnes.” A British voice whispered into his ear. “On your feet. They’ll know for sure if they find you here.”

Know what?

Bucky turned towards the man holding him up, but all he saw was a mustache and a frown. It felt like years before he had a name to go with the face, and by then Monty’s brow was drawn up with worry.

Why?

Was something wrong?

More voices shouted in the background. He couldn’t understand what they were saying—didn’t even think he knew the language—but he moved anyway. He let Falsworth and Dernier lead him out while Dum Dum and Gabe were herded off some other way.

Wait.

That wasn’t right.

Weren’t they supposed to go together?

“They’re fine, Barnes,” Monty whispered under his breath. “Just relax.”

So he did.

The farther he got away from the Alphas, the easier it was to think anyway.

By the time he made it to the factory floor, he could hold a thought in his head for more than ten seconds. It wasn’t much, but at least there was that. He let the two Betas escort him up to his cart, and when they stepped away, he still had enough strength left to stand up on his own—at least, as long as he had something to lean on.

When Dernier finally left, the Frenchman gave Bucky’s arm one last squeeze. Falsworth hung back a moment longer.

“Regarding the favor you asked of me,” the major began. “I’ll watch out for them, Barnes. Dugan, Jones, and the young private, too.”

Bucky nodded slowly. He couldn’t quite remember what Monty was talking about, but he thought it might be important.

In the background, a guard barked at Falsworth to move along.

Still, the major lingered.

“Whatever your choice, I’ll understand,” Monty said slowly. “But just so you know, when Lohmer does shoot, he aims for the head.”

Then Falsworth was gone, and all Barnes had left were the man’s words.

They stayed with him for a long time.

“Move!” Someone shoved him in the back.

So he did.

He pushed his cart. He walked the floor. And he let his feet guide him while his mind drifted to deeper matters.

Suicide or sacrifice.

Which one would it be?

Bucky’s head buzzed, but he fought to keep his mind on track. He’d already lost this train of thought once. He couldn’t afford to lose it again. Not like yesterday. Not when he had so little time left to spare.

Across the floor, Lohmer was standing in the middle of the factory, his pistol securely strapped in its shoulder holster. What would it take to get the man to pull the trigger? And what would happen when he did? Would the colonel give Bucky a quick death, or would he draw it out? There was no way of knowing, but Bucky guessed it wouldn’t matter in the end.

As long as it was the end.

Because if it wasn’t …

“Psst! Sarge!”

A whispered voice came from his right, and when Bucky turned, there was Juniper. The kid was loading boxes onto one of the central pallets.

Junior’s eyes darted from side to side before he leaned in close to his sergeant.

“You’ve gotta keep moving, Bucky,” the kid whispered.

Barnes frowned.

When had he stopped?

“Come on, Sarge. Lohmer’s watching.”

Then the kid gave him a push, and Bucky’s feet started moving again.

Wait.

Why was he moving again?

He could have sworn he’d been thinking about something—something important—but his mind felt like sludge. He couldn’t remember what it was. All he knew was that he was hot and he was tired and he was supposed to be doing something.

What was he doing again?

He glanced back at Juniper, but the Private was no help. All he did was stare back at Bucky with this frown across his face. He looked just as lost as Barnes felt and twice as distracted. Maybe that’s why the pallet he was stacking looked so unstable. Every time the kid placed another box on top, the whole thing swayed.  It wouldn’t be long before it all fell down.

Bucky felt like falling down.

He felt like falling down and curling up and maybe even dying, too. But someone had told him to keep moving, so that’s just what he’d do. Whatever he’d been thinking about before would come back to him later. And if it didn’t, that was okay, too. Something told him it didn’t matter either way. He’d know what to do when the time came. He just had to have faith that, one way or another, everything would work itself out in the end.

Because maybe if he believed hard enough—just once—it actually would.

Chapter Text

November 1943

Dr. Arnim Zola hated interruptions.

Conducting his research was difficult enough with Herr Schmidt constantly pushing up deadlines. Corners has to be cut. Shortcuts taken. And while his study of the Tesseract had yielded enough new technology to satisfy even the Red Skull’s most extraordinary demands, his work at replicating Dr. Erskine’s serum had proven far less fruitful.

How many test subjects had he borrowed from Lohmer already? Twelve? Or would the colonel claim he’d given him thirteen?

The last man he’d received had been so sick the soldier hadn’t even made it out of his cell when Zola’s aids had come to collect him. A weak heart, his assistants claimed. Malnutrition. Pneumonia. There was nothing anyone could have done.

Except give Arnim better stock, of course.

But Zola knew all too well that the colonel wasn’t a generous man. Brutal deadlines and harsh discipline—that’s what Lohmer was known for. It’s why Schmidt had given him his current position. No number of dead bodies would ever be a problem as long as he reached his goal.

But that was just it.

All the colonel cared about was his goal.

As far as Lohmer was concerned, his colleagues could fend for themselves. He’d made that abundantly clear the first time Zola had come to him. No matter how many prisoners the Red Skull took, Lohmer claimed them all for his own workforce. Just cogs in the assembly line, that’s all they were to him. Easily used and even more easily replaced. He cared little for the men who died and even less for those he killed. But if anyone were to ask the man to share his resources …

Arnim sighed.

The last time he’d come down to the factory floor, he had to fight the colonel just to receive a corpse. He could only imagine the reception he’d receive now that he’d come begging for scraps again.

And yet, perhaps today would be different.

Zola’s eyes widened as soon as he saw the chaos that the Austrian factory had become. Growls rumbled through the air. A heavy stench clouded the room. Guards fought to keep the prisoners working, but it was hard when half the Alphas had at least one hand in their pants and the other half were busy trying to kill each other.

Not for the first time in his life, Zola thanked the powers that be for his designation. Betas were so much more civilized than their Alpha and Omega counterparts. A world consisting of only his designation would be so much more efficient.

And hygienic, he reminded himself as his eyes skipped over the countless little messes spilled across the floor. Much, much more hygeinic.

Lohmer was hard at work barking out orders—and threats—when the doctor eventually found him.

“Ah, Colonel.” Arnim dipped his head to hide a smirk as he greeted the man. “Everything is going well, I hope?”

Lohmer scowled, and Zola’s smile only deepened.

“You can damn well see how it’s going,” he snapped. “I have an epidemic on my hands, doctor. So unless you can help, I’d suggest you kindly get off my floor.”

The doctor’s smile wobbled.

There was nothing kindly about the colonel’s eyes now. Along with anger, something else flashed behind them as well. Hunger? Lust? Zola might not be able to decipher scents like Alphas and Omegas could, but based on the stench billowing up from the man—as well as the way he kept adjusting his pants—the doctor would gamble Lohmer was showing the first signs of a rut of his own.

Zola swallowed.

The colonel was already a dangerous man, but his current state made him unpredictable. Irrational, even. One wrong step, and Arnim might very well bear the brunt of the man’s rage. But then again, in chaos there was also opportunity.

Zola licked his lips before speaking.

“Yes, Colonel, I can see you have quite the situation on your hands,” he began. “To have so many men plagued by rut at the same time … The phenomenon is quite extraordinary.”

“A damn nuisance is what it is.” Lohmer growled. “Our quota slipped by forty percent yesterday. We’re moving at an even slower pace today. And why? Because a bunch of mongrel dogs can’t control their own impulses!”

He shouted the last few words loud enough to turn heads, but not much else. Alphas were hard enough to control at the best of times. But when caught in rut, their temperaments were nearly unmanageable.

The colonel, himself, was a prime example of that.

“I see you’ve tried chaining them to their work stations.” The doctor gestured to the shackles on many of the men’s feet. “An interesting solution, though it doesn’t quite solve the problem at hand.”

“And I suppose you have a better idea?”  

Zola forced a smile. “There is only one answer to your problem, Colonel. And that is to remove the catalyst at the heart of this reaction.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lohmer frowned.

“Why surely, Colonel, you don’t think this is a natural event. For so many Alphas to go into rut simultaneously, there must be something triggering the men. Pheromones? Radiation? A chemical contaminant, perhaps? Whatever the culprit, once that catalyst is found and eliminated, then, sir, your men will recover and order may be restored.”

Lohmer considered the doctor’s words.

“And to find this catalyst,” the colonel began, “how do you propose I do that?”

Arnim’s smile deepened.

“I suppose I could send a few of my assistants to investigate.” The doctor shrugged. “Though I do have projects of my own, and my resources are already stretched so terribly thin …”

“What do you want?” Lohmer narrowed his eyes.

“Test subjects,” Zola said quickly, but the colonel shook his head.

“I’m behind as it is. I can’t afford to lose more men.”

“Then I can’t afford to help you.” The doctor held his ground.

Lohmer’s growls added to the general rumble of the floor.

“Fine,” he eventually snapped. “You can have one. I can’t spare any more than that.”

Then he pointed to a pathetic, hunched-over figure slowly pushing a cart.

“Consider that one yours,” he said. “I can’t get any decent work out of him anyway. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Zola frowned.

“The man hardly looks like he’ll survive a trip to my lab, much less any treatments.”

“And how is that my problem, doctor?”

Zola could only blink at the colonel’s rudeness.

“You can take what I give you or you can find your guinea pigs somewhere else,” Lohmer snapped. “Is that understood?”

A retort was already on Arnim’s tongue when a crash echoed across the floor. Zola looked up. He expected the sickly soldier to be the source of the disturbance, but instead he saw a much smaller and younger American standing in the midst of a pile of scattered fuel cells.

Blue light spilled across the floor, and Lohmer snarled.

“Clumsy fool.” The colonel’s tone was sharp enough to make even Zola back away. “I’ll show you how the Reich deals with incompetence.”

Then Lohmer stormed off, his cane gripped in his right hand like a club and his feet carrying him straight towards the unfortunate private. Zola actually found himself feeling sorry for the boy.

Such a waste, he thought.

The doctor was no stranger to death. He’d watched scores of his own test subjects die over the years. But at least none of them had died in vain. Their deaths had meaning. Every life lost yielded invaluable knowledge, and every man who died was merely a casualty in the pursuit of science. That’s what Zola believed, and that’s what kept him going from one day to the next.

Especially now.

Only by chance did Arnim catch movement at the edge of his vision. Glancing up, he noticed Johann Schmidt looking down from the walkway above. The Red Skull’s eyes followed Lohmer across the floor, but he didn’t intervene. He wouldn’t.

Order only comes through pain, Arnim thought.

He’d heard Schmidt recite those words on more than one occasion. Lohmer, too. And though the doctor saw no cause for pain in and of itself, he did believe in order. He had to. He’d chosen his side, and his party demanded it.

“Hail Hydra.” He said the words as much to convince himself as to convince others.

Then he watched, and he waited.

If he was lucky, perhaps the boy wouldn’t die. Perhaps he could leave with two new test subjects today instead of just one. Certainly, that would be a better use of resources. Even Lohmer would have to agree with him there.

But from the looks of it, the colonel was far past such rational thought.

At least for now.

Arnim’s heart thundered as he found himself following in Lohmer’s wake.

Already the colonel had covered over half the distance to his prey. His strides were long. His snarls were loud. Even as far back as he was, Arnim could still see every last bit of terror lighting up the hapless boy’s face as the Alpha moved in. The American—a private from the looks of it—stumbled backwards only to slip on the fuel cells scattered around his feet. He fell hard, landing on his back, and the poor boy barely had time to lift an arm before the colonel was upon him, his cane lifted high and his chest heaving as he reared back for the killing blow.

Zola frowned.

So much for preserving resources.

In barely a second it would be over. The boy’s head would be bashed to pieces. Another soldier would be dead. Another chance to perfect his serum would be gone. And for what? This waste, this barbarism, this—

Arnim blinked.

This surprise.

Just before Lohmer could complete his swing, a familiar cart barreled into the colonel from behind. Zola’s eyes widened as Lohmer crashed to the floor, and the entire factory went silent. No one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe. All eyes just watched as the colonel scrambled to his feet and demanded answers.

But only one man spoke up.

“Sorry.” The soldier Lohmer had promised Zola earlier flashed a tired grin as he stood panting for breath just a few feet to Arnim’s right. “Must’ve lost my grip.”

And that was all the colonel needed to hear before he threw himself at his newest target.

“Colonel, please!” Zola cried out as the man broke his cane across the soldier’s back. “Remember our deal.”

But Lohmer didn’t even pause to acknowledge him. He just kept swinging his broken stub of a stick over and over and over again until the American was flat on the ground. Blood covered the left side of the man’s face. More welled up every time the jagged wood caught his flesh. And through it all, the colonel just kept snarling out curses while the entire floor broke into an uproar so loud Zola could barely even hear his own thoughts.

How could Lohmer not notice the riot that was brewing around him?

And even worse than that, how could Schmidt still refuse to step in?

Zola shot a beseeching glance in the Red Skull’s direction, but Schmidt just stared back with bored indifference. Already guards were moving in. Rifles were poised. Warning shots were fired. But still, their prisoners refused to back down. Alphas pulled at their chains while Betas shouted out threats and curses of their own.

Just who was this man that his impending death could inspire such outrage?

And how careless would Zola be if he let such a specimen as that slip through his fingers?

Zola’s stomach tightened.

Like it or not, as much as he wanted to intervene, he knew better. Only a fool would step between an Alpha and his prey. And given that the Alpha in question was none other than Colonel Lohmer himself …

Arnim shivered.

There’s still the boy, he told himself. But when he looked back, another figure was quickly pulling the American to his feet.

Is that a British officer? Zola frowned as he took in the man’s uniform. So much for the colonel’s plan to sew discontent amongst his populace. If a British major was willing to risk his life to pull an American private out of harm’s way, Lohmer’s judgment had certainly been flawed. There was no telling what other alliances had been forged just as there was no telling how dangerous their prisoners’ discontent could be.

And still the colonel couldn’t recognize their peril.

“Please,” Zola turned back to Lohmer just as the colonel pulled out his pistol. Around them, the prisoners’ outrage grew. “You must stop this, Colonel. Can you not see the danger we’re in?”

“The only one in danger here is this piece of vermin.”

Lohmer grabbed the soldier by the front of his shirt and jerked the man up to his knees. Clouded blue eyes tracked the colonel slowly, but not once did the American try to fight back. If anything, Zola thought he caught a spark or relief light up the soldier’s face as soon as his gaze settled upon the gun.

Before Zola could even blink, Lohmer shoved the barrel against the man’s temple. Around them, the other prisoners’ rage was deafening.

“Kill him, and you will kill us as well.” Arnim prayed the colonel would listen to reason. “Look around you. Your prisoners are out of control. If a riot breaks out—”

“Enough!” Lohmer snapped.

“But Colonel—”

“I said enough!” Lohmer shouted in his deepest Alpha voice—not that it would do any good against a Beta like Arnim—but before Zola could say as much, the soldier in Lohmer’s grasp let out a choked gasp. A violent spasm jolted through the American’s body, and fresh moisture stained the back of his pants. Zola thought at first that the man must have soiled himself, but the smell was too strong, too sweet, too—

“Omega.” Lohmer’s voice broke through Arnim’s musings, and all Zola could do was blink.

“Are … are you sure?’

But the truth of the matter was so clear now, Arnim could hardly believe no one had seen it before.

Of course, an Omega had to be the cause of their recent problems. No other explanation made sense. The man’s preheat pheromones could have easily sent any number of nearby Alphas into rut. And given the close quarters within which the prisoners were kept, there was no questioning that a single Omega’s heat could lead to their current epidemic. All Zola had to do was take one look at the leer etched across Lohmer’s face to see the proof of that for himself.

But still, how could an Omega have ended up here without anyone noticing? Were the Americans so desperate for recruits they’d stoop to sending their most lowly of designations out into the field or had this soldier deceived even his own government?

Arnim’s heart sped up at that last thought.

An Omega that could pass himself off as a Beta. That idea alone was ludicrous, and yet this man had convinced them all that he wasn’t just any Beta, but rather, a soldier. A battle-tested soldier. One that had not only survived the massacre at Azanno, but had also managed to endure day after day of forced marches through harsh terrain followed by at least a week of hard labor under the colonel’s watchful eye.

And all while the man’s body was preparing itself for heat.

Before this, Zola had always considered Omegas the most fragile members of their species. But if this one specimen could endure all that he had and still have enough left within him to stand up to an Alpha like Lohmer, then perhaps Omegas—or at least, male Omegas—were tougher than he thought.

Maybe even tough enough to survive the treatments necessary to test his serum.

Arnim was just about to bring that point up when the man in Lohmer’s grasp chose that moment to make a lunge for the colonel’s revolver.

“Watch out!” Zola shouted, but he needn’t have bothered.

All it took was a quick command in Lohmer’s Alpha voice to make the Omega’s hand freeze in midair. A flash of terror lit up the soldier’s face, but as soon as Lohmer grabbed the Omega by the nape, even that was gone. In an instant, the American’s eyes rolled back and his body went slack. Zola had always heard Alphas had ways of making an Omega submit in an instant, but until now, he’d never appreciated that power … or its implications for his research.

“Is there a problem, Colonel?” Schmidt called down from above, and Lohmer just laughed.

“On the contrary, Herr Schmidt, I’ve just found the source of all our problems.” He gestured to the semi-conscious American with his pistol. “An Omega!” He sniffed the air. “And one just entering heat from the smell of it.”

By now, the scent must have spread across the floor, because the prisoners’ previous unrest had given way to shock. Most of the Betas just glanced around in confusion while many of their Alpha counterparts growled all the more deeply as they strained against their bonds.

Not that Lohmer noticed.

No, based upon the hunger in his eyes, the colonel had little interest in anything other than the man he was still holding up by the back of the neck.

“As always, Herr Schmidt, you have the right to claim this one first,” Lohmer said, even though the words obviously seemed to displease him. “But if you’re not interested, I think he might make a fine treat for the men. Few have had the chance to bed an Omega—especially a male such as this one—and the novelty might be good for morale.”

“And you make this plea only on behalf of your men, Colonel? Not for yourself?” Schmidt asked, and Lohmer’s smile deepened as he bowed his head.

“I’m in no need of a mate. But if this man requires aid to help him through his heat, who am I to deny even an American such a small mercy?”

The Red Skull chuckled as he shook his head.

“Very well, Colonel,” Schmidt said. “Your request is granted. Do with the Omega as you see fit.”

And though Zola was grateful none of the other prisoners could understand the exchange—thank God Lohmer and Schmidt had kept their conversation safely in German—his heart thundered as he thought about the opportunity he was about to lose if he didn’t speak up right now.

“Excuse me, Colonel,” Arnim butted in. “But I believe you already promised that man to me.”

And with those few words, Lohmer’s smile dissolved completely.

“And what could a Beta like you want with an Omega?”

“The same thing I’ve always wanted,” Zola answered. “A new test subject. I’ve had no luck with Alphas and Betas thus far. But an Omega? Ah, that might be just what my research needs. Wouldn’t you agree, Herr Schmidt?”

At Zola’s appeal, Lohmer immediately threw his own case before the Red Skull as well. Arnim knew he was treading on dangerous ground. He couldn’t afford to make an enemy out of the colonel. But if he let this opportunity slip past him …

“That’s enough, gentlemen,” Schmidt interrupted when it was clear he had tired of their arguments. “You are both adults. I suggest you find a way to share your prize, or else I’ll put a bullet in its head myself just to rid us all of the distraction.”

“But Herr Schmidt—” Zola began, only to be cut off just as quickly.

“I have spoken, doctor,” the Red Skull said simply, and then he strode away without another word.

So much for Hydra valuing work over pleasure.

To his left, Arnim heard Lohmer ordering two of his men to drag the Omega away. The colonel would see to the American shortly. The rest of the men could draw lots for the turns to follow.

“Only as long as they don’t mark him,” Zola interjected. “I need an unclaimed Omega for my research, Colonel. Not a contaminated specimen.”

And that just made the Alpha smirk.

“Don’t worry, doctor. None of Hydra’s Alphas would ever take a dog for a mate. But as for contamination? Well, I suppose your definition must differ from mine.”

And with a snap of his fingers, the two guards dragged the Omega away while Zola trailed close behind.

Around them, the rest of the prisoners stared on. Some in shock. Others in rage. A particularly vocal Alpha in a bowler hat shouted obscenity laden threats as they passed by, but Arnim had little time to dwell on such vulgarities. He had plans to make and a lab to prepare.

The Omega would have to be tested first. Baselines would need to be drawn. Blood collected and samples taken both now and after each round of serum. And of course, he’d have to add extra time between treatments just to account for all of the added attention his latest test subject would be receiving from Lohmer and his men.

That thought alone made Zola grimace.

He’d have to insist they keep the Omega in his lab. Anywhere else would be too much of a risk. And even then, he’d need to take precautions to make sure no one claimed the creature. He could ask Lohmer and his men to wear a bite guard perhaps. Or better yet, he could just collar the Omega and be done with it. Anything to ensure he didn’t have any further variables thrown into his work. Using an Omega in heat would alter his research more than enough. But a bonded Omega? The resultant hormonal swings could be devastating.

“How anyone expects me to work under these conditions is beyond me,” he groused as he directed Lohmer’s men towards the isolation ward on the floor above. “Unrealistic deadlines. Incompetent help. And now this?”

He was still muttering even as the guards dropped their charge in the center of an empty lab room.

“Tell the colonel he can render his ‘aid’ in here,” Zola told the waiting men. “But only after my assistants have collected all the necessary samples first.”

And then Arnim glanced down at the man on the floor. The Omega was still conscious—barely. But even though he didn’t have the strength to roll over, the American could still track Zola with his eyes as the doctor knelt down beside him.

“And as for you, soldier,” Zola began, “I have big plans for you. Very big plans. So don’t even consider dying on me. I promise you won’t like the consequences if you do.”

And then Arnim stood up. He left the room and closed the door. He had work to do. Lohmer would be here soon. Then others would follow. He scowled just thinking about the contamination that would bring, but though the situation was far from ideal, he could make it work.

He had to make it work.

When it came to replicating Erskine’s serum, he’d failed the Red Skull far too often already. He needed results, and this one Omega might be his best chance of getting them. Otherwise, Schmidt might see his previous setbacks as failures. He might forget all the advancements in weaponry he’d achieved and focus instead on this one riddle the doctor still hadn’t managed to solve. And if the Red Skull’s patience wore too thin …

Zola shivered.

“Hail Hydra,” he said to himself. “Hail Hydra.”

Maybe if he repeated it enough times, he wouldn’t still wonder if he’d picked the right side.

Chapter Text

November 1943

Falsworth couldn’t say how he made it through the rest of his shift, but he did.

Somehow.

The factory had been a powder keg all day. Shock and anger. Disgust and horror. In the wake of Barnes’ departure, the rest of the prisoners’ emotions had run the gamut. Some made threats while others stayed silent. Some vowed retribution while others just shook their heads. But in the end, they all went back to their work and they all ended the day in their cells.

And Falsworth was no different.

The major took a deep breath as the bars closed behind him.

It was funny, really, how united they’d all been when everyone thought Barnes was a Beta. Nearly the whole floor was ready to riot at just the threat of his demise. But once the man’s true designation had been exposed ….

Falsworth shook his head in disgust.

No matter how long he lived, he didn’t think human nature would ever cease to disappoint him.

It wasn’t that bigotry suddenly took root in the masses. The major had heard a few snide comments here and there, certainly. But for the most part, everyone was still too stunned to say much at all. It was only later in the day, once the shock had finally begun to wear off, that many of the prisoners’ thoughts turned not to the fate of the man who’d been taken, but instead to the peril of those left behind.

“How much does he know?” at least a dozen different voices must have asked Falsworth that afternoon. “Did anybody tell him about our plans? What about names? Who’s gotta worry about getting ratted out next?”

Because the sad fact was, in the end, that’s all any man ever cared about.

Just himself.

“It ain’t even that I think he’s a bad guy,” some American medic had confided to Falsworth during the march back to their cells. “But he’s an Omega, you know. And once those German bastards use the Voice on him …”

Nothing more had to be said after that, because as loathe as the major was to admit it, the medic did have a point.

All an Alpha needed to do was use his Voice, and any Omega would be helpless against it. Barnes could be made to do anything, say anything, disclose anything. There was no denying the man was a liability. Every soldier serving in the armed forces understood this implicitly, which was perhaps the greatest reason why Omegas were never allowed to serve.

And yet, even though Falsworth could see the logic behind everyone else’s concern, there was just something about the sheer self-centeredness of their thoughts that sickened him.

It’s only because they remind you of the flaws in yourself, his rational side spoke up. Not that long ago, you were more concerned about dealing with the potential stench of a dead body rather than offering help to your fellow man. And if that isn’t just the epitome of egocentric thinking, I don’t know what is.

And that was true.

Very true.

But it was also true that, since then, much had changed.

Falsworth had changed.

The major couldn’t exactly say what had done it, but sometime between that night when the three Yanks had entered his cell and this morning when he and Dernier had practically carried Barnes onto the factory floor, Falsworth’s outlook had shifted. His purpose had returned.

And once it did, only then did he realize how empty he’d been without it.

“I’ll watch out for them,” he’d promised Barnes that morning. And he swore to himself that he would. Not that he quite knew how he’d manage it, but still, he’d protect the three Yanks he’d been tasked with or he’d die trying. It was as simple as that.

Though, from the looks of it, one of them was determined to make his job just as difficult as possible.

Across the cell, Dugan was already bellowing through the bars. He pounded his fists against the cage as he screamed at any guard that would listen, demanding they give back Barnes and vowing vengeance on any that so much as touched him.

Falsworth shared a look with Dernier.

Better to let the corporal get out a bit more of that aggression before attempting to calm him down. From the expression on Jones’ face, the private obviously felt the same. Only their newest guest seemed ready to object.

“Dum Dum?” Private Juniper took a tentative step forward. “Look, I … I know you think you’re helping, but—”

“What?” Dugan whirled on the Beta, his voice still booming. “But what, Junior? What?”

Within seconds, the two Yanks were nose-to-nose. And as loathe as Falsworth was to place himself within range of an enraged Alpha, he did have a promise to keep.

And whether they knew it or not, both men were a part of it.

“Do try not to rip off the lad’s head just yet.” Falsworth made sure to keep his voice calm as he subtly nudged Juniper behind him. “I did go to a rather lot of trouble just to bring him back with me tonight, so I’d hate to see all that hard work go to waste.”

Dugan’s eyes narrowed, but at least the big Alpha still had enough rationality left to control himself.

“Yeah, I saw all the trouble you went to.” The corporal sneered. “You were what? Ten feet away from that Kraut bastard? And you couldn’t have at least tried to stop him from beating Jimmy senseless?”

“Not and still get the young private to safety.” Falsworth remained calm.

“Oh, and since when did taking care of Junior here suddenly become your life’s mission?”

“Since Barnes asked it of me,” Falsworth answered, and with those five words, the big Alpha drew up short.

“Sounds like you know more than you’ve been sharing with the rest of us,” Jones’ voice eventually cut in. “Might be best if you started opening up right about now.”

From the rumbling undertones of the private’s words, Falsworth thought that might be best indeed. And though Barnes had never once asked for his silence on the matter, the major did hope he wasn’t betraying the sergeant as he relayed everything he knew, all the way from his and the Omega’s first late-night conversation to discovering the man’s swollen scent glands the night before.

“So you knew?” Dugan snarled at the major again. “You knew what he was, and you still let him walk out of here just like … like that?”

“What else could I do?” Falsworth calmly wiped away the spittle that had hit him in the face during the corporal’s rant. “If he didn’t arrive to his work detail, the guards would have come and discovered his condition all the more quickly. As it stood, by arriving as usual, he at least had a chance.”

“Oh yeah? A chance of what? Getting fucked by a few dozen Alphas right there on the factory floor?”

“Either that,” Falsworth said slowly, “or else ending it before it all began.”

And at that, the corporal’s eyes narrowed even further. “Jimmy ain’t no damn suicide case.”

“Non.” The Frenchman spoke up for the first time. “Though for his own sake, perhaps we might wish that he was.”

“Wish he … what?” Dugan let loose a volley of curses. “I can’t believe you guys are talking like this. The man’s our fucking friend, and right now those Kraut bastards are doing God-knows-what to him.”

“We all know what they’re doing to him, Dum Dum,” Gabe said quietly, and that just made the corporal curse even more.

In a past life, Falsworth thought such excessive vulgarity might have upset him. Given the situation, however, he couldn’t help but feel the words were nowhere near enough.

“I just don’t get how it even happened.” Juniper’s voice dragged the major out of his musings. “Omegas aren’t even supposed to be in the Army. Why’d he have to lie like that? Why’d he have to come out here?”

“Why’d he have to save your ass over and over again?” Dugan finished. “There ain’t no telling why Jimmy does half the shit he does, but you just gotta trust the guy’s got his reasons. As for the how …” The corporal shook his head. “Best I can figure, he must have gotten a hold of some suppressants somewhere. That’s the only thing I know of that can stop an Omega’s heat. Right?”

Falsworth nodded. Though as to where or how Barnes got such drugs, the major couldn’t begin to fathom. As Jones was quick to point out, such medication wasn’t easy to come by, not even in America. And as for smuggling said contraband onto an Army base, even the smallest of bottles couldn’t have remained hidden for long.

“Unless he did not use a bottle,” Dernier pointed out. “Perhaps he had something else. It would have to be small, something easy to carry and keep close but which no one would ever question.”

“And something he obviously doesn’t have now,” Falsworth added.

“Like that cuts it down by much,” Jones muttered, and the major nodded in agreement.

Other than the clothes on their backs, none of the POWs had been allowed any outside possessions inside the prison. Even the corporal’s bowler hat had been a source of contention, though their guards had obviously thought the fight not worth the prize. So as to what Barnes might have lost ….

“Hell, Jimmy never had much of shit to begin with anyway,” Dugan said. “And what little bit he did have, he sure never seemed to give much of a damn about it. Only thing I ever saw him get possessive over was that fucking ….”

The corporal’s eyes widened.

“Dum Dum?” Juniper asked, but the big Alpha just shook his head, his gaze still distant, his mind obviously working.

“That was it. That had to be it,” Dugan said more to himself than anyone else. “That Bible of his—he never let the da—” The corporal swallowed back a curse. “—darn thing out of his sight. Not until Azzano anyway.” Dugan grimaced. “I always thought it was funny. I mean, Jimmy wasn’t exactly the religious type. But if he did want to keep something hidden, ain’t nobody gonna question a guy carrying that.”

Falsworth nodded. The theory did make sense. Not that it mattered much at present. No matter where Barnes had been hiding his suppressants, the fact remained that they were gone and so was he.

Still, their conjecture had been enough to calm the corporal’s temper—even if only slightly. Though, from the look on his compatriot’s face, the conversation had the opposite effect on the young private.

“All right there, Juniper?” the major asked, and the young man just swallowed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I …” He took a deep breath, and his whole body shook. “I just didn’t know about the Bible, that’s all. If he woulda just told me …. I mean, I didn’t know. And I never meant … Oh, God, I never meant ….”

But whatever the young private was trying to say was lost as his corporal started braying about riots and rescue plans and retribution.

As if any such plans would ever come to pass.

Still, part of Falsworth wished he could join the big Alpha in his delusions. But someone here had to be pragmatic. And the major had promised Barnes that he’d watch out for the man’s friends. So after letting the corporal wear himself out with his ranting, Falsworth moved in with the pure and honest logic.

“As much as we would all like nothing better than to stage a rescue, the fact remains that none of us can,” he said. “And even if we could, odds are that by now our friend has already been claimed. And as an Alpha, you should know better than most just what that means for an Omega.”

Once again, Dugan snarled, but he didn’t contend the point. He couldn’t. No one could.

Or so the major thought.

“Actually,” Jones spoke up quietly, “I’m not so sure getting bonded is the biggest thing Sarge has to worry about right now.”

And then the private told them all about what he’d heard Lohmer and the doctor say.

“A test subject?” Dugan shook his head. “What the fuck, Gabe? You sure you heard right?”

“Wish I hadn’t.” Jones let out a sigh. “But those two weren’t exactly quiet. Guess they figured they could yell out whatever they wanted as long as they kept it to German. Not like much of anybody could understand them anyway.”

“Or do much about it if they did,” Falsworth added.

This entire situation was getting worse and worse by the second.

“This just goes and proves that we’ve gotta do something, and we’ve gotta do it now,” Dugan argued. “If we stage a riot—”

“Over half the prisoners will be killed within minutes.” Falsworth cut off that line of thinking. “The guards are already hyper vigilant, and we’re unarmed. I’m sure you’ve seen what their firepower is capable of on the battlefield. Now imagine facing such an onslaught with no weaponry of your own.”

“So you’re saying we just do nothing?”

“No, corporal, right now I’m saying we think. Strategize. If you want to be of any help to your sergeant, first we need a solid plan.”

And though it seemed to take an eternity to change the corporal’s mind, eventually the big Alpha conceded to Falsworth’s line of thinking.

For now.

Through the night, not much else was said. Juniper’s presence might have filled the physical space in their cell, but Barnes’ absence was all the more notable for it. On several occasions, Falsworth caught the young private muttering to himself “I didn’t know—I swear I didn’t know” and “Why’d he have to do that anyway?” until eventually the man’s mutterings gave way to muffled snores. Not long after, Jones and then Dernier fell asleep, as well. Only Dugan’s eyes refused to close. The big Alpha’s gaze remained rooted to the doors leading out of the cell block. And with each guard that passed through them, a deep growl rumbled through the corporal’s chest.

Falsworth had no doubt that when it came to keeping his word, he’d certainly have his work cut out for him with this one. He just prayed that Juniper and Jones would be easier to handle. And while he was at it, he prayed for Barnes as well.

He could only hope the Almighty was listening.

By the next morning, the day began as any other. Those Alphas still in rut were chained to their stations while the Betas were free to mill about the floor. If not for the growing agitation swirling through their ranks, the major might have thought the day was proceeding the same as any other. But all it took was a quick word with Jones to find out just how wrong he was.

“It’s on all of them,” the dark-skinned Alpha had muttered just as Falsworth stacked a fresh pallet next to the private’s station. “I can smell Barnes’ scent on every last one of those Hydra mother-fuckers. They all reek of it.”

And that somber note followed Falsworth throughout the rest of his day.

The enormity of it hung over them all.

Another night came followed by another day. The cycle continued again and again and again. And through it all, nothing changed.

“How the hell is this still happening?” Dugan ranted on the sixth night after Barnes had been taken. “What the hell are those fuckers doing to him?”

“You know what they’re doing,” Jones answered softly, and the corporal snapped back that of course he knew what the fuck they were doing. He just couldn’t figure out the how of it.

“It’s been six damn days,” Dugan groused. “And those Kraut bastards are still walking around in Jimmy’s scent every time we see them. How the fuck is his heat not over by now?”

“Maybe it is,” Juniper piped up from his spot beside Falsworth. Ever since that fateful day in the factory, the young private had taken to following the major around like a puppy. “Maybe you’re just smelling some leftover scent and it’s all over and Sarge is okay and—”

And Dugan cursed the lad for a fool before he could even finish his thought.

“Look, I know you’re not an Alpha.” Jones tried to spare Juniper’s feelings. “But trust me, if you were, you could tell the difference between a fresh scent and an old one. And every time we’ve caught one of those bastards carrying Sarge’s scent, it’s been fresh and it’s smelled like heat.”

“But how’s that even possible?” Juniper asked. “I thought an Omega’s heat only lasted three days. Maybe five days tops.”

“They do,” Dugan snapped. “Which means that little fucker of a doctor must be doing something to draw it out. Hell, heats are hard enough on an Omega as it is. How the hell Jimmy’s still alive, I can’t even imagine. But as soon as I get my hands on one of those shit-eating, Hydra mother fuckers, I swear to God, I’ll—”

“You’ll what, prisoner?”

Falsworth’s head snapped up towards the voice, and when he looked above him, there stood Lohmer peering down at them through the bars above their cell.

“Why you no-good, Nazi bastard, as soon as I get out of here—” Dugan began, but Falsworth was already urging him to shut up. Dernier and Jones tried their best to do the same. But in the end, none of them need have bothered. It was obvious Lohmer was in far too good of a mood to take the corporal’s threats seriously.

“I must say, I can understand your attachment to your sergeant now. The American might have made a poor worker, but he’s more than proven his worth when it comes to lifting staff morale.”

Dugan cursed the colonel again, but Lohmer’s smile only grew.

“Oh, you Americans and your empty words.” The German Alpha shook his head as he chuckled. “You make so many promises, but you keep so few. Well, here’s a vow that you can take to heart. As long as the Omega’s heat continues, I’ve sworn to share him with the rest of my men. But once he’s done, I intend to see him put to a much better use. After all, our country is in need of more men, and if the stories are true, a male Omega such as this one should have no problem yielding many litters of strong, German Alphas. He’ll be a boon to our nation. And who knows? Perhaps I’ll even take a turn breeding him myself.”

Dugan’s curses were so loud, they rang through the entire cell block. But all Lohmer did was stare down in amusement before slowly walking away. Even after the colonel was gone, the corporal still threatened vengeance. But while Dugan’s threats rattled against the walls, Falsworth kept his own thoughts solely to himself.

At least until he’d worked out all the details.

It took hours, but by morning he’d already come up with a solid plan. All they needed to do was stage an accident. If they got rid of Lohmer—preferably permanently—then perhaps they could spare Barnes from the dire fate the German Alpha had planned.

Of course, that would mean putting the sergeant at the mercy of science—which was one reason the major had never initiated such a plan to begin with. Better to have the doctor and the colonel at war with one another rather than focused solely on the Omega in their care. Perhaps then, Falsworth had thought, Barnes might have been spared the full brunt of either one’s debauchery.

But while the major still had no idea what the Hydra doctor intended to do, he did know that if it came between being an experiment or breeding stock, Falsworth had to think that Barnes would rather have a needle in his vein than a litter in his womb any day. Otherwise, why bother hiding his designation at all?

And besides, the major reasoned, if someone didn’t come up with a way to rid themselves of Lohmer once and for all, Falsworth had no doubt that Dugan eventually would. And though the major couldn’t say he’d mind seeing the corporal make good on any one of his many colorful threats, he somehow doubted the big Alpha had enough cunning to both stage a murder and get away with it undetected.

As fortune would have it, though, the same couldn’t be said for Falsworth.

Or so he hoped.

Once he presented his plan, it didn’t take much to convince his cellmates to take part. Dugan’s only complaint was that the Hydra bastard wouldn’t suffer more. But by the time they’d all finished their morning rations, they each headed to the floor armed with a new purpose. And as luck would have it, every last one of them executed their roles flawlessly.

All it took was a little petty theft, some sleight of hand, a quick diversion here, a little misdirection there, and by 3:00 pm the chains holding back nearly half a ton of heavy metal snapped under the stress, and an avalanche of stainless steel plummeted onto the very spot where Lohmer was standing during his routine mid-afternoon watch.

By the time the colonel was eventually unearthed from the mess, his body was so broken it was barely even recognizable as human. An inquiry was started, of course. But with no solid proof of sabotage, their wardens had no one to blame. Still, rations were cut in half as a warning against any further such attempts. But from the smile on Dugan’s face, Falsworth would say they all found that a rather small price to pay indeed.

“You think maybe they’ll send Sarge back out to us now that Lohmer’s gone?” Juniper asked later that night, and before anyone else could speak, the corporal barked out a quick “Hell, yeah!” in reply.

“As far behind schedule as those Kraut assholes keep saying we are, they need all the help with production they can get,” Dugan went on. “And without that bastard Lohmer looking to fuck him over, it wouldn’t surprise me none if they send Jimmy back out here right away.”

Half of Falsworth wanted to curb the Yanks’ expectations, but the other half didn’t have the heart. The major still hadn’t forgotten the doctor’s role in this production. And though he hadn’t been able to understand any of what the stout German had been saying at the time, Falsworth would never forget the look of hunger in the older man’s eyes when he’d first discovered the Sergeant’s true designation.

Clearly, the doctor’s interest in Barnes had been every bit as keen as Lohmer’s. And with the colonel no longer in the picture, Falsworth had no doubt the scientist would capitalize on his superior’s demise. As for what that meant for Barnes ….

“Things’ll get better now,” Juniper said—though as to whether he was speaking to the others or only to himself, the major couldn’t tell. “Just wait and see. Things always get better when you do something. And that’s what we did. We helped out. We did the right thing. So that … that has to count for something. Right?”

For whatever reason, the private’s eyes turned to Falsworth, and all the major could do was blink.

What did the lad expect him to say?

Of course, they’d tried. Of course, they took action. And of course, they’d meant only for the best. But in the end, everything they’d done had amounted to just one thing and one thing alone.

Good intentions.

And Falsworth knew all too well that just meaning to do good was by no means the same as actually doing it. But still, it was late. They were tired. And life had been far too dreadful for far too long. So instead of sharing his doubts, the major just nodded.

“Of course,” he told Juniper. “Now get some sleep. The world will look better in the morning.”

And he dearly hoped it would. For all of their sakes.

But most especially of all, for Barnes’.

Chapter Text

November 1943

Jim Morita’s luck had always been shit.

Every time he gambled, he lost. Didn’t matter if it was cards or dice, they both hated his touch. And when it came to picking winners—whether it be at the racetrack or in the stock market—he always knew whichever bet he placed, it was bound to lose. That’s just how his life went. He was used to tough luck and hard times. So when his squad got captured by the Germans, he didn’t shit his pants like some of the other boys in his unit. He just turned his eyes up to heaven and muttered a quick “What else you got?” before following his captors into prison.

He should have known better than to tempt fate like that.

Because as much as Jim hated his luck, he wasn’t surprised by it. And the way he figured it, that alone gave him an advantage over all the other shitheads around him. Because while all those other guys with their lucky breaks and picture-perfect lives would sit around crying and complaining over every little jab life threw their way, Jim knew how to tuck his chin and roll with the punches.

So what if he couldn’t afford to go to college? The Army would always take him.

So what if his fiancé broke it off the night before he shipped out? He’d find another dame when he got back.

So what if he got locked up in some German labor camp? He’d keep his head down for now then do whatever it took to take out as many of those rat bastards as he could as soon as he got the chance.

Not that he ever expected to get that kind of a chance. Once again, his luck was shit. But if he did get out, he’d make it his life’s mission to wipe out every last one of these Hydra fucks. Extermination was the least they deserved. Especially after everything they’d done. Not to mention all the shit they’d made Jim do.

And dear God, the shit they’d made him do …

Jim’s hands shook as he sorted the laundry. For whatever reason, those German motherfuckers thought the best job for him was washing their clothes. Like he’d grown up working in a Chinese laundromat or something. His parents had come over from Japan for crying out loud. His dad ran a furniture store in Fresno. What the fuck did he know about pressing pants? He hoped he shrank every last piece of cloth those Hydra bastards gave him. He hoped they had to walk around with over-starched fabric wedged up their asses. He hoped—

“Prisoner 16982, report to the isolation ward for sanitation duty.”

 Jim clenched his jaw.

What he really hoped was that he’d never have to hear those words ever again. But of course, he did. Every fucking day.

And wasn’t that just his luck?

Jim couldn’t say if the same guard escorted him every time—those stupid, fucking helmets made it kind of hard to tell them apart—but the scene when he reached the ward never changed.

Before he even entered the room, he could already smell the rancid scent of upset Omega. Jim might have just been a Beta himself, but the smell was still enough to turn his stomach. And it only got worse as soon as he crossed the isolation ward’s threshold.

Well, God, I did ask ‘what else you got?’ Looks like you really showed me.

Jim had to pause to catch his breath, otherwise he might have vomited right then and there. But as sickened by the stench as Morita was, the doctor that always greeted him looked nothing but annoyed.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Zola waved a hand towards the back corner of the room. “You know what to do. I need him prepped and ready in ten minutes, so get to work.”

And what else could Jim do but let out the breath he’d been holding, gather his supplies, and do just exactly as the Nazi bastard said?

Talk about shit luck.

Half of him wanted to spit in the chubby weasel’s face. The other half was just grateful the little shit left before he got the chance.

Fuck you, Hydra. Fuck you, Zola. And fuck all hell and creation for what I’m about to do.

But that’s about all the rebellion Jim could muster at the moment. Just a single thought. Because as unlucky as he might be, Jim Morita still wasn’t stupid. He knew there wasn’t a single damn thing he could do that would change even the smallest fucking thing.

If it wasn’t him in here, somebody else would take his place. Sometimes he wished somebody else could take his place. But that was just Jim being a whiny, little shit. Because as much as he hated everything he was about to do, he knew the poor bastard on the floor had to hate it even more.

“You know, buddy, if you keep lying around like this, people are going to start thinking you’re even lazier than I am.”

The guy didn’t respond.

He never did.

Instead, he just lay there like always—his body prone, legs parted, one side of his face pressed against the floor while his arms lay cuffed atop his back, fingertips curled and pointing towards the ceiling.

Other than the ragged sound of his breathing and the occasional twitch of a finger, Jim might have thought the poor fuck was already gone. His mind sure as hell seemed to be. Every time Morita saw him, he was met with the same vacant, glassy-eyed stare. Other than the occasional rattle of the guy’s name, rank, and serial number, Jim had yet to hear another word pass his lips.

And sure enough, as soon as Jim touched him, the fool started chanting away like usual.

“James Barnes. Sergeant. 32557038.”

On and on it went.

“You know, pal, as many times as you’ve said that number, I don’t think I’m ever gonna forget it,” Morita said. “That thing’s been bouncing around in my head for days. So you think maybe you could give it a rest for a while?”

“James Barnes. Sergeant. 32557038.”

Jim sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.

As always, Jim’s luck was just plain shit. But for once in his life, he thought he’d met someone whose luck was even shittier.

And that just made Morita feel nothing but worse.

“Okay, buddy.” For whatever reason, Jim couldn’t bring himself to call the guy by his name. He couldn’t say why. All he knew was that it just felt wrong—especially under the circumstances. “You know the drill. I’m gonna have to clean you up now. I’m pretty sure neither one of us is gonna like it, but them’s the breaks, right?”

Barnes just kept up his mindless litany while Jim pulled the enema supplies off the shelf beside them.

God, but did he ever hate this part.

He didn’t know Barnes. He’d never met the guy during any of his shifts on the factory line. But he’d heard people talk. He’d had to listen to that new kid they shoved in his cell go on and on about how the sergeant had practically saved his life. Not that Jim ever fully bought the kid’s story. In his experience, people only helped each other out when they wanted something in return. So as much as Junior fucking Juniper might think the awe-inspiring Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes could walk on water, Jim had refused to believe it until he saw it.

Which he did.

Even now, Morita still couldn’t make sense of what he’d seen. Before that fucked up day on the floor, he’d only ever heard the stories about how this Barnes guy kept slipping in to take responsibility for every other screw-up the rest of their sorry lot kept making.

Once again, Jim figured it was all just a load of shit. Words were just words after all. But then he’d been standing there, not twenty feet away, about to watch Lohmer lay Juniper out for good, when out of nowhere, this cart hit the German mother fucker in the back, and the next thing Jim knows, Barnes is on the ground getting half-beat to death himself when all of a sudden, the whole world turns to shit and Barnes is out there going into heat right in front of all their eyes.

Talk about fucked up.

“Don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, going after Lohmer like that. Had to know it wouldn’t do you any good in the end.”

Nope, not a single damn bit of good.

Not by a long shot.

Barnes moaned as Morita rolled him onto his side, but that didn’t stop anything. Jim filled up his bottle. He readied his supplies. And he tried not to cringe when he inserted the nozzle into the sergeant’s hole.

“Easy,” Morita said when Barnes whimpered. “Just … Just take it easy.”

Like either of them ever could.

Time passed. Jim tried not to focus on what he was doing. He just let his hands follow the steps he’d already come to master. Then he cleaned up the inevitable mess that followed.

It was shit work. Literally. But Lohmer was adamant that it be done. No sloppy seconds for the colonel. Oh, no, couldn’t have that. Lohmer had demanded his prize be cleaned both inside and out at the end of every day just so he’d have a fresh fuck waiting for him first thing in the morning.

Fucking Hydra bastard.

“See?” Jim said as soon as he was done. “Not so bad.”

But Barnes just kept rattling off his name, rank, and serial number while his body shook and his voice trembled so bad it made Jim’s own gut clench at the sound.

“Good talk, buddy.” Jim’s own hands shook as he spoke. “Real good talk. Now just hold on for a little while longer. We’re not done yet.”

Not even close.

As always, Jim told himself not to think. Just do.

He filled his usual bucked with fresh water. He soaped up the rag waiting beside it. And he got to work scrubbing the sergeant down from top to bottom.

It took time. Sweat coated every inch of his skin. Damp hair clung to his scalp. Barnes’ forearms were pocked with needle marks and his wrists were ringed with bruises. But all that could be dealt with easily enough. As for the rest ….

“Okay, pal, I promise I’ll try to be quick. Just …. Just gotta take care of this first, okay?”

And then Jim lowered his cloth down to the man’s bare ass.

Fucking hell.

He always hated this part.

Layers of filth coated the man’s inner thighs. The flesh there was already tender enough. Jim didn’t want to aggravate it any further. But what choice did he have? If he wasn’t fast enough, Zola would just have his men pull out the hose again. And after hearing Barnes cough and choke and scream through that ordeal once already, Jim was dead set against ever having to witness that shit storm again.

“Looks like you got some fresh marks on your shoulders here.” Jim fought to keep his voice neutral. “Not gonna lie. This soap’s probably gonna sting like a bitch. But what else we gonna do? Gotta wash ’em out, right?”

Jim didn’t expect a reply. And as usual, Barnes didn’t let him down. Instead, the Omega just gasped as Jim started cleaning out the dozen or more bite marks covering the man’s upper back. Not that Jim blamed him. The man’s shoulders were a mess.

Fucking Alphas.

Jim had always heard the urge to bite was damn near irresistible to an Alpha in rut. And from the looks of it, the rumors were true. Somebody—Zola, most likely—had been forward-thinking enough to strap a thick, leather collar around the sergeant’s neck. The band stretched from the base of the guy’s skull all the way to the top of his shoulders, and it had absolutely no give to it at all. Must’ve been uncomfortable as hell, but as far as Jim could tell, it had kept the man’s scent glands safe.

As to whether that was a blessing or a curse, Jim couldn’t say. The poor fuck’s life might have been better off if he’d been claimed early on—even if it was by the enemy. At least then he wouldn’t have ended up as a fuck toy for God knows how many Hydra shitheads. Probably wouldn’t have ended up covered in bites and bruises and cum either. And who knows? That fever of his might have dropped by now if he’d had a proper bond to settle down his heat. As it currently stood, though, the Omega’s body was still just as hot as it’d been the first day Jim had come to clean him. And the man’s breaths were no less ragged than when he’d first gone into heat four days ago.

Wait a minute. Four days ago?

Jim frowned.

Had it really already been four days? He could have sworn an Omega’s heat was only supposed to last for three.

“I know the Army’s all about telling us to go above and beyond, but seriously, man, you might wanna tell your body to give it a rest, okay?”

Barnes’ breath stuttered almost as if in response.

“James Barnes. Sergeant. 32557038.”

“I know, man.” Jim rolled his eyes. “Believe me. I know.”

By the time he’d finished scrubbing the poor guy down and giving him a quick shave—another one of Lohmer’s requirements, though Jim didn’t even want to begin to imagine why—Zola was back and waiting for him at the door.

“That will be all, Private,” the doctor said, and Jim left just as a pair of black-masked Hydra goons came in to take Barnes off to God-knows-where.

Not your business, Morita told himself.

Only he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was.

Still, Jim had other work to keep himself occupied. The laundry never ended, and Lohmer was still running behind schedule. Jim found himself getting called back to the factory floor more and more often now. His typical twelve-hour days had long-since turned into fourteen- and then sixteen-hour shifts. The pace was maddening. But as much as he wanted to sleep, his mind just kept dragging him back to the man in the isolation ward.

“Please,” Morita imagined the sergeant saying. “Help me,” the guy would repeat over and over in his dreams.

Never mind the fact that Jim had never heard the Omega utter a single coherent thought since this whole shit fest had begun, in his mind, all he ever heard was the man begging for help.

And all the while, there was nothing Jim could ever fucking do.

Don’t you mean ‘would’ do? his conscience corrected him one night, and Jim cringed at the notion.

He was a prisoner here. He had no power—not much anyway—so what we as he supposed to do? He couldn’t even save himself. No way could he help out someone else. And as far as putting the poor bastard out of his misery, mercy kills weren’t exactly looked upon favorably by the Army.

Or Hydra.

And maybe that was the real crux of his problem right there.

Jim couldn’t lie. Not to himself anyway. Every time he’d shaved the poor guy’s face, he’d thought about just how easy it’d be to break the skin right over the sweet spot. Just a single slash across the carotid. That’s all it’d take. He’d seen the kind of blood that gushed out of neck wounds. In just a few minutes, it would all be over.

Both for Barnes … and himself.

Which is exactly why you’ll never do it, the truth blared inside his mind. Because you’re nothing but a chicken shit, selfish fuck of coward. That’s why Hydra picked you for this job. And that’s why you’ve never let them down, you complicit piece of crap.

And no matter how hard he tried to shake it, that one word chased Jim through all his waking moments.

Complicit.

He clenched his fists whenever the thought came to mind, but that’s all he ever did. Of course, it was. After all, he was too damn complicit to do anything else, now wasn’t he?

Fuck.

Day five came, and as much as Jim wanted to believe he’d do something different, he tended to Barnes just the same as always. By day six, Jim had convinced himself the guy’s heat couldn’t possibly last another day, so what was the point of slitting the guy’s throat when he’d already made it to the end? That would just be plain murder. Of course, then came day seven, but Jim was too focused on telling Barnes all about Lohmer’s “untimely” death to think of anything more. And by day eight?

By day eight, Jim had just had e-fucking-nough.

“You know all this shit’s your own damned fault, right?” Jim found himself saying as he scrubbed the sergeant harder than he ever had before. “You’re a fucking Omega. What the hell are you even doing over here anyway? You think you could just come over here on a lark? That this whole war was just some big, fucking joke? Well, the joke’s on you, pal. And I, for one, am sick of being the guy who has to clean up the fucking punchline.”

Jim’s hands shook as he scrubbed away the semen, but for once, he told himself not to worry about the flesh beneath. Why should he? This guy obviously didn’t give a fuck about his own skin. And besides, it wasn’t like this whole mess was Jim’s fault anyway. Morita wasn’t the genius who snuck an Omega behind enemy lines. No, only one crazy bastard could possibly be blamed for that, and the stupid mother fucker didn’t even have enough thoughts left in his know-nothing brain to care.

Jim scrubbed harder and harder, faster and faster, until the guy beneath him was just a quivering mess and Jim wasn’t much better.

“Fuck.” The word left Morita like a gasp. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

Jim must have gotten some soap in his eyes, because before he knew it, tears were clouding up his vision.

He couldn’t keep doing this.

Why the hell did he have to keep doing this?

He knew it was just his own shit luck that brought him here. No matter how bad things were, for Jim Morita, they always got worse. He knew that. He accepted it, even. But this?

“Why, man. Just … why?” He couldn’t help but ask the poor fuck in front of him. “I’m used to getting shit on by life. But you? You’re an Omega for fuck’s sake. You’re what half these knotheads came over here to protect. You’re supposed to be safe and sound back home, probably living it up in some rich geezer’s penthouse, not getting fucked up the ass by a bunch of Hydra shitheads. So what the hell, man? Why even risk putting yourself through something like this? Why?”

Jim waited for a response, but he didn’t get one.

Of course, he didn’t get one.

Jim could count on one hand all the times he’d gotten what he wanted out of life, and sure enough, here he was getting stiffed again.

Part of him knew he shouldn’t be mad at Barnes for the slight. The poor bastard had been put through more hell than Jim could ever begin to imagine. If Jim had any decency, he’d just drop the whole matter and let the guy be. But another part of Jim—the angry, selfish, petty part he just couldn’t stand—flat out didn’t care. And just his luck, that was the part of himself that always managed to speak its mind.

“You know, I used to feel sorry for your kind,” Jim muttered as he cleaned out all the fresh wounds marring the sergeant’s back. “Used to think it was real crummy the way Alphas were always claiming you guys. Part of me even hated the knotheads for it. Made me damn grateful to be a Beta, I’ll tell you that much. But you know what? I think I get it now. I really do. Because if this is what happens when you let an Omega run wild, then damn it, bond them all. Let those knotheads run their lives, because God knows, idiots like you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself on own. No, you need some unlucky bastard like me to come in and clean up the mess. Well, you know what man? I’m sick of it. I’m sick of all this fucked up shit. And I’m sick to fucking death of how you had to pull me right into the God-forsaken middle of it.”

Jim’s voice broke on his last word. Ragged breaths burned through his chest. He threw the now-bloody rag into his bucket and just sat there with his knees up and his head bent between them as he tried to push back all the emotions he’d been bottling up for days, weeks, maybe even months now. Probably even longer than that, if he was being honest with himself.

Just pull it together, Jim. You have to pull it together.  

But it was just so damn hard to breathe, much less think. His heart was pumping too fast, his own pulse thundered against his eardrums. He could barely hear anything above it. But even so, despite his current breakdown, it was just his luck that he could still make out the single word spoken out to him in a voice no louder than a whisper.

“Sorry.”

Jim’s head snapped up.

He looked down, and for the first time in the eight days he’d been serving in the isolation ward, another pair of eyes looked back at him. The sergeant’s pupils were blown. His gaze was fever-bright. But there was a definite awareness to the man now. Jim didn’t know how long it’d been there or how much of Morita’s ranting Barnes had heard, but from the look on the man’s face, it had to be enough.

“Sorry,” the sergeant repeated.

And just like that, a swell of shame washed away everything else Morita had been feeling.

Out of all the words you the guy could’ve said ….

“Look, man …” Jim started. But before he could even think of what to say next, the door opened behind him.

“That will be all, Private.” Zola entered the room. A few steps back, a pair of Hydra soldiers flanked the doctor on either side. “You can return to your other duties.”

“But I’m not done yet.” Jim’s mind tried to latch onto some excuse to keep him where he was. “I still haven’t shaved him.”

And maybe that would be enough. Maybe the doctor would give Jim the time he needed to finish up what he’d only just now started.

Because Jim needed that time. He needed it desperately. For the first time in over a week, he’d finally started up a conversation with the man who’d been consuming his thoughts for days. He needed to know what Barnes wanted him to do. He needed to know whether the sergeant wanted to keep on living or if he was ready to end it now. Because if he asked him to, Jim knew he would end it now. That collar might be a pain, but Jim was sure he could stick a razor blade far enough underneath to nick what was needed. And if he cut deep enough, there’d be no turning back. Barnes would die, and Jim’s days of being complicit would come to an end.

Of course, Jim would probably come to an end, too, but at this point, Morita really didn’t care. Fuck it. If all his life amounted to was doing Hydra’s dirty work, he’d rather end it now anyway. He just needed to make sure Barnes felt the same way first.

But before he could make any further plans, Zola cut off that whole line of thought with a single shake of his head.

“That will be quite unnecessary, Private,” the doctor said. “Since Herr Lohmer is no longer in any position to make use of the sergeant’s … other orifices, I see no reason to keep up the colonel’s strict grooming preferences.”

Morita’s lips parted, but try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“And besides,” Zola continued, “I’ve already spoken to Herr Schmidt, and he’s agreed to give the Omega a much-needed rest. For the foreseeable future, the sergeant will be spending his days under my direct care. So I’m afraid this will be the last time we’ll have need of your services, Private. You can return to the factory floor.”

And before Jim could even process what had just been said, Zola’s men picked up the sergeant and took Barnes off to whatever fucked up lab the doctor had decided to keep him in next.

Talk about shit luck.

Jim didn’t notice much after that. He just followed along in a daze as some other Hydra creep led him out of the room, and eventually he ended up in the middle of an assembly line somewhere on the factory floor. He couldn’t even say what it was he was meant to be doing. His mind was too bogged down by other thoughts to even think about work. But his hands remembered, at least. So he let them take the lead. And like always, they didn’t let him down.

Which was more than he could say for the rest of himself.

You should have made the call back when you still had the chance, his conscience goaded him. A mercy kill might still be murder, but at least it’s a mercy. And you know that’s something Barnes will never see from Zola, so way to go, Jim. You just managed to fuck him over even harder than all those other Hydra knotheads combined.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut before sucking in a short, quick breath.

Fuck it all. He had to nip this line of thinking right now. He couldn’t afford to let doubts like these drag him down. Not here. Not now. Not when his whole life depended on keeping a level head inside this Hydra-infested hell-hole.

He’s an Omega. You’re a Beta. Worrying about him was never your responsibility in the first place.

But if that was true, then why didn’t telling himself that make him feel any better?

And why the fuck were another pair of Betas busy worrying about Barnes, too?

Jim glanced up when he heard someone mention Barnes’ name across the conveyor belt. It just went to show how far out of it he’d been that Jim hadn’t even noticed Junior Juniper standing not three feet away from where he was currently working. Beside the kid, an older British officer kept reminding Juniper to keep his voice down. Not that it would help. From Jim’s experience, the dumb private never had been any good when it came to subtlety.

“I just wish I knew where he was, Monty. That’s all I’m saying.” The kid’s voice rose above the factory’s constant roar. “It’s been eight days. You’d think by now, they’d at least tell us what happened.”

“Ain’t but one thing that could have happened,” some big Alpha answered from farther down the line. “He got fucked, and he got claimed. That’s all that ever happens when an Omega goes through heat.”

Juniper shook his head, ready to deny it, but the knothead down from them didn’t give him time to talk.

“I’m telling you, kid, you’d be better off forgetting that one,” the jerk said. “It don’t matter what kind of man you thought he was, once an Omega gets claimed, it’s up to his Alpha to decide what he gets to be from there on out. So you’d better just wake up and kiss whatever memory you’ve got of your old sergeant goodbye. Cause by now those Krauts have probably got that guy trained so good, he’s bound to be hailing Hydra one minute and begging to suck off some other German’s sausage the next.”

Morita’s lips curled before he could catch himself.

“Just shows what kind of shit for brains you’ve got,” Jim told the Alpha. “Because I know for a fact that Barnes ain’t been hailing nobody, and he sure as he sure as hell ain’t been in any position to be begging for what’s happening to him, either.”

“And what do you know about it?” the Alpha shot back, but Morita just held his glare.

“A hell of a lot more than you do,” Jim said.

And maybe there was something in the tone of his voice or the look of his face, but for whatever reason, the Alpha didn’t press Morita any further.

Jim just wished the same could have been said for Juniper. Morita barely had time to take a breath before the kid was already hammering him with questions.

“Jim? You’ve seen, Sarge? How’s he doing? Where are they keeping him? He’s all right, isn’t he? I mean, he’s still alive, right? He’s—”

But Jim cut him off right there.

“Look, kid, he’s still alive,” Jim said. “As for being all right ….”

Jim took a deep breath.

The last thing he wanted to do was rehash all the shit he’d seen over the last eight days, but he didn’t really have a choice here, did he? This was Junior fucking Juniper he was talking to. The kid never let anything go—especially when it came to Barnes. And besides, maybe Jim was getting a kind of tired of carrying this load all by himself anyway. He hadn’t said a word to anybody since this whole shitfest began. But now that somebody was asking ….

As soon as Jim started talking, he found it hard to stop.

On and on he went. He told them everything he’d seen. Well, not everything everything. He wasn’t cruel enough to tell them the worst of the worst moments he’d witnessed. But still, all that he’d mentioned was more than enough to leave Juniper and the Brit a hell of a lot paler than they’d been before Jim had started talking.

“But … but there has to be something we can do,” Juniper said when he finally found his voice again. “There has to be some way we can fix this.”

And before he could stop himself, Jim burst out laughing.

“Fix this? You stupid little shit. You really think there’s anything anybody could do that would even come close to fixing this?”

Juniper’s mouth fell open.

“I … I just thought ….” Juniper stammered. “I mean, there has to be something we can do, some way we can help him. Right?” He turned to the older Brit beside him. “Right?”

But his new friend obviously didn’t feel like talking, because the Tommy just kept standing there with his lips pressed together so tight, his mouth was nothing but a thin, white line. So of course, that left Jim to pick up the slack.

Like always.

“Look, kid,” Jim said, even though Junior couldn’t be all that much younger than he was. “If you really wanna do something for that buddy of yours, then just start praying he hurries up and dies already. Cause I’m telling you, after all the shit they’ve put him through ….” Jim took a deep breath before shaking his head. “Ain’t no way any man could come back from that. Not and still be sane.”

And with that said, Jim got back to work. If Juniper asked any more questions, Morita sure didn’t hear them. But then again, he wasn’t exactly listening. Instead, his thoughts kept going back to that one word that wouldn’t stop playing itself over and over again in his mind.

“Sorry.”

Jim’s throat tightened at the mere memory of Barnes’ voice.

You and me both, Jim wished he would have said earlier. You. And me. Both.

But of course, those words hadn’t come to him then just like the right words wouldn’t come to him now. Not that Jim was surprised or anything. He’d always had a gift for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But still, sometimes he wished that wasn’t always the case. It might be nice to be the kind of guy that cared about everybody else around him instead of the self-serving, complicit piece of shit he was now.

But what could he do? Them’s the breaks, right?

So he got back to work. He tuned out everything else. And he forced himself not to think about Sergeant Bucky Fucking Barnes even thought that was the only subject his dumb ass mind wanted to pull up.

Jim let out a stilted breath.

Maybe in his next life, he’d be a better person. Maybe then he could do some good—or at least not fuck up everything he touched. It was sure as hell nice to think that way, but in the end, he wouldn’t bet on it.

After all, his luck had always been shit.

Chapter Text

November 1943

Sometimes Steve didn’t know if receiving the serum had been a blessing or a curse.

Sitting there in the rain, he tried not to let his own disappointment set in too deeply. At least he was here, in Italy, less than five miles from the front. For so long now, that’s all he’d wanted. To join the war. To do his part. All he’d needed was a chance, he’d said. Just give him a uniform, and he’d go wherever his nation sent him.

Well, he’d gotten that chance and he’d gotten that uniform, and just look where that had gotten him. Thanks to Senator Brandt, he was nothing more than a fancy-dressed salesman hawking bonds. But at least that was something. If left up to Phillips, he’d be nothing at all. And Rogers knew from experience there was nothing worse than that.

Steve sighed as he let his pencil sketch out the curve of his monkey’s tail.

One of these days, he really did need to learn that when it came to dreaming, details mattered. The next time he came up with something he wanted, he fully intended to pen down every last little aspect of it he could. Maybe then, at least, he’d stand a chance of getting what he wanted. Because otherwise he’d hate to know what other sick twists fate might have in store for him.

As if anything could be worse than spending the war in tights, he thought with a snort. But even then, something inside him urged him to knock on wood.

Don’t you dare tempt fate, Steven Grant Rogers, he could practically hear his ma’s voice whispering from the back of his mind. But he’d never been so good at listening to her advice even when she was still alive. And somehow he didn’t see that changing now.

Oh, well.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until a woman’s voice softly called his name. And even then, seeing Agent Carter standing right there beside him, Steve still couldn’t shake his own bad mood. All through their conversation, his disappointment lingered. It wasn’t until he noticed the actual soldiers suffering in the background that Rogers realized just how selfish he was being.

Here he was feeling sorry for himself, and there were men behind him just fighting to stay alive. They looked like hell. Steve had no doubt they’d been through hell. But when Peggy told him about the astronomical number of casualties they’d just suffered as well as the name of their unit …

His brain ground to a halt.

“The 107^th?”

Bucky’s unit.

Oh God, it couldn’t be Bucky’s unit.

Steve prayed Peggy would correct him, only she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. He should have known better than to think he’d get off that easy.

Steve didn’t even realize he was up and running until he was halfway to Phillips’ tent. By then, he was already soaked to the skin, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Bucky. He had to know what had happened to Bucky. Was the jerk okay? He had to be okay. Bucky Barnes was the strongest, smartest, most responsible guy Steve had ever known, so of course, he’d be okay. The world wouldn’t make any sense if he wasn’t.

Not that much of anything had made sense ever since that night Rogers had met Dr. Erskine at the expo. But still, this was different. It had to be different.

Or, at least, he prayed it was.

When Steve eventually did barge into Phillps’ tent, like always, the older Alpha wasn’t happy to see him. Still Rogers had hoped—and good God, had he ever hoped—that the colonel would have better news. But when the man confirmed what Steve had dreaded most ….

“What about the others?” Somehow Steve’s mouth still worked even though the rest of his body didn’t know what to do. “Are you planning a rescue mission?”

“Yeah, it’s called winning the war,” Phillips said.

And the rest of their conversation just deteriorated from there.

By the time Steve left the man’s company, he was fuming. But he also had a plan. The rest of the 107^th was only thirty miles behind enemy lines. Steve could get there. He had to get there. So he rushed back to his tent. He packed what little gear he had. And he set out to “borrow” the first jeep he could find.

Fortunately for him, out of everyone that might have noticed his interest in the colonel’s maps, only Carter managed to piece together what he might do. And while the Omega did warn him that he was setting out on a lost cause, she was not only good enough not to stop him, she even helped him out along the way.

Which just went to show, sometimes fate really could work in his favor.

For the next few hours, Steve’s life was just a blur. At some point, Stark showed up. They boarded his plane. Howard made some mention about fondue, while Agent Carter gave him instructions about using his transponder. Then the next thing he knew, enemy fire had lit up the sky, Steve was ripping open the door, and he’d just finished telling the others to get the hell back home before he jumped out of the plane and parachuted down into enemy territory.

All in all, not too bad of a start for a chorus girl.

Even what followed seemed to go off without a hitch. There was some creeping through the woods, sure. He might have gotten turned around once or twice. But once Steve made it to the gate, it was surprisingly easy to hitch a ride in the nearest transport truck and sneak through the back door.

His luck held all the way inside, too. And when he finally made it to the building’s main cell block, Steve knew—he just knew—that Bucky would be right there waiting for him.

Only he wasn’t.

“Is there anybody else?” he’d asked as the prisoners poured out of their pens. “I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.”

And for some reason, just the mention of Bucky’s name was enough to sour most of the prisoners’ scents.

Steve frowned.

“I take it you’ve heard of him.” Rogers said slowly as he glanced around the crowd, but no one would meet his gaze. Those closest to him just shuffled their feet. And instead of an answer, all he got was a rather violent stream of curses from some red-headed Alpha in a bowler hat.

What the hell?

Steve was about to grab the nearest GI and demand to know what was going on when another man slipped through the masses and fell into step at Rogers’ side.

“They took him to an isolation ward inside the factory.” The Brit kept his voice just loud enough so that only Steve could hear. “But that was nine days ago. If he’s still alive, he’s probably—”

But Steve didn’t wait to listen to any more. He’d heard enough already. So he snapped out a few quick orders and gave them what little intel he had on the facility’s layout. These men were trained soldiers. They had more combat experience than Steve probably ever would. So he left them to it and rushed on ahead just as fast as he could.

Bucky.

He had to find Bucky.

Not for the first time in his life, he wished his friend wasn’t a Beta. It’d be so easy if Bucky had a scent. But as it stood, all he could do was search hall after hall and floor after floor until eventually he spotted a short man in a lab coat darting out of some room farther up ahead.

The scientist paused just long enough for Steve to catch his eye. And in that moment, Rogers thought about following him. But before he’d made it more than a step, the rancid stench of pumpkin and sweat and pain flooded his nostrils.

Steve froze in his tracks.

If he didn’t know better, Steve would swear he’d just caught scent of an Omega right now. And not just any Omega. An Omega in Heat.

Steve’s gut clenched at the idea, and he shook his head to clear it.

No. No, he had to be wrong. Rogers had heard about the horrors of war, but this was pushing it, even for the Nazis. To torture any human was bad enough, but an Omega? How could anyone even think about torturing an Omega? Especially one in heat. The idea alone was beyond disgusting. It was just plain evil. It was barbaric. It was ….

Looking more and more likely the closer Steve got to that door.

Steve had to take a moment to steady himself before moving forward. Already the scent was stronger than anything he’d ever smelled before. And the effect it was having on him ….

He shivered.

Steve remembered just how hard Peggy’s pheromones had hit him that one time he’d encountered her while she’d been in heat. Their pull had been almost overwhelming. But while Agent Carter’s scent had been nothing but inviting, this one just smelled of pain and horror and dying.

And the drawn-out groan coming from the room ahead only went to further prove that point.

Creeping forward, Steve scanned the area for an ambush, but all he found waiting for him was a map, some lab equipment, and a sheet-draped table in the center of the room. Underneath the sheet, a figure stirred. A moment later, a whisper-soft voice broke the silence.

“James Barnes. Sergeant. 32557038.”

And just like that, Steve’s world rocked on its axis.

He didn’t remember rushing forward. All Steve knew was that one moment he was standing beside the door frame, and the next he was there next to the table.

“Bucky?” Steve reached forward with a shaking hand, his fingers already sinking into the man’s sweat-damp hair. “Buck, it’s me. Steve.”

“Steve?”

Bucky blinked. He rolled his head towards Steve’s voice, and when his cheek brushed Rogers’ fingertips, Steve flinched.

Good God, the guy was burning up. Steve had already felt the warmth radiating through his friend’s hair, but as soon as he settled his palm on Bucky’s forehead, his stomach dipped.

How hot could a man get before his body finally gave out on him?

Even now, just the act of breathing looked like it was wearing his friend out.  Vaguely, Steve remembered his ma telling him something about how fevers could be just as dangerous as the illnesses that brought them on. The human body wasn’t meant to handle all that heat. It placed too much stress on the heart, could warp the brain. And the longer it lasted, the worse the results.

Steve’s gut lurched as he remembered the Englishman’s words from earlier.

Nine days.

Bucky had been back here for nine days.

What the hell had those bastards been doing to him for the last nine days?

Anger soured Steve’s scent, and Bucky whimpered in response.

“Oh, God.  No, Buck. I’m sorry.” Steve settled his scent as fast he could. “I’m so sorry. It’s just me, remember? Steve? You remember Steve, right?”

“Steve …”

Fever-bright eyes searched the room, but Bucky’s pupils were so blown, Steve doubted the guy could see a thing. Still, his lips curled up at the ends as soon as his gaze landed on Steve. 

“Stevie,” he whispered one more time, and then Bucky’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he was out before he could say another word.

“No!” Steve patted his friend’s cheek just as hard as he dared. “No, Buck, come on. Come back to me.”

But other than the occasional ragged breath, Bucky didn’t make a sound. The Beta—no, Omega, Steve corrected himself, because up this close, there was no denying his friend’s designation was anything other than what it was—just lay there as still as a corpse.

This couldn’t be real.

Dear God, this couldn’t be real.

Steve stared down at his best friend. Any second now, he expected the delusion to melt away. Bucky would look up at him. He’d speak to him. He’d make one of his usual smart-assed quips, and then he’d get up. They’d get out of this hell-hole together, side-by-side, just like always. And everything would be fine. Bucky would be fine.

Only that was the delusion. And Steve had a feeling the full reality of it was a hell of a lot worse than anything he could ever begin to imagine.

“What’d they do to you, Buck?” he whispered into the silence. But if he’d been hoping for a response, he sure didn’t get one.

Pull it together, Rogers, he told himself. You can’t afford to lose it now. Buck won’t survive it if you do.

And that one thought was enough to get him moving again.

“Okay.” Steve took a deep breath before pulling back the sheet covering his friend’s body. “Okay, I just need to take a look at what we’re dealing with first. Then—Oh, God.”

Steve wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

Underneath the cover, his best friend had been laid bare. Needle marks covered his inner arms. Fingerprint-shaped bruises and stray incisions marred his torso. A pair of IV needles pierced each of his hands while a single catheter snaked up into areas Steve dared not think about.

But as bad as all of that was, the restraints were what enraged Steve the most. Heavy, cloth bands immobilized Bucky’s wrists and ankles, his chest and waist. No way could a man move when he was bound up like that. It’d be impossible to fight, impossible to escape, impossible to even hope of getting away.

And it was the thought of that hopelessness that tore Steve up worse than anything else.

Without another word, Steve ripped every last one of those bands in two and tossed them aside just as fast as possible.

Then came the hard part.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Steve didn’t know if he was talking more to Bucky or himself as he slowly unhooked the first IV. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re just … you’re gonna be okay.”

And more than anything, Steve prayed he was telling the truth.

Somehow he removed all the lines from his friend’s body. By the time he was done, his nerves felt completely shot. God knows he wasn’t built for this. Thanks to the serum, infiltrating an enemy base didn’t even quicken his pulse. But nursing? He’d never been any good when it came to taking care of others. His ma had been blessed with that gift.

And Bucky, his mind pointed out. Bucky had always been good at it, too

Memories of all the times his best friend had nursed him back to health over the years flashed through his mind, and Steve prayed to God right then and there that this once—please, God, just this once—he could finally return the favor.

“Okay, Buddy, let’s get you home.”

A single, stilted breath was the only response Steve got as he wrapped the Omega in the same sheet that had been covering him earlier and carefully lifted him off the table.

Hold on, Buck. Steve’s thoughts fell in time to the beat of his own footsteps as he took off running down the hall. Hold on. Hold on.

Hold on.

Somewhere in the background, explosions rocked the facility. Steve registered them in the same far-off, detached way he registered everything else during their escape. Almost mindlessly, he ran down hallways, up stairs, and over catwalks. At one point, he faced down the Red Skull himself only to be denied a fight by the same pudgy scientist he’d let escape earlier.

But as much as he wanted to make the pair pay for whatever had happened to his friend, Steve couldn’t bring himself to care all that much when they got away. Vengeance could wait for another day. Right now, he had more pressing concerns.

“It’s okay, Buck.” Steve clutched his friend even closer as flames billowed up from the floors down below. “Just a little farther, and it’ll all be okay. Trust me. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It was during times like these, Steve really wished he was a better liar.

But as it turned out, he didn’t have to be. By some miracle, his words came true. Despite all the fire and smoke and falling girders, he and Bucky still made it out of the flame-engulfed facility unharmed. The treeline was just a few hundred yards away. All they had to do was hop the fence, and they’d be home free.

Or at least they would have been if they hadn’t gotten pinned down by an enemy tank as soon as they cleared the outer wall.

So much for counting on miracles.

Steve’s mind was already busy preparing strategies, his muscles already coiling up to move, when a single, hushed exclamation from the tank’s gunner drew him up short.

“Sweet mother of God.”

The meaning of the words didn’t register with Steve. Not at first. But the language did.

English.

And spoken in a real, honest-to-God English accent.

Steve felt all the tension leave him in an instant, because there, manning the tank’s cannon, was the same British major he’d spoke to in the prisoner’s cell block.

“I need a medic,” Steve called, and that seemed to be enough to knock the major out of his stupor.

Everything afterwards happened faster then. Words were spoken. Questions were asked. At one point, a big Alpha clambered out of the tank and demanded Steve hand over “Jimmy” right then and there—as if that was even an option—but the Brit sorted him out soon enough. 

“You’ll have to forgive Dugan,” the major explained as soon as the corporal had reclaimed his seat inside the tank. “He and Barnes served together in the same unit. It’s made him rather … protective of the man. Especially so now, given the sergeant’s current condition.”

Steve snorted at that.

“I’ll bet,” was all he managed to say.

The smell of heat still rolled off Bucky in waves. It was so potent even Steve was having trouble ignoring its call. God only knew what effects it must be having on the other men.

But as much as his instincts urged him to keep his best friend as far away from any other Alphas as he could, Steve still accepted a ride atop the tank. He didn’t have much of a choice. Bucky needed help—dear God, did he ever need help—and the Brit knew the quickest route to whatever aid station the ex-POWs had managed to throw together.

“It’s not much,” the major—Falsworth, he’d said his name was—told him, “but the few medics we do have are already at work tending the wounded. Perhaps they can do something for Barnes, too.”

Steve managed a nod, but that was it. Thankfully, Falsworth didn’t press for more.

A handful of shots rang out as the tank rumbled along. Every now and then, blue light flashed at the edge of Steve’s vision, but it was clear that whatever battle had taken place was already winding down. The prisoners had won. “Thanks to Captain America,” Falsworth pointed out with a smirk. But as interested as Steve knew he should be in the battle and the victory and everything that was bound to follow, he had far more pressing questions on his mind.

“Please.” Steve’s voice cracked, and he took a deep breath to clear it. “I just … Can you tell me what happened? To him, I mean.”

He nodded down to the man in his arms, and Falsworth took a deep breath of his own.

“I take it he’s a friend of yours,” the major said, and Steve nodded.

“He’s my best friend,” Steve told him. “Please. I need to know.”

So Falsworth told him.

Everything.

By the time they reached the rest of the prisoners, more than a few of the men had already stopped to stare in their direction. Not-so-soft murmurs rippled through their ranks, but Steve didn’t care to listen. Before the tank had even come t1o a stop, he was already on the ground—Bucky still clutched tight in his arms—and rushing to the first man he saw with a red cross on his sleeve.

“Please,” was all he said, and the guy just blinked before finally shaking his head and gesturing to what might have been the same covered truck Steve had used to sneak into the facility earlier that night.

Talk about coming full circle.

Carrying Bucky into the back bed, Steve laid him down just as gently as he could.

“Can you help him?” he asked before the medic could even pull back the sheet.

But the other guy was too busy shaking his head to answer.

“This isn’t right,” the man muttered. “It’s been nine days, and he’s still in heat? How the hell is this even possible? Christ, how is he even alive? He’s burning up.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “But there’s something you can do, right? Some way to stop this?”

Again, the medic refused to give him a straight answer. He just muttered a distracted, “I don’t know,” as he got started on his examination, his hands prodding Bucky here, touching him there, drifting over all the cuts and wounds and bruises while all Steve could do was stand back and watch.

And through it all, the man made no mention of how to fix what was wrong. The uncertainty was nearly enough to drive Steve crazy.

That and the smell.

Good God, the smell.

Steve had tried his damnedest to ignore the pull of his best friend’s scent, but now—with nothing left to fight and no one left to find—he had no more distractions to keep his mind occupied. His instincts were going haywire. Claim. Protect. Mate. The same urges he’d faced when Agent Carter had performed her final test were all there, only this time they were worse. This time he wasn’t smelling some near-stranger he’d only known for a few days. This time he was smelling Bucky.

His Bucky.

And right now some other man’s hands were all over him.

A growl pressed against the back of Steve’s throat, but he fought to swallow it down.

The guy’s just doing his job, rationality managed to speak up over Steve’s baser impulses. Besides, he’s a Beta. And even if he wasn’t, Bucky’s your friend. Only your friend. And right now he needs help. So can the Alpha crap and let the medic get to work.

And through sheer willpower alone, that’s just what Steve did.

An eternity passed as he watched the medic examine his friend. At one point, the canvas flap flew open behind him, and a younger Beta clambered inside.

“Monty said you found Sarge. Where is he? Is he okay? Is he—”

But the kid’s words broke off as soon as he caught sight of Bucky’s bare body spread out across the bottom of the truck’s bed.

“Oh, God.”

This time, Steve couldn’t hold back a growl.

He was just about to throw the interloper out. Good manners be damned. Bucky wasn’t some fucking sideshow. He didn’t deserve to be gawked at. Especially not now.

But as the medic slowly rolled his friend over and Steve got his first good look at the dozens of bites and bruises and gashes covering the Omega’s back—not to mention the mess between his legs—Steve didn’t trust himself to lay a hand on anyone.

Already, the truck’s steel frame was bending beneath his grip. If the kid didn’t leave soon, he could only imagine the guy’s bones would break just as easily. But before Steve could so much as order the kid out, Falsworth was already there and doing it for him.

“You can see the sergeant later, Juniper,” the major said. “Dugan needs your help with the tank.”

And with that, the kid was gone and the Englishman stepped up to take his place.

Several minutes passed before the Brit voiced the one question Steve had been too scared to ask.

“Will he live?”

But all the medic did was shrug.

“Honestly?” The man said. “I can’t even tell you how the guy’s still alive now. I don’t know all that much about Omegas, but I do know their heats are hell on them. And to have one last nine days under these circumstances …” The medic shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“But there has to be something you can do,” Steve said. “You can’t just sit there and let him die. You’re supposed to help people.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” the medic snapped. “I’ve got shit for supplies, no medication to speak of, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. Omega medicine isn’t exactly in the Army training manual, you know.”

The guy took a deep breath before running a hand over his face.

“Look, Captain … ?”

“Rogers,” Steve said. “Steve Rogers.”

“Alright, Captain Steve Rogers, I understand that you want me to help your friend. And believe me, I would if I could. But this … I don’t know that there’s any coming back from this.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “He’s still alive. He still has a chance.”

“There’s always a chance,” the medic said. “But you gotta ask yourself, a chance at what?”

He paused to let his words sink in.

“Like I said,” the man went on, “I’m no Omega expert, but even I know the human brain can’t survive a fever this hot—not without some kind of damage at least. Couple that with all the trauma he’s been through—not to mention whatever else those sick bastards were doing to him—and I’d be damned surprised if there was anything left of your friend even if he did pull through.”

Steve swallowed. “You’re wrong. Bucky’s strong. When I found him, he knew me. I know he knew me.”

The medic gave Steve the same pitying look his mom’s doctor had given him just a week before Sarah Rogers had passed away.

“Please.” Steve said. “I can’t give up on him. I won’t. If there’s anything you even think that could help …”

But the medic just kept shaking his head.

“I don’t know.” The man’s attention turned back to Bucky. “I just don’t know. I mean, I always heard getting bonded could stop an Omega’s heat. I’ve checked his neck twice, but clear as I can tell, nobody’s claimed him. Maybe that’s why he’s still like this. His body keeps getting taken, but nobody’s stopped to leave a mark.”

“So you think that’s the answer?” Steve asked. “You think a bond could save him?”

“Look, I’m not saying anything.” The medic held up his hands. “Like I said, I’m no expert here. Your guess is as good as mine. But maybe. I mean, yeah, I guess a bond might help. In theory, anyway. But what’s it matter? It’s not like you’re gonna have many volunteers stepping up to claim the guy. Not after what he’s been through. Unless ….”

Steve’s body tensed as the man eyed him up and down.

“Unless you want to, that is,” the medic finished, and Steve couldn’t help but flinch at the guy’s choice of words.

Want.

Why did he have to use the word want?

Because it’s true, a little voice whispered. This is what you’ve always wanted. You know it is.

And before Steve could even think of an argument, bits of old fantasies flashed through his mind. His hands on Bucky’s thighs. His teeth piercing his friend’s neck. His knot thick and swollen, locking the two tight together, keeping the pair of them warm and close and inseparable just as they were always meant to be.

He must have imagined what it would be like to claim Bucky hundreds—no, more like thousands—of times. But out of all the daydreams he’d had over the years, he’d never once conceived it would ever be like this.

Dear God, why did it have to be like this?

Steve took a deep breath. Then another. And another. And another.

In the background, he could hear the medic still talking, but he couldn’t focus on what the guy was saying. Not when all he could smell was Bucky. His Bucky. Even as soured as it was, his friend’s scent still called to him. It begged him to claim him. Steve wanted to claim him. He’d wanted it so bad and for so long, and now here he was, with others telling him he not only could, but he should.

Steve shook his head.

It was too much. This was all just too damn much.

More words were spoken. The major and the medic talked while Steve tried to reign in his baser urges, and by the time he looked up again, only Falsworth remained.

“Well?” the Englishman asked when Steve’s eyes finally met his. “Have you come to a decision yet?”

And as much as Steve knew what he wanted to do, he just … couldn’t.

“It just wouldn’t be right,” he heard himself saying. “Bucky … he’s not even conscious.”

“But he is still alive,” Falsworth pointed out. “If you wait much longer, that might not be the case.”

Still, Steve shook his head. “We don’t even know if a bond would help him or not. He could still pull through on his own.”

“And suppose he does survive. What then?” the major asked. “Just how do you think your superiors will react when you bring an unbonded, heat-sick, Omega soldier into their midst? Especially one who was believed to be a Beta before his capture. Granted, I’m not well-versed in American military regulation, but I can’t imagine your government would look too kindly upon anyone who would so blatantly deceive their organization. Or am I wrong?”

Memories of Phillips and drill sergeants and even all the military recruiters he’d spoken to over the years swirled through his mind, and Steve’s gut churned.

“No,” he said. “You’re not wrong.”

“So,” Falsworth pressed on, “Just what do you think your government will do, Captain? Of course, the sergeant will be stripped of his rank and discharged from the Army. But then? I can’t speak for your country’s system, but I know that in mine, he’d have very few rights on his own. I should think that at a minimum, he’d be taken into custody, probably sent to a reeducation facility, and then handed off to whatever Alpha the courts deem qualified enough to control him. Does that sound about right to you?”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to argue. He wished he could argue. But honestly …

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah, it does.”

“And that’s the fate you’d wish upon your friend.” The Brit still wouldn’t let up. “To become government property? To be broken and remade in whatever image his eventual mate sees fit?”

Steve’s eyes flew open. “No, of course not.”

“Then why hesitate? If you truly are his friend, shouldn’t you want to protect him?”

“I do want to protect him,” Steve snapped. “I just don’t want to take advantage of him. That’s all. He should at least have the right to say no.”

And then it was the Englishman’s turn to give Steve the same pitying look the medic had earlier.

“Captain, I don’t believe your friend has had that right for some time now. And the sad truth is, as an Omega, he never will again. Not unless his Alpha permits it.”

And once again, Steve wanted to argue. He wanted to scream. Hell, he wanted to punch out the whole damn German army if truth be told. But instead, he just settled for clenching his fists.

“I can understand how shocking this entire situation must be.” Falsworth took a step closer, and his voice dropped to that soft, slow tone that usually preceded heartbreaking news. “But we haven’t the luxury of time. If you’re unwilling to commit to a bond, no one will fault you for it. But for your friend’s sake, at least admit to it now. That way others can have the chance to volunteer.”

Steve’s head jerked up. “What others?”

“Corporal Dugan, for one,” the major said. “Private Jones might possibly step up as well. The three have been rather close since—”

“No.”

“Pardon?” Falsworth raised an eyebrow.

“I said no,” Steve told him. “If anyone’s gonna do this, it’s gonna be me.”

And after a long, level look, the major finally nodded.

It didn’t take long for the Englishman to leave after that. He lingered just long enough to give Steve a single pat on the shoulder before he issued one last word of caution.

“Just remember, if you want to help your friend, you won’t be doing him any favors by going halfway,” Falsworth said. “I might not be an Alpha, but I do know that for a bond to take, it has to be consummated in full.”

And all Steve could do was nod as the major disappeared through the truck’s canvas flap.

Then it was just him and Bucky.

Oh, God, Bucky …

The Omega hadn’t shifted from where the medic had left him. His chest still rose and fell—thank the Lord for that—but otherwise he was as still as a corpse

“You’re okay,” Steve said—though even he couldn’t tell if the words were meant more for the man on the floor or just himself. “Everything’s okay. It’s all gonna be … it’ll be okay.”

Then he was on his knees, one hand on his friend’s chest and the other cupping the man’s face.

Steve tipped Bucky’s head towards him, but other than a slight parting of lips, the Omega didn’t so much as twitch.

“Bucky?” Steve whispered. “Come on, pal. I know you’re still in there, so why don’t you quit being such a lazy jerk and open your eyes.”

He patted the Omega’s cheek. But other than a single, ragged breath, nothing changed.

“Please, Buck,” Steve begged. “Don’t make me do this. Not this way. I need to know it’s what you want.”

Steve waited, but again, all he got were more hitched breaths. It took him nearly a minute to realize the sounds were coming from his own chest and not his friend’s.

He wiped his eyes.

Beneath his fingertips, Bucky’s skin still burned hot. Too hot. Fresh saliva clung to the man’s chapped lips while beads of sweat slid down his jaw. His hair was matted. His skin was flushed. And his body was so drawn up, Steve couldn’t imagine the last time the guy must have had a full meal.

To anyone else, Steve knew his friend must have looked like hell. But to Steve?

Steve smiled sadly as he stroked the man’s hair.

To Steve, he’d always be Bucky. His Bucky. And no matter what, he’d always be beautiful.

He just wished to God he could have always stayed safe, too.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Buck?” he asked. “I coulda kept you safe. I want to keep you safe. That’s why I’m doing this, okay? To keep you safe, understand? Please, tell me you understand.”

Steve’s voice cracked on the last word, but all he got from Bucky was another harsh breath, this one with a rattle at the end. Clenching his jaw against the sound, Steve forced himself to pull back the sheet before rolling the brunette onto his stomach.

Consummated in full.

The Brit’s words rang through Steve’s mind. And by the time he was done, his hands were shaking so hard he could barely unfasten his pants.

“I’m gonna try to be as gentle as I can,” Steve said as he parted his best friend’s legs. “I wish to God I didn’t have to do this. Not here. Not like this. But if the bond’s gonna take, you’re gonna have to be bitten and knotted. It’s the only way the courts will honor the claim. And they’ve gotta honor it, Buck. I can’t keep you safe if they don’t.”

And once again, Steve didn’t know who he was trying to convince more: himself or Bucky.

Beneath him, his friend moaned as Steve lined up his cock. The Alpha whispered every reassurance he could think of, but still the Omega writhed as he entered him.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” Steve’s voice broke on his best friend’s name. “Oh God, I’m so, so sorry.”

By the time Steve’s knot began to swell, all he could hear were his friend’s hoarse whimpers.

“Easy.” Steve nuzzled the Omega’s sweat-slick neck. “Easy.”

And then, before he could second-guess himself, he bit down on Bucky’s scent gland and buried his teeth in the man’s flesh.

Bucky thrashed beneath him.

Is it as good as you imagined? a sick voice whispered in the back of his mind, and Steve flinched.

This wasn’t what he wanted. Not this. Never this.

At least … not this way.

This may not be the means you wanted, that same voice went on. But you did want the same ends. Him. Your Bucky. You always wanted Bucky. Even when you were too young to understand why. And now you have him. Just like a dream come true.

Or a nightmare.

By the time Steve’s jaw unclenched, Bucky had long since gone still beneath him. The taste of blood and sweat filled Steve’s mouth, but underneath it all was something else. Something strong. Something unique. Something intoxicating.

Steve never imagined anything could ever feel so intoxicating.

The warmth filled his mouth. It spread through the rest of his body. It relaxed his muscles and quieted his mind. With each passing second, more and more of his thoughts drifted away until all he had left was feeling.

So much feeling.

The last shreds of his rationality told him that this was just the bond settling in. He’d heard other Alphas describe it before. The way the world seemed to stop. How all perspective would shift. The sudden flood of new emotions—stronger emotions—and the clarity that always came in their wake.

Steve had heard it all before, but he’d never understood it.

Not until now.

A deep rumble left his chest as raw instinct cut through all the doubt, pain, and grief he’d felt earlier.

“Mine.” The word left his throat before he knew what he was saying. “My Omega. Mine.”

And without thinking, he wrapped his arms around his best friend’s chest, pulling him close and holding him tight as he leaned forward to lap his tongue across the fresh bitemark he’d left on Bucky’s neck.

Beneath him, his Omega just whimpered. But that was okay. This was all okay. Everything would be okay, because Bucky was here. He was his. He was finally his.

Just like he’d always wanted.

From the back of Steve’s mind, a tiny voice screamed that this wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. Bucky wasn’t property. He was a person. He shouldn’t belong to anyone other than himself.

But as much as logic begged him to listen, pure instinct was too strong to ignore.

Mine, his inner Alpha purred. Always mine.

And the thought wiggled its way into Steve’s mind until it was just as much a certainty as all the other truths he lived by.

Time passed.

Steve couldn’t say how much.

At some point, the truck moved. Voices filtered in from outside, but no one stepped in to check on them. They were alone. Just him and Bucky. His Bucky. The two of them were together, just the way they always had been and the way they always would be.

All the way till the end of the line.

Steve smiled as he pressed his lips against his Omega’s still-too-hot neck. Beneath him, Bucky flinched.

“Shh,” Steve whispered into the brunette’s hair. “S’okay, Buck. I’ve gotcha. I’ve gotcha.”

The Alpha’s eyelids drooped. His words slurred together. Just another effect of the bond, he supposed, but a damned annoying one. Especially when he needed to stay awake. He couldn’t protect his mate if he was asleep, and he had to protect his mate.

Nothing mattered more than protecting his mate.

But try as he might, the pull of the bond was too strong to ignore. His head nodded. His breaths evened out. In his arms, Bucky twitched and gasped and groaned, but again, that was okay. Everything was okay. As long as he had has mate, everything would always be okay.

The hell it will, the last embers of his old self whispered, but Steve brushed the warning aside.

Those words belonged to another man in another lifetime. He was different now. The bond was making him different. And when he awoke, something told him the change would be even greater still. Just like when he’d stepped out of the Vita-Ray Chamber months ago, he’d emerge a better man.

Better for who? his old self spoke again, only softer this time, weaker, like it was already slipping away.

And maybe it should.

Steve snuggled in closer as he drifted to sleep.

Everything would work out. It had to. And if fate tried to twist any more of his dreams, he’d twist them right back. After all, he’d never backed down from a fight. And this was worth fighting for. Bucky would always be worth fighting for. No one would take his mate from him and no one would hurt him. He’d fight heaven and hell if he had to, but until his dying breath, he’d keep his Omega safe. He swore it.

And a smile touched his lips, because he suddenly realized that it was only thanks to Dr. Erskine’s gift that he now had all the strength necessary to back up those words.

Well, Doc, I guess that answers my question, he thought as he remembered his doubts from earlier that evening. Looks like your serum was a blessing after all.

Because anything that gave him the power he needed to protect his claim had to be right. It had to be good. Just like his intentions.

And he dared any man to ever try to tell him otherwise.

Chapter Text

November 1943

Pain.

Sometimes Bucky thought that’s all he had left in life.

Just pain, pain, and more pain.

It never ended.

Why the fuck wouldn’t it ever end?

“Enough of that, Sergeant.” He remembered a German voice telling him once when he was close—so close—to chucking off this fucked up life for good. “There will be no dying just yet. Not until the experiment is over.”

Only that was the catch, wasn’t it? There’d be no end until they were done with him. And they were never done with him. No matter how bad it got—no matter how hard he prayed that he could finally just shrivel up and die already—there was just more, more, more.

More needles. More tests. More biopsies.

More hands holding him down. More voices speaking over him. More eyes studying him—always studying him—while that fucking guy with the glasses just kept pumping him full of drugs and those shithead assistants just kept taking their damn notes and all Bucky could do was just lie on that mother fucking table while he screamed and writhed and chanted his name, rank, and serial number over and over and over again until those were the only words he knew. Or at least, they were the only ones he had left. Because Lord knows, words like no and please and stop sure as hell weren’t getting him anywhere. Not with that fucking doctor and sure as hell not with all those Alphas.

Oh God, all those Alphas …

Just thinking about them made his pulse race and his breaths quicken.

Somewhere nearby, he heard a voice. He thought he knew that voice. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, because all he could smell was Alpha. The scent was everywhere. It enveloped him. It surrounded him. It suffocated him.

Good God, did it ever suffocate him.

Each breath was a struggle. He had to fight just to get air. And through it all, that voice wouldn’t stop. It just kept getting louder and louder, only he couldn’t make out a word it was saying. Not when his ears kept pounding and his hands kept shaking and his neck kept throbbing with some new pain that pierced him all the way down to his core.

Oh, fuck, what had those bastards done to him now?

He reached up on reflex—not that he figured it’d do him much good. Those restraints were always there, always holding him down and keeping him still. That fucking doctor required he be still. But for once, when he tried to lift his hand, it actually moved. They both did.

And a second later, so did he.

Bucky bolted out of bed—or at least he tried to. All the restraints were gone. He could move his arms and his legs. He could even sit up. But as soon as he tried to go any farther, hands grabbed him. A face swam in front of his own. More words followed, but they didn’t make any sense. Nothing made sense. Not when all he could focus on was that scent.

That Alpha’s scent.

It filled him up and hollowed him out. Made his mind quiver and his body shake. He’d never felt anything like it before. Never felt this helpless before. All his instincts kept telling him to bare his neck and submit. Omegas were born to submit—their biology demanded it—so what other choice did he have? Even he couldn’t beat his own fucking nature.

But he could damn well try.

So he bared his teeth. He balled his fists. And he fought with all he had. Not that it did him much good. No matter how hard he tried, those hands wouldn’t let go. That scent wouldn’t let up. And that voice just kept getting stronger and stronger and stronger until finally a clear word broke through his haze.

“Stop!” it cried. “Come on, Buck. It’s me. Just calm down and stop fighting. Stop!”

And that was all it took. Just that one word spoken in the right voice.

The Alpha’s Voice.

As soon as the sound hit his ears, Bucky froze. His mind went blank, and his body turned numb. Around him, the rest of the world faded away until all he had left was that word and that voice. He had to obey the Voice. It was all that mattered. It was all that existed. It simultaneously filled him up and swallowed him whole, turning him into nothing and everything all at once until … until …

Until those fucking hands were shaking him so hard it all fell away.

What the fuck?

“Oh God, Buck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Fresh words hit him now, but he was still reeling so hard from that fucking Voice, he could barely make out what they meant. “Come on, buddy. Open your eyes. Just look at me, will ya?”

And that, at least, he could do. But as for what he saw when he did …

Well, that’s it, was Bucky’s first thought. Looks like I’ve finally gone nuts.

Because how else could he explain seeing his best friend’s face plastered on the head of that behemoth currently holding him down?

He laughed at the absurdity of it all, and that just made the giant-that-couldn’t-be-Steve frown even harder.

“Bucky?” The hallucination even sounded like Stevie. But since this whole shit show was cooked up in his own mind, how could it not? “Do you know me?”

And all Barnes could think to do was play along.

“You’re Steve.” The words came out like a croak. “I just …”

“What, Buck?”

“I thought you were smaller.”

And for some reason, Bucky thought that would be it. He figured the mirage would vanish in a puff right then. Only it didn’t disappear. Instead, it just laughed.

His would-be-Steve laughed long and hard.

“I was, Buck,” the doppelganger said. “I was.”

And then the Alpha’s scent changed from scared to relieved to just plain giddy. And all those changes just made Bucky’s head pound and his neck throb even harder.

“This isn’t real,” Barnes muttered to himself. “This can’t be real.”

But as much as he tried to be rational, his damn delusions seemed bound and determined to convince him otherwise.

“Yes, it is.” Giant-Steve gave his wrists a firm squeeze. “You made it, Buck. You got out. You’re safe.”

And in that moment, it all felt so real. Steve’s hands. His voice. That scent. Bucky knew that scent. It was the smell of rusty metal and hot bricks. It was the reminder of a lifetime spent together back when his life had still been his own. It was friendship. It was peace. It was home.

It was Alpha.

His Alpha.

The thought slipped inside Bucky’s mind, and he shook his head to clear it.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice came to him again, only it was wrong.

Everything about this was so, so wrong.

“This can’t be right.” Bucky’s breaths were coming too fast, his heartbeat pounding in time to that steady pain still throbbing against his throat. “None of this makes sense. You can’t be here, Stevie. You’re supposed to be in Brooklyn. And I’m … I’m …”

Memories started to pull him down again, but before they could swamp him, Steve was there, grabbing his head with those giant hands and making him look up at that too-earnest face.

“No, Buck. Come on. Come back to me, pal. You gotta stay with me.”

And Bucky didn’t know what caused it. Maybe it was the scent or the voice or just those words. But before he knew it, he was getting flashes of something else, memories he didn’t even know he had.

There was Steve standing over him in another room, a familiar room, the one with all the needles and knives and pain. Only Steve hadn’t caused him any pain. He’d just stood over him with that same familiar face on that too-big-body while he called his name and begged him not to go.

Like that had ever been up to him.

Zola would never let him off that fucking table. He’d die there. Bucky knew he would die there. Only he hadn’t. Not yet. And for once the straps were gone. Vaguely, he remembered someone ripping them off. Then there were arms. Big arms. He’d been carried in someone’s arms—carried like a fucking dame—while heat scorched his skin and smoke burned his lungs.

But that couldn’t have been right, could it? Surely that was just another delusion from the heat—his heat—because he remembered more hands after that. They’d held him down. They’d made him hurt. They’d opened him up. And then … then …

“Bucky, breathe.”

And once again, there was that voice—Steve’s Alpha Voice—calling him back and calming him down.

Breathe. Obey. Submit.

His nature kept demanding he submit.

The urge was so overwhelming, he could barely deny it. But still, some small voice deep inside himself urged him to hold out. Be strong. He had to be strong. If he wasn’t, only God knew how far this asshole would push him, what he’d make him do or—worse yet—say.

Only … that wasn’t right, was it? This wasn’t just some kraut-eating Alpha come to get in his kicks. This was Steve. His Steve. This had to be his Steve, because as hard as it was to believe the little shrimp he’d left behind in Brooklyn could ever grow into the Goliath towering over him now, it was even harder to believe there was any Alpha other than Stevie who would use his Voice just to calm him and not control him.

Only Steve had that kind of decency. Only he would choose never to cross that divide between right and wrong. And only he would look so damn guilty just because he’d come close to toeing the line.

Fucking punk.

“You with me, buddy?” his best friend asked, and all Bucky could do was take a deep breath and nod.

If something had to be real, he’d much rather it be this than the hell playing out in his head. But still, Steve wasn’t the only one who didn’t like to run away from a fight. And Bucky would be damned if he let his own cowardice cheat him out of the truth even now.

So, licking his lips, Bucky looked Steve straight in the eye and asked him the one question he really needed to know. “How?”

But the Alpha just frowned. “How what, Buck?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Bucky wanted to say, but his expression alone must have been enough to get his point across, because a grin cut across Steve’s face and he lifted up both hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay, cut me a break, jerk.” He chuckled. “I’m going on close to three days with no sleep, so I’m not exactly at the top of my game.”

Then he ran a hand over his face and let out a long, deep breath.

“Tell you what, maybe it’d be best if I just started at the beginning. You remember that night at the Stark Expo?”

And all Bucky could do was listen as Steve caught him up on everything that’d been going on in his life for the past six months. He heard all about Erskine and Carter, Phillips and Stark. Steve told him about how he’d climbed inside some chamber as a ninety-pound nothing and come out the “Super Soldier” he was now. Then there was the murder, the chase, the days spent being poked and prodded by Phillips’ men until Steve had eventually taken some senator’s offer and got turned into the national icon he was today.

Captain America.

He’d become a guy who wore tights and sold bonds all across the country. He’d knocked out Adolph Hitler over 200 times. And he even had a fucking comic book to prove it.

What the hell?

Bucky was still trying to wrap his head around all that shit when Steve finally got to the part about how he’d ended up in Europe and heard what happened to the 107^th. More dumbass shit followed. There was catching a ride on a plane piloted by none other than Howard Stark himself, then parachuting into Nazi-occupied Austria, and of course storming a fucking enemy base without any damn backup at all.

Like any of that shit could ever happen. This was crazy. Bucky was crazy. He took back everything he’d ever said about all this being real, because it couldn’t be. Not a chance. Everything he’d just heard was even more far-fetched than all that oddball gadget fiction he used to read in the magazines back home. It was insane. It was nuts. It was—

“Pretty strange, I know.” Steve made the understatement of the century. “But it was real, Buck. All of it. I promise.”

And as much as Bucky didn’t want to believe him, Steve had never once reneged on a promise. Not in real life and certainly not in his dreams. So if there was one thing he could believe in, there was that.

Besides, he had to believe in something, right? So why the hell not this?

Still, that didn’t make taking it all in any easier.

“So let me get this straight.” Bucky put a hand over his eyes as he tried to make sense of it all. “You signed up for some top-secret project nobody’s ever heard of then willingly volunteered to let some crazy German scientist experiment on you? What the fuck, Steve? I thought I told you not to do anything stupid while I was gone.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Steve shot back. “Just look at me, Buck. I’m the picture of health.”

“And what if it hadn’t, Steve? Christ, did you ever stop to think about that?”

But all Steve did was shrug. “A little, I guess. But you know, I just figured the way I was, I didn’t have much to lose if things went south.”

And all Bucky could do was gape, because as crazy as that shit sounded, Barnes knew Steve actually believed every word he’d just said.

Didn’t have much to lose? You stupid, fucking punk.

But Bucky had to clamp down on that line of thinking right there, because if he didn’t, he doubted he’d ever let it go. So he took a deep breath and switched gears.

“Did it hurt” he asked.

And again, Steve shrugged. “A little.”

“Is it permanent.”

“So far.”

Great. So now they were in two-word-answer territory. As if Bucky had any patience left for that.

Barnes shook his head, but that just made his neck throb even more. Still, at least the pain was something to focus on. Because if all he had to think about were Steve’s words ….

Fuck.

Just … fuck.

Damn it, Steve, you couldn’t even wait for me to ship out before you went and did the dumbest damn thing in your whole fucking life?

Because as much as Steve might try to shrug it off, signing up to be the Army’s pet science project was dumb. Really dumb. And if dumbass Steve thought he could go through all this shit without there being any fucking price to pay, he was even dumber still. Because everything had a price. Everything. And when it came to the US Army, that price usually involved your blood or someone else’s.

And the way Stevie was talking, it’s like he didn’t even have a clue.

As if he ever did.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. This was all too much to wrap his head around. It was just too fucking much, and he was too fucking broken. He felt brittle down to his bones, like he’d been fucked to all hell—and if memory served, he actually had—and still, that damn pain in his neck wouldn’t leave him alone.

He reached up to rub it, but as soon as his fingers touched his flesh, all he could focus on was the feel of jagged, puckered skin right above his scent gland.

And that’s when the rest of existence just stopped.

Oh God.

Oh God.

His hands shook. The room turned hazy. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t get enough air. Where the fuck was all the air?

And through it all, a pair of big fucking hands that did and didn’t belong to his best friend kept shaking him like a doll.

“Bucky. Bucky, look at me. It’s okay.”

As if anything about being claimed could possibly be okay.

“He said they couldn’t do this, Steve.” Words fell out of his mouth before Bucky could stop them. “That doctor. Zola. I hated him. God, I hated him. But he made sure they couldn’t bite me. He made sure I stayed unbonded. But somebody did it, Steve. Oh, God, somebody took me and … and …”

“Bucky, calm down.” Steve grabbed Barnes’ face in those giant hands of it his. “It’s okay. I swear it’s okay. It was just me.”

Barnes frowned. “You?”

“Yeah ...” Steve started, and a grimace flashed across his face. “The bondmark. I … It’s mine.

And even though Bucky heard the words, he still couldn’t understand them.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

“Wait. You …” Bucky struggled for words, because this couldn’t be right. He had to be wrong. Please God, let him be wrong. “You claimed me?”

But instead of a denial, all he got from Steve was a slow, small nod.

“You were dying, Buck. You’d been in heat for nine days. You were so hot …. God, we didn’t even know if you’d still be you until you woke up. If you woke up”

“So what?” Bucky shot back. “You just figured biting me would make it all better?”

Steve flinched, but he didn’t back down. Of course he didn’t back down. He never backed down when he thought he was right.

No matter how fucked up his reasoning might be.

“We were out of options, Buck, and the medic … He thought a bond might help. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. I still didn’t want to do it. Not with you so out of it like that. But I couldn’t just let you die. And after everything Monty said ….”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed.

Barnes would have to ask the Englishman about just what he’d said. He’d have to ask him about a whole fucking lot. But right now, it was all he could do to hold back the bile as fresh memories swept through his mind.

Those hands. That body. The rough smack of flesh against flesh as someone rode him. And then those teeth.

Steve’s teeth.

“You raped me,” he whispered, and Steve flinched so hard Buck wouldn’t have been surprised if the guy had just snapped a tendon.

“I was only trying to help you, Buck.” The Alpha’s eyes were as big as saucers. “I swear. I just wanted to help.”

“By making me your property?”

And again, Steve cringed. “You’re not— You know I’d never think of you like that.”

“Doesn’t matter what you think, Steve.” Bucky swallowed. “That’s still what I am. As far as the rest of the world’s concerned, I’m just your Omega now. And you can fuck me and use me and breed me whenever you like.”

“Damn it, Bucky, you know I’d never—”

But then Steve’s hand was reaching out and his body was leaning forward, and all Bucky could think to do was shout “Don’t touch me!” and that was enough to send the Alpha shrinking back towards the wall.

Several minutes passed before Bucky’s breathing finally evened out.

“God, Buck, you don’t know how sorry I am,” was all Steve could say.

Only Bucky did.

The bond made damn well sure he did.

Shame and grief. Self-hatred and doubt. The feelings swam through Steve’s scent, rolling off the Alpha’s body and churning around the room until Bucky felt like he was drowning in a sea of fucking angst.

Forgive, the bond urged him. Submit. Appease.

Please.

He was supposed to please his Alpha. Part of him even wanted to please his Alpha. And that’s what scared him the most. Those instincts. That desire. He shouldn’t have any desire. Not when it came to Steve. But as much as his mind kept telling him that this was his best friend he was talking about—and Stevie really was just his friend—his body refused to listen. All it took was a lungful of those pheromones, and Bucky’s cock throbbed. Fresh slick wet the sheets.

Damn it, what was wrong with him? He didn’t want this. Not now. Not after everything he’d been through—especially not after everything he’d been through—but still, his body refused to listen. And it was all because of the bond.

That damn, fucking bond.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut as the raw pull of it left him nauseous and weak. But no matter how much his instincts screamed and his body begged, he didn’t give in. He couldn’t. And it was all thanks to Sarah Rogers’ warning that he still had enough strength left to hold out.

A bondmark is nothing but a collar, James, he remembered Steve’s ma telling him years ago. It’ll suffocate you if you let it. But as long as you fight, you’ll still have a chance. It’s only when you give in that it gets tighter. So hold out as long as you can.

And that’s exactly what he intended to do. Hold out. Fight. He’d always sworn, if this day came, he’d fight. He just never figured he’d have to fight Steve.

Why the hell did it have to be Steve?

“Just tell me what to do, Buck.” The Alpha hadn’t moved any closer, but his scent …. Oh God, his scent was so thick with guilt, Bucky could barely swallow it down. “Please, just tell me how to fix this.”

But all Bucky could think to say was, “I don’t know.”

And then came more silence and tension and sorrow until Steve finally broke it all by asking the one question that Bucky had been dreading all along.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Buck?”

Barnes closed his eyes.

“We’re supposed to be best friends,” Steve said, and Bucky cringed even more. “We always said we’d tell each other everything, and you couldn’t even tell me your real designation?”

“It shouldn’t matter, Steve.”

“But it does,” the Alpha snapped, and Barnes flinched before he could stop himself. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. I just … You don’t know what it was like, Bucky. Walking into that room. Smelling that scent—your scent—but not knowing it was you until I was looking down at that table and there you were, half outta your mind and sick with heat.”

Steve let out a long, shaky breath, and when Bucky opened his eyes, all he could see was the Alpha, still slumped against the far wall, his body trembling and his head cupped in one hand while his eyes …. His eyes were still trained solely on Barnes. And try as he might, Bucky couldn’t look away. Not when over two decades of friendship held him firmly in place.

“You could have died, Buck.”

And the Omega just snorted. “Probably would have been better off if I had.”

Which had to be the worst thing he could have ever said, because that just brought on a whole new torrent of shock and anger and pain from the Alpha. Bucky swore he could feel every last ounce of Steve’s pain. He could smell it in the Alpha’s scent, could feel it flowing into him through the bond.

Damn it, Steve, he wanted to say. Calm down.

Only Bucky couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. Not when there was so much coming at him all at once.

His mind reeled from the onslaught.

There was a sadness beyond sadness that tore through his chest, a righteous fury that ignited his blood, and at least a thousand pounds of guilt that pressed down on his bones, the weight of it threatening to bury him alive.

But worse than all of that was the hurt.

Steve’s hurt.

Every last bit of this hurt Steve. From Bucky’s deception to the bonding itself, it hurt the Alpha every bit as deep as it hurt Bucky himself. There was no denying it. No escaping it. Not with the bond amplifying everything his friend—no, his mate (Oh God, Steve was his mate.)—felt.

And that was just too much.

All of this was just too fucking much.

Pressing his palms against his eyes, Bucky struggled to focus through all the confusion as well as the need—sweet Lord, he’d never felt such need—to please his mate.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he muttered, and then Steve was there, hovering over him again, and all Bucky could do was swallow down his own bile before snapping at the Alpha to “back the fuck off!” one more time.

“I can’t do this shit, Steve. Not right now. I just …. I can’t talk about this shit right now.”

“Well, that’s too bad son.” A new voice spoke up from the room’s now-open doorway. “Cause as much as I’d like to give you a break, I’m afraid the Army don’t have that kind of time to spare.”

And all Bucky could do was gape as Colonel Chester Phillips himself entered the room followed by two other officers even higher-ranking than himself as well as a knockout of a dame, a doctor, and a pair of MP’s that took up guard duty outside the door.

Talk about overkill.

From the other side of his bed, Bucky could hear the growl already rumbling through Steve’s chest. A surge of protective instincts roared through the bond, but Bucky wasn’t fool enough to think they’d do any good. Because as much as Steve’s inner Alpha might be telling him to fight for his claim, he wasn’t up against some back-alley brawler or even a whole battalion of enemy troops.

In front of them now stood what might as well amount to the whole damn US government. And every law Bucky’d broken, every oath he’d sworn in vain, these would be the men sent to hold him accountable.

And to think Stevie risked his stupid, punk life just to bring me back for this.

The irony was almost enough to make Bucky laugh.

Almost.

But even though Steve might be willing to flout the chain-of-command, all those months of bootcamp had beaten all the insubordination right out of Barnes. So he pulled himself up. He sat at attention—as much as he could, anyway. And he tried his damnedest to be the best fucking sergeant those assholes had ever seen.

After all, if he was about to lose his rank, he damn well intended to go out on a high note. No begging. No crying. He’d take it like a man just like he’d always sworn he would.

He just wished he could face the firing squad standing up. But since no one had been good enough to give him any pants, he doubted he’d win any points by pulling his bare ass out of bed.

It’d at least give them something to remember you by. He almost smirked at the thought. But by then all the players were taking their places. The dame had already drawn out her pen, ready to take notes. And Phillips was laying it on thick to Rogers, ordering the Alpha to stand down so the debrief could take place.

As if anyone actually believed this would be as simple as a standard debrief.

Still, if that’s how the old man wanted to play it, fine. Let him. Steve might fall for the show, but Barnes knew better.

So he took a deep breath, and he squared his shoulders.

Like it or not, the men in this room would be his judge and his jury. And one way or another, they’d decide his future today. He just hoped Steve wised up before his big, dumb mouth got him in trouble. Because no matter what Phillips was telling him, Bucky knew the truth. The trial of one James Buchanan Barnes was about to begin.

And the verdict could only ever go one way.

Chapter Text

November 1943

Steve watched Phillips’ men surround Bucky’s bedside. He saw his best friend take a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. He smelled the nerves and the fear souring the Omega’s scent. And he felt the unease coursing through their bond no matter how hard his mate might try to hide it.

Rogers didn’t even realize he was growling until Phillips had to tell him to cut the show.

“Sir,” Steve said when he’d finally managed to wrangle back his inner Alpha, “with all due respect, don’t you think it’s a little early for a debrief? He just woke up.”

“Which means he’s conscious,” Phillips said. “And as long as he’s conscious, he can talk.”

“But sir—” Steve started, only to feel Bucky grab him by the wrist as soon as he got close.

“Steve, don’t,” his friend hissed, and Phillips just raised an eyebrow.

“Might want to listen to your Omega on this one, Rogers,” the colonel said.

But Steve wouldn’t have it. Even if Bucky didn’t want his help—even if the Omega didn’t want him—he wasn’t about to just stand back and let the man get victimized again.

“He’s in no condition for an interrogation,” Steve said, “so whatever you have to say can wait.”

“Oh really?” Phillips faked a chuckle. “Tell you what, Rogers, you might want to brush up on your chain of command, because the last time I checked, captains didn’t go around giving orders to colonels.”

And once again, Bucky urged him to let it go.

“I can do this,” he said. “I’m fine.”

Only Steve knew the Omega wasn’t fine. Not now and probably not for a long time to come.

But still, if that’s the way Bucky wanted to play it, Steve couldn’t bring himself to tell him no. After all, he’d taken enough choices away from the Omega already. He couldn’t bring himself to take any more.

“Whatever you say, Buck.”

Steve took a step back, and as soon as he did, the colonel turned his attention back to Barnes.

“Alright then, Sergeant, let’s get this show started.” Phillips gestured to the men beside him. “This is General Ross and General Talbot. They’ll be taking part in your debrief today. And as for Dr. Connors, he’ll be chiming in with any medical questions that might come up along the way. Is that clear, son?”

Bucky nodded.

Then the inquisition began.

Phillips and his men asked Bucky about every last detail they could, their questions stretching all the way from the attack at Azzano until the moment Steve had pulled him off that damn table in Austria. Not that the Omega was clear on much after he’d reached Kreischberg. Heats had a way of affecting an Omega’s mind, and Bucky’s heat had been like nothing Steve had ever heard of. The sheer fact that he’d survived at all should have been miracle enough. But still, the officers kept pressing and pressing. And with each passing minute, their questions just became more and more invasive.

How many men do you estimate were stationed at the Kreischberg facility? … What was Schmidt’s primary objective? … Where did they take you after you were separated from the other men? …  How many men took you while you were in heat? … Do you remember their names? … Ranks? … Did the officers talk while they were using you? … What tactical information do you remember overhearing? … Did Schmidt take a turn with you? … What details can you recall about the Red Skull? … What can you tell us about Dr. Arnim Zola? … Why did the Beta take such an interest in you? … Rogers said he found you strapped to a table. What happened to you while you were there? … What were you given? … Describe how it made you feel. … Were you interrogated? … What information did you give up? … If the doctor didn’t want information, what did he want? … What was his objective? … What did he say while you were conscious? …  Can you recall the names of any drugs, procedures, instruments?

And through it all, Bucky just kept giving answer after answer, even though Steve could see the toll it was taking on the man.

Already, a thin sheen of sweat covered the Omega’s skin. A tremor had taken up residence in the man’s hands no matter how hard Bucky tried to hide it. And his scent …

Damn it.

Couldn’t those other Alphas smell the terror and the pain saturating his Omega’s scent?

“I think he’s already told you everything he remembers,” Steve snapped after he had to listen to Bucky say, “I don’t know,” yet again to the same question Ross had already asked at least three times before. “So unless you have anything else you need to know—”

“Oh, believe me, Captain, there’s plenty we still need to know.” Dr. Connors flipped through the file in his hands before turning back to Bucky. “I have it here that you were drafted in July of ’42, Sergeant. How many heats have you had since then?”

And that drew Steve up short.

“Drafted?” Rogers turned to Barnes. “I thought you said you enlisted.”

But instead of agreeing, Bucky’s lips just twitched with a smirk.

“No, you’re the one who thought I signed up,” Bucky corrected. “I just went along with it.”

Steve frowned. But before he could say another word, Phillips was threatening to kick him out if he interrupted again and Connors was ordering Bucky to answer the question.

“Just the one, sir,” Bucky said softly. “At Kreischberg.”

“And it lasted nine days?” Connors asked.

To which Bucky shrugged. “I guess. You’d know better than me.”

“And what about before that?” Connors went on. “How long do your heats typically last?”

Again, another shrug. “I don’t know. Never had one before.”

Silence followed.

Steve glanced around at the faces watching Bucky, but all he saw were stony looks and cold disbelief. Not a one thought the Omega was telling the truth; that much was clear. Even Agent Carter, the only ally Steve thought they might have, had arched an incredulous eyebrow.

“Bucky …” Steve tried to warn, but then the doctor was talking over him.

“Come now, Sergeant,” Connors said. “You don’t really expect us to believe that you didn’t present until you were twenty-six-years-old, now do you?”

“Look, I’m not saying I never presented,” Bucky said. “I’m just saying I never had a heat.”

The doctor sighed. “Sergeant, upon presentation, all Omegas enter their first heat. It’s a hallmark of the event. The two always go hand in hand.”

“Not if you take enough suppressants to stop it first.”

And again, the room turned silent. Only this time, instead of incredulity, all Steve could smell was shock as well as the bitter hint of outrage. For a while, not a single person knew what to say. But out of everyone present, Phillips recovered first.

“So let me get this straight, son,” the old Alpha stepped forward. “You’re saying you took suppressants to stop your first heat?”

Bucky nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“And you got those pills where, exactly?”

And for the first time since his interrogation began, Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes just flashed to Steve before turning to the floor.

“Now come on, son,” Phillips prodded. “It’s gonna come out sooner or later. Did your parents give them to you?”

“What? No!” Shock tainted Bucky’s scent. “My family still thinks I’m a Beta. They didn’t know. I couldn’t let them know. That’s why I moved out as soon as I could.”

“Then who?” Ross asked, and after several more minutes of threats and prompting, Bucky finally told them.

“It was another Omega, okay?”

“’Fraid you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Phillips said.

So Bucky did.

Reluctantly.

Steve could feel his own stomach clenching as the Omega told them all about the day he’d presented back when he was fifteen-years-old. Bucky described how he’d woken up feeling sick one morning, but he’d just figured it was a stomach bug, so he’d left home anyway. He hadn’t realized he was going into heat until he’d made it several blocks down the street. By then, of course, he’d been all alone. There’d been no one to help him and no one to report him. So he’d knocked on the door of the closest neighbor he knew, and the woman he met had brought him inside and taken care of him.

“By offering you suppressants?” Connors asked.

Bucky snorted. “I don’t think I was in the right state for anyone to offer me anything. I just remember her putting something in my mouth, and I swallowed it. When I woke up the next day, my heat was gone. She told me what she’d done then and offered to share her pills with me afterwards, so I took her up on it.”

“You took her up on it …” Connors still couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around what he’d just heard. “So you really never did have a heat?”

“No.”

“You’ve been on continual suppressant therapy since the day you first presented?”

Bucky shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“Without any breaks?” the doctor asked.

The omega shook his head. “No.”

“And you had no breakthrough symptoms at all?”

“No. Well …” Bucky frowned. “I mean, there might’ve been some, I guess.”

“Such as …” Connors prompted.

“I don’t know. Just nausea sometimes. Every now and then scents would hit me the wrong way. But otherwise not much. I mean, there was this one time in Basic when I woke up and could smell my own scent coming through, but I just downed a couple more pills, and it all went away. So there wasn’t really much to that.”

“Not much to …” Connors took a long, deep breath before muttering something under his breath. “And I’m guessing any time you felt another breakthrough coming on, you did the same. Am I correct?”

“If you’re asking whether I took an extra dose here or there, then yeah,” Bucky said. “I just figured out of all those pills I was carrying, some of them had to be duds, so what’s the harm in doubling up every now and then?”

The doctor’s left eye twitched.

“What’s the harm?” Connors snorted. “Actually, there’s a lot of harm, Sergeant. Especially to you.”

And then the doctor listed off all the ways Bucky’s overdosing could have possibly poisoned, crippled, or killed him, and all Steve could do was try not to throw up.

Oh God, Buck.

Every single worst-case-scenario was there. Heart-attack and stroke. Blood clots, aneurysm, and coma.

Even death.

From what Connors was saying, if Bucky had kept taking those pills, he could have died—he could have very easily died—and the Omega didn’t even seem to care.

“Well, I’m fine now,” Bucky said, “so it obviously didn’t cause too much harm.”

“And you don’t think having a nine-day-long heat could be considered harm?” the doctor shot back. “Christ, it’s no wonder your symptoms were so severe, especially if you’d been on continual suppressant use for ten years.”

“Eleven and a half, actually,” Bucky pointed out before adding a hastily placed “sir” at the end.

And all Connors could do was close his eyes and take another long, deep breath.

“Eleven and a half.” The man shook his head. “Eleven and a fucking half.” Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard a doctor curse so vehemently. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to yourself? Your hormones, your biology, your mentality, they’re all intertwined. Even if you don’t feel anything now, this level of suppressant abuse is bound to have lasting effects. I’m talking physical decline, mental instability, even infertility. God, I can only imagine what this must have done to your fertility. You’ve already been robbed of your most fertile years anyway. It’ll be a miracle if you’re able to conceive at all.”

“No big loss there,” Bucky muttered, and Connors just narrowed his eyes.

“You say that now, Sergeant, but just wait until your hormones readjust,” the doctor said. “I’m sure you’ll be singing a different tune then—assuming you still have enough of a mind left to sing at all.”

And that statement alone was enough to send a chill through Steve’s veins. But coupled with everything else the doctor had already mentioned …

You could have died, Buck, was all Steve could think. You really could have died. And all because somebody fed you poison when you were still a kid.

No, not just somebody.

An Omega.

Probably the only other Omega either one of them had ever known.

And that realization was damn near enough to upend Steve’s whole world.

The Alpha was so distracted by his own thoughts, he barely heard Ross questioning Bucky again. The general kept demanding a name, someone the government could prosecute for corrupting its youth. Just blaming this whole mess on an Omega would do no good. Someone had to pay, and Ross swore he’d see they did.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the Omega, she ….” Bucky bit his lip. “Sharing her name wouldn’t do any good. The Omega who helped me, she’s not around anymore. She died years ago.”

“A likely story,” Ross said. “Listen to me, Sergeant, I’ll only warn you this once. I won’t tolerate any more lies. So you’d better start telling the truth.”

“I am, sir,” Bucky said.

And before the general could doubt him any further, Steve was there to back him up.

“He’s not lying, General.” Steve took a deep breath before turning back to the Omega. “It’s okay, Buck. You don’t have to cover for her.”

“Steve …”

But the Alpha had already come this far. He’d be damned if he backed down now.

“It was my ma, wasn’t it?” Steve’s throat felt like it was closing up. “She’s the one who did that to you.”

Bucky ducked his head.

“She helped me, Steve.” The Omega’s voice was barely above a whisper. “She didn’t have to, but she did.”

And that just broke Steve’s heart even more.

“Damn it, Buck, you heard what the doctor said. She didn’t help you. She poisoned you. If Ma hadn’t given you one of those pills to begin with—”

“What, Steve?” Bucky snapped. “What do you think would have happened? I’d have gone into heat? Gotten raped by the nearest Alpha that smelled me? Or—and this is the best-case scenario I can think of—I’d have made it home only to have my pa sell me off to whatever Alpha came in with the highest bid? Does that sound about right to you? Cause it sure as hell does to me.”

By the time Bucky finished, his chest was heaving, the room was quiet, and Steve couldn’t think of a word to say.

“Look, I don’t expect you to get it,” Bucky said. “No Alpha can. Because unless you’ve been standing there, covered in your own slick and knowing you’re about to lose everyone and everything you’ve ever cared about, you can’t possibly understand how willing you’d be to take any out you can. So yeah, maybe those pills shaved a few years off my life. But you know what? I don’t care. Cause I’d gladly take those eleven years of freedom she gave me over the lifetime I woulda got being somebody else’s slave.”

Then he snorted

“Not that any of that matters now,” the Omega muttered. “Not since I got this.”

And Steve couldn’t help but cringe as he watched Bucky gesture to the bondmark on his neck.

His bondmark.

“Bucky …” Steve started. But before he could get another word out, Ross had already moved in and cut him off.

“As moving as your little speech may be, Sergeant, I still find it hard to believe that one female Omega could have possibly supplied you with enough suppressants to have lasted all these years,” the general said. “So I’m going to ask you again: who else was involved? How far has this spread through the ranks? And how many other Omegas like yourself do I need to worry about popping up in my Army?”

“Other Omegas?” Bucky frowned. “What? You think this is some kind of conspiracy? Sir, the only one involved in all this mess is me. And I can guarantee you I wouldn’t have entered the Army if the government hadn’t drafted me first.”

“But you did enter,” General Talbot spoke up for the first time, “despite being fully aware that if you were to cease using your suppressants, the resultant heat would have been enough to incapacitate every Alpha you were serving with. Is this correct?”

“Well, I mean, I guess I knew, but—”

“And if you just so happened to run out, say, during a strategic battle,” Talbot went on, “such an incident could have yielded an overwhelming advantage to the enemy.”

Bucky shook his head. “Sir, if you’re asking whether I’d sabotage my own troops, then the answer is no. I’d never do that.”

“So you’re claiming you haven’t already?”

Bucky blinked. “Excuse me?”

“At Azzano,” Talbot pressed on. “Schmidt’s forces issued a surprise attack, yet you and the men serving directly under you were able to escape untouched despite the fact that a certain Private Juniper was so ill you had to personally drag him across the battlefield. How do you explain this?”

“Luck, I guess.”

“Luck?” Talbot raised an eyebrow. “Or prior intel? Could it be that you were aware that an attack was about to take place? Your corporal likes to wear a bowler hat during battle, I hear. That’s certainly not standard regulation, but it would make it easy for the enemy to mark your group as you move across field. Perhaps that could explain why no shells were fired in your direction.”

“No shells?” Bucky’s eyes looked half-wild as he stared the general down. “What the fuck do you mean ‘no shells’? There were shells everywhere. Shells and bullets and those damn blue-light rays. I still can’t tell you how the hell we made it out of there. Shit, sometimes I can’t even believe we did. But I do know one thing, we didn’t make it out because I’m some kind of fucking spy, sir. I’m a sergeant in the US Army. I wouldn’t do that to my men.”

“Then you’re claiming the timing between the attack at Azzano and your resultant heat shortly thereafter was not intentional?”

“Intentional?” Bucky looked back at Steve. “What the hell is going on here? I wouldn’t try to go into heat on purpose.” He turned back to Talbot. “Christ, what do you think I was looking to do? Get raped?”

“More like get extracted,” Talbot shot back. “Because what better cover could you have possibly asked for? Schmidt’s men may have captured you, Sergeant, but you were just one of a great many prisoners of war. It would have been suspicious had they separated you early on. But if you were to wait, say, a few days, then mysteriously—and publicly—go into heat, what better excuse to separate you from the herd while still maintaining your cover?”

Bucky’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Not that the Alpha could blame him. Between the revelation about his own ma as well as this whole line of nonsense, Steve’s own head felt like it was spinning, too. But still, he wasn’t about to let his own confusion cripple him now. Not when his best friend still needed him.

“Look, General.” Steve’s words came out as deep as a growl. “I’ve known Bucky Barnes my whole life. He’s no traitor.”

“Then you must be aware that Sergeant Barnes’ mother is of direct Romanian descent.” Talbot raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying there’s no chance that the grandson of a woman who’s currently living in an Axis-controlled country could have no split allegiance?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve narrowed his eyes. “When it comes to Bucky Barnes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve held the general’s gaze, neither one of them willing to give an inch. But before Talbot could even open his mouth to argue, Phillips stepped in to cut through the tension.

“Well, I can see this is getting us a whole lot of nowhere,” the colonel said. “Sirs, if I may, I’ve gone over the sergeant’s record through and through. And based upon that and the testimony of the men, I don’t see any reason to believe his story is anything other than he says it is.”

“I agree.” Agent Carter spoke up for the first time. “Just listening to his testimony, I’ve detected no hint of subterfuge. And as the man’s Alpha, I’m sure Captain Rogers could detect any lies through their bond.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Bucky isn’t lying.”

“Be that as it may, Captain—” Ross’s voice hung on the word. “—as a matter of national security, I’m afraid we’ll need more assurance than that.” Ross turned to Connors. “Doctor, in your opinion, is this man fit for questioning?”

Steve frowned. Questioning? All these men had done was question—no, more like interrogate—Bucky for the past forty-five minutes. Rogers couldn’t possibly imagine what more they could ask.

But despite Steve’s confusion, all the doctor did was nod.

“I don’t see it causing any lasting harm,” Connors said. “Besides, he’ll have to deal with it soon enough. Might as well get used to it now.”

And that just made Steve’s stomach twist even more. As for the Omega …

“What the hell?” Bucky glanced around at the men gathered in front of him, his professionalism from earlier completely forgotten. “Way you guys are talking, sounds like you’re planning on torturing me.”

“Hardly, Sergeant,” Ross brushed aside the notion. “We just need to ensure that you’re telling the truth. That’s why General Talbot here will be reconducting your interview, only this time he’ll be using his Voice. All you have to do—”

“No.”

General Ross stopped short. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Bucky repeated. “I ain’t doing that. I already told you the truth. You don’t wanna believe me, then fine. Lock me up if you have to. But I ain’t listening to another Alpha’s Voice.”

“Is there something you’re trying to hide, Sergeant?” Talbot raised an eyebrow, but Bucky just shook his head.

He shook it hard.

“Like I said, I got nothing to hide. I just can’t do that. Not again. Not after ….”

Then the Omega snapped his mouth shut and stared down at the sheets, but Steve could still see the barely-suppressed tremors shaking his body. He could feel the terror through the bond. And he could smell the man’s fear in the air.

Damn it, every last one of those officers were Alphas. Couldn’t they see what they were doing to Buck? Didn’t they care?

But from the look on Ross’s face, Steve figured he could hazard a guess.

“I’m afraid you don’t have any say in the matter, Sergeant.” Ross gestured to the general beside him. “Talbot, if you’ll—”

“No.” Steve stepped forward. “You heard what he said. He doesn’t want this. So if you’re looking for the truth, you’re gonna have to find another way to get it, because this ends here.”

And again, the room turned so quiet all Steve could hear was his best friend’s too-fast breathing.

Across from him, Ross’s eyes narrowed.

“Captain, just because your Omega is caught up in histrionics does not give you the right—”

“With all due respect, General—” Steve held the general’s gaze. “—I believe I have every right. Because as you just pointed out, sir, Bucky is my Omega. And as his Alpha, it’s up to me to decide what’s in his best interest. And this ain’t it.”

A surge of annoyed pheromones followed.

Already, the doctor was grumbling about misplaced authority and unauthorized bonding. Talbott, Ross, and Phillips had turned away to converse quietly amongst themselves while Carter stepped up and actually suggested that perhaps another means of verification should take place.

But even though Steve knew he should be paying attention to the conversations occurring around him, all he could focus on was Bucky’s hand lightly squeezing his arm.

“Thanks,” the Omega whispered, and Steve found himself smiling despite the hell still swarming around them.

“Anytime, Buck. You know I’ve always got your back.”

And something warm shot through their bond as Bucky flashed a brief smile, too. But before Steve could examine it any closer, Ross’s voice was already dragging him back to the fight ahead.

“Your objection has been noted, Colonel. But as I’ve already stated, this is a matter of national security.” Then the general turned back to Steve. “Captain, I understand how strongly your instincts must be affecting you right now, but that’s still no excuse for insubordination. I’ll let it pass this once, but if you question my orders again, I’ll have you arrested and thrown in the stockade on the spot. Am I clear?”

“Sir—”

“No.” Bucky’s hand grabbed Steve by the arm again, only this time his grip was tighter, more forceful. “It’s okay, Steve.” Barnes looked like he had to force out the words. “Just let ’em do it.”

“Bucky …”

“I said it’s fine,” the Omega repeated. “They’re gonna do it anyway. Might as well get it over with now and be done with it.”

Which just made Steve want to fight even harder, because no matter how emotionless Bucky kept his words, Steve could still smell the fear simmering just underneath.

“There really are other options,” Carter started, only to have Ross cut her off before she could voice her ideas.

“I think it’d be best if you excused yourself for this, Agent,” the general told her. “You can send one of my aides in to take your place.”

“Yes, sir.” Peggy’s lips tightened into a single, hard line, but she did flash Steve one last fleeting look of remorse before taking her leave.

“Captain.” She nodded to Rogers before passing through the door. “Sergeant.” Her gaze hung on Bucky a moment longer.

And then she was gone, and another Alpha stepped in to take her place.

Why did Bucky have to be surrounded by nothing but Alphas?

“Please, General,” Steve tried one more time. “There has to be a better way than this. After everything Sergeant Barnes has been through, the last thing he needs is to have another stranger messing with his mind.”

But for once, instead of arguing, the older Alpha actually paused to consider Steve’s words.

“Maybe you’re right, Captain,” Ross said. “Perhaps we shouldn’t rely on a stranger. As the man’s bondmate, the Voice would certainly have a much stronger effect if it came from you.”

Steve blinked. “Me?”

Then Ross and Talbot were coaching him on what to say while Phillips just stood there and frowned and Connors did nothing but nod along. Through it all though, Steve’s attention kept turning back to Bucky. The Omega didn’t say a word. He didn’t even move. He just sat there staring down at his lap while all the Alphas in the room decided his fate for him. Only his scent and the painful twang thrumming through their bond betrayed his fear.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Steve said when the generals were done. And once again, Ross brought up insubordination.

But still, Steve held his ground.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” Rogers said, only to have Bucky’s quiet voice cut him off.

“Just do it, Steve.”

“Bucky?”

“Please.” The Omega closed his eyes and swallowed. “Just. Do. It.”

So what other choice did he have?

Talbot restarted the interrogation again. Only this time, at the end of each question, Steve would use his Voice to add “Answer him” and “Tell the truth.” And of course, that’s what Bucky would do. That’s all he could do.

And Steve was the whole reason why.

I’m so sorry, the Alpha wanted to say, but for now, he held his tongue. Apologies could wait until this Godforsaken mess was over. And Steve couldn’t wait until it was over. Just having to stand there, silent and still, while he watched what his words were doing to his friend was a private hell all unto itself.

Steve’s breath shook.

Already, Bucky’s eyes were glazed and distant, his shoulders slumped. Each answer he gave came out cold and hollow, as if all his personality had already been choked out of him. And when Steve prodded their bond—

The Alpha flinched.

Steve knew he didn’t have much to go by. The two of them hadn’t been joined for long. But ever since Bucky had woken up, Steve had felt a distinct presence alongside his own. The Omega’s side of the bond had thrummed loud and strong, its beat resonating in time to each shift in the man’s mood and scent. But now …

“Are you sure he’s alright?” Steve cut in. “He just feels so … empty.”

And as much as Steve hated to put it that way, he didn’t know how else to describe it. Because as vacant as Bucky’s gaze might be, the Omega’s side of the bond was just as toneless as the man’s voice.

“Dissociation is a common occurrence during times like these, Captain.” Connors said as he stepped forward to check Bucky’s vitals. “Though the sergeant does appear to be experiencing it to a much deeper degree than I’ve normally seen.”

“Is there a problem, Doc?” Phillips asked, but after a short pause, Connors just shook his head.

“I don’t think so.” The doctor said. “His pupils and pulse are a little sluggish, but other than that he seems fine.”

“You think this is fine?” Steve couldn’t help but ask, and the physician just raised an eyebrow.

“For a newly-bonded Omega? Absolutely. And to be honest, I’m rather glad to see he’s responding so strongly. Some males can be quite resistant to training, but this one seems fairly malleable.”

Steve blinked.

Malleable?

What the hell did he mean by malleable? And where the hell did he get off referring to Bucky as this one, as if the Omega wasn’t even human at all?

And why the hell didn’t anyone else seem to have a problem with it, too?

A dozen different invectives pressed against the back of Steve’s throat, but somehow he managed to swallow them all down. He couldn’t lose his temper now, not without risking being kicked out on the spot. And no way was he going to leave Bucky to face this tribunal alone. That wasn’t even an option.

So he pushed down his feelings and took a deep breath.

Like it or not, Bucky really did have the right of it all. There was no getting around this situation—only through it—so Steve did his best to speed it up as fast as he could. He cooperated, he spoke, and then he stood silent and listened as Talbot repeated every last one of Ross’s previous questions and Bucky answered them all the same.

So much for lying.

Even when it came time to talk about Steve’s ma, the Omega didn’t stray from his story. And as for whether or not he was a traitor, Bucky only further cemented his innocence as he described all the ways he’d maintained his secret for so long.

Oh, Buck …

Steve’s gut clenched as he listened to his best friend tell them about how Sarah Rogers had not only lied to her doctor about needing more pills but had also stolen enough blank prescriptions from his office to keep Barnes supplied with suppressants for years to come. That truth alone was almost too much to bear. But when Ross asked Steve to verify what his friend was saying, all Steve could do was nod.

“Him and Ma were always real close.” Steve swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “I just figured it was because the two of them were always so worried about me. I used to be pretty sickly back then.”

But it’d been more than that.

So much more.

How could you, ma? Steve found his own thoughts of his mother turning cold and hard as he listened to his friend describe all the times he’d scammed the local druggists out of years’ and years’ worth of suppressants. Didn’t you ever stop to think about what you were doing to him? You had to know how this would end.

Because there was only one way this whole mess could have ever ended.

Badly.

Very, very badly.

Still, all Steve could do was hold his tongue as Bucky moved on to the plan he’d come up with when he’d first heard about the draft. All that working. All those extra shifts. Steve remembered all too clearly just how hard the man had pushed himself during that time. And for what? A pile of pills that he’d hidden inside the spine of his grandpa’s Bible?

Steve felt his throat getting tighter and tighter the more he heard, but still he kept playing his part, using his Voice. And by the time Bucky finally got to the part about how he’d loaned his Bible to some private only to lose it—and the pills—the night they’d been captured at Azzano ….

“I’d say we can safely rule out the traitor theory now. Don’t you agree, Generals?” Phillips finally spoke up.

And reluctantly, both Ross and Talbot nodded.

“I’d still like to verify several of the points he mentioned earlier,” Talbot said, but before Steve could argue, Phillips was already there cutting him off.

“Another time might be best, sir,” the Colonel said. “The boy looks done in.”

And sure enough, Buck did.

Cold sweat coated the Omega’s skin. Fine tremors wracked his body. Bucky’s eyes still had the same glassy-eyed stare, only now they looked even more distant and detached.

Damn it, how had Steve not noticed it going this far?

“Bucky?” Steve cupped his friend’s face in both hands. “Come on, buddy, you’re okay. Just come back to me, alright? Come on. Come back.”

Minutes passed while Steve repeated every known variation of “you’re okay” and “come back” he could think of, until eventually Barnes did.

A full-body shiver swept through the Omega followed by a quick intake of breath. His eyes shot around the room for several seconds, but when they finally landed on Steve, he only had three words to say.

“I’m gonna puke.”

And only Steve’s quick reflexes managed to get a stray bedpan in place just in time to catch all the bile Barnes retched up a moment later.

A round of dry heaves followed.

“I thought you said this wasn’t supposed to hurt him,” Steve snapped at the doctor, and Connors just frowned.

“It shouldn’t.” The doctor moved in to take Bucky’s vitals again. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling, Sergeant?” he asked when Bucky had finally caught his breath.

But all the Omega did was snort. “Like hell.”

And the doctor’s frown just deepened.

“I need more than that, Sergeant.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched.

More prodding followed.

Steve could feel the Omega’s agitation pulsing through the bond. That and pain. Lots of pain. It was so thick, he could smell it in the air. But no matter how much Steve hated it, he had to admit, just feeling something coming through the bond was so much better than the nothingness he’d felt before.

“Look,” Bucky finally cut off any further questioning. “It just hurts, okay? Kind of hard to focus on much else.”

“And what hurts, exactly?” Connors asked.

“What do you think?”

Bucky gestured to his neck as if that explained it all, and the doctor’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t mean your bondmark, do you?” Connors asked.

And Bucky just snorted again. “What else?”

Then Connors was probing the wound on his neck and Bucky was being questioned again. Only this time it was all about the bitemark Steve had left on the man’s neck.

The one that apparently hadn’t quit causing the Omega pain since the moment he’d woken up.

Damn it.

“Can you describe how it feels, Sergeant?” Connors asked, and Bucky shrugged.

“I don’t know. It was more of an ache at first, sometimes a throbbing. But now it feels like somebody stuck a hot poker under my skin.”

Steve flinched at the description.

“And it didn’t get worse until after Captain Rogers used his Voice? Is that correct?”

Bucky nodded, and all Steve could do was close his eyes.

I was just trying to help, the Alpha wanted to say. I wouldn’t have bitten him if I didn’t think it’d help.

Only was that really the truth?

Doubt clawed at the back of Steve’s mind. Every moment of that night—the fear, the wanting, the pleasure—swamped his thoughts. And even though Steve knew he might have started out with good intentions, he still couldn’t shake all the thoughts and feelings that came afterwards.

“So what’s your diagnosis, Doc?” Phillips’ voice drew Rogers back to the present. “Think Hydra did something to him in that lab?”

But the doctor just shook his head.

“Doubtful, Colonel. I’d say it’s more likely that all those years of illegal suppressant use have more than left their mark, and we’re only now just starting to see it.”

Then the doctor started talking about suppressed biology and hormonal surges and all the ways Bucky’s body would most likely be trying to overcompensate for all those years of development it had been denied.

“Granted, this is all theory,” Connors said. “I don’t think anyone has ever dealt with a case like this before—not to my knowledge anyway—but I wouldn’t be surprised if everything from the prolonged nature of his heat to his earlier heightened dissociation could in some way be attributed to all those years of abuse. To put it bluntly, we have a fully developed adult Omega that’s just been exposed to a massive dose of hormones for the first time. All the changes and adjustments that should have normally taken place during adolescence are missing here, so what we’re left with is a body that’s not adapted to its own biology.”

“So what’s that mean for me?” Bucky asked.

“It means you’re in for one hell of a ride, Sergeant,” the doctor said. “I wish I could tell you what to expect, but we’re in uncharted waters from here on out. At a minimum, though, I’d anticipate erratic heats, mood swings, irritability, possibly sleep disturbances.”

Bucky snorted. “Cut out the heats, and you might as well be describing every soldier in the Army.”

“This isn’t a joke, Sergeant. I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation.”

But Barnes just held Connors’ gaze. “Believe me, Doc, I’ve more than understood my situation for the past eleven years. The only difference now is that everybody else knows about it, too.”

Which only made Connors frown again. The doctor opened his mouth, most likely gearing up for another lecture. But before he could get a word out, Steve cut in first.

“So what about his bondmark?” Rogers asked “How long before the pain goes away?”

But Connors could only shrug.

“Hard to tell. It could resolve itself today, tomorrow, or perhaps even never,” the doctor said. “Don’t get me wrong, Captain. I’m not trying to be facetious. It’s just that, in this matter, I have seen cases like this before. It’s called Bond Displacement Syndrome. In those rare instances where Omegas have been subjected to … multiple partners prior to being claimed, their bodies occasionally try to reject any newly-formed bond. The initial symptoms aren’t usually as severe as in the Sergeant’s case—though, as I explained earlier, that’s not surprising—but pain at the bondmark, typically made worse when subjected to a mate’s Voice, is a hallmark of the condition.”

“Great,” Bucky muttered. “So you’re saying I could be stuck like this forever?”

“Only until the bond settles or a new one replaces it, Sergeant,” the doctor said. “And given the nature of your condition as well as the history between you and the captain, I’d recommend the latter.”

Steve’s back stiffened. “Excuse me?”

But by then, the doctor was already turning back to Ross.

“Sir, due to this man’s current medical state, I recommend that Sergeant Barnes be discharged from the Army immediately.”

“I’d say that’s a given, Doctor,” Ross replied.

“Following that,” Connors went on, “I’d like to petition for Mr. Barnes to be removed from Captain Rogers’ custody at once and placed under my direct care. I can initiate treatment here, and following recovery, Mr. Barnes could then be transferred stateside to a qualified Omega Home where the staff can continue his therapy and—after proper reeducation—match him to an Alpha more suited to managing his case.”

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“But we’re already bonded,” was all he could say. “You have no right to—”

“Captain, I can assure you, I have every right,” Connors cut him off. “As long as I have cause to believe that your bond is jeopardizing this man’s health, it’s well within my jurisdiction to take him away.”

“And do what?” Steve demanded. “Send him to some asylum? How’s that any better than him staying with me?”

“If it results in this man receiving the proper treatment he needs, I’d say it’s infinitely better.”

“You still haven’t said what that treatment is.” Bucky’s voice came out still and quiet, subdued with the same false calm that Steve knew always meant his friend was gearing up for a fight. “If I’m the one that’s gotta go through it, I kind of figure I’ve got a right to know.”

“Sergeant, I don’t see how increasing your stress would in any way—”

“Just answer the boy’s question,” Phillips ordered, and Connors let out a put-upon sigh.

“Fine. If you must know, Sergeant, my plan would include a steady drug regimen of mood stabilizers and sedatives coupled with ongoing isolation therapy to further neutralize the bond. Once you’ve been stabilized, I’d then schedule a double orchiectomy followed by—”

Bucky shook his head. “Hold on. An orie—what?”

“Orchiectomy,” Connors repeated, as if that explained anything at all. “It’s a simple medical procedure—virtually painless—that involves removal of the testicles in order to—”

Panic shot through the Omega’s scent.

“You wanna cut off my balls?”

“Sergeant Barnes, I assure you, this is a standard procedure recommended for all male Omegas. If not performed now, your testosterone levels could continue to rise to the point that—”

But Bucky was well beyond listening to any further explanations.

“No.” He shook his head. “Hell, no. You ain’t doing that.”

“Sergeant, I can understand that—”

“His answer is no.” Steve planted himself between the Omega and Connors. “And so is mine.”

Connors frowned. “Captain, if you’d just listen to what I’ve been saying—”

“Believe me, sir, I have been listening,” Steve said. “And so far, all I’ve heard from you are a bunch of theories with no proof to back them up.”

The doctor bristled. “As a medical professional, I’d say I have a better grasp of this situation than you do.”

“And as Sergeant Barnes’ best friend, I’d say I understand him better than you ever could,” Steve shot back. “And I’m telling you now, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you cut him up and send him away. You’ll have to kill me first.”

An argument followed. Then came the threats. Both from the doctor and Ross. At one point, the general even ordered his aide to escort Rogers to the stockade—not that Steve had any intention of going—but a word from Phillips put that matter to rest.

“Not to butt in here, sir,” the Colonel said to Ross, “but you did say you wanted me to wipe Hydra off the map. And as much as I hate to admit it, the captain here might just be my best bet of making that happen.”

The general paused long enough to throw a side-long glance in Steve’s direction.

“Captain Rogers has no prior military experience. He’s not even a proper officer. He’s just a performer.”

“Be that as it may, sir, this performer did just sneak past enemy lines and singlehandedly rescue over 400 POWs from one of Schmidt’s most fortified bases. And quite frankly, if he can do that, I don’t care if he’s a captain or a chorus girl. He’s still a super soldier. And right now, we can use every one of those we can get.”

Phillips turned to Steve.

“So what do you say, Rogers? Ready to join the fight for a change?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Steve nodded to the colonel. “But only if Bucky can come with me.”

Rogers cut a glance in Barnes’ direction.

“That is, as long as you want to, Buck,” Steve added carefully.

But the Omega just snorted.

“As if I’d ever let you run into a fight without me.” Bucky bumped Steve with his shoulder, and the action felt so natural—so familiar—that Steve could almost ignore the leftover panic still tainting the man’s scent. “Course I’m coming with you, punk.” Bucky’s lips twisted into a smirk. “After all, it’s not like I have any better options waiting for me here.”

“Treatment is your only option, Sergeant.” Connors shook his head before turning back to his superiors. “Surely none of you gentlemen intend to indulge in this lunacy. This man is not fit for duty. He needs proper medical care. Therapy. Rest.”

“Yeah, and I know at least a few hundred other soldiers that need the same,” Phillips said. “But until this war’s over, ain’t none of ’em gonna get it.” The colonel looked Bucky up and down. “So tell me, son, you feel fit for duty?”

Bucky’s back straightened. “Yes, sir.”

“Think you can hold it together in the field?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

Phillips shrugged before turning back to Ross. “Then I don’t see any reason why he can’t tag along with Rogers if he wants. I’ve seen Sergeant Barnes’ records, General. He’s damn good with a gun. It’d be a shame to lose a sniper of his caliber, especially when he’s still willing to fight.”

Steve watched the general’s gaze turn back to Bucky as he considered the colonel’s words. To his left, Connors just threw up his hands.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Horrified shock tainted the doctor’s scent. “Gentlemen, this man is an Omega. He does not belong in the military.”

“You could say the same for Agent Carter,” Phillips argued, “but so far she’s fit in well enough. Don’t see how it’d be any different for Barnes.”

“General—” Connors started to protest again, but Ross just raised a hand to cut him off.

“Your objections have been noted, Doctor, but the colonel does have a point.” Again, the general’s gaze lingered on Bucky. “I can’t say I’m pleased with this situation. Or with you for that matter, Captain.” He glanced back at Steve. “But I’ve never been a wasteful man. And right now the Army can’t afford to lose any more of its resources … no matter how unconventional they may be.”

He paused before turning back to Phillips.

“The public won’t like seeing an Omega on the front lines.”

Phillips shrugged. “Leave it to the correspondents. They’ll find some way to sell it.”

“And if they can’t?” Ross raised an eyebrow. “It’s vital that we maintain public support for this war, Colonel. I can’t let these men make a mockery of the entire US Army.”

“They won’t,” Phillips promised. “I guarantee it.”

And after several seconds of holding the other man’s gaze, Ross nodded.

“Very well, Colonel. You can have your super soldier and his Omega, too.” Again, Ross raised a hand before the doctor could protest. “But only on the condition that Dr. Connors remains available to oversee the sergeant’s condition.”

“No way.” Bucky just shook his head. “I don’t want that guy anywhere near me.”

And Ross’s lips just narrowed into a thin, hard line.

“At the moment, you still have your rank, Sergeant,” the general warned. “I’d suggest you hold your tongue if you want to keep it.”

Bucky’s mouth snapped shut, and Steve could already feel a growl building deep inside his chest. But before he could come to his friend’s defense, Phillips was there to smooth everything out again.

“Don’t worry, son.” The colonel nodded to Bucky. “Now that we’ve sorted out your status, the good doctor here can’t initiate any type of therapy on his own. Not without your mate’s consent, that is.” Phillips stared down the physician beside him. “Ain’t that right, Doc?”

Connors’s mouth twisted into a frown.

“Of course, Colonel,” he said. “Though I’ll continue to offer my own recommendations … no matter what deaf ears they might fall upon.”

“You just do that, Doc.” Phillips nodded before turning back to Ross. “I’d say that about settles everything on my end, General. Unless you’ve got any more questions for the sergeant here.”

But Ross just shook his head. A moment later, he dismissed his officers. And that was it. The debrief was over. Steve still felt like he’d been dragged through hell itself, but at least he’d made it to the other side. And from the relief flooding through Bucky’s side of the bond, it was clear the Omega felt the same way, too.

“We did it, Buck,” Steve squeezed the Omega’s shoulder.

But even though Bucky flashed him a weak smile, the Alpha could practically feel the wall of tension still standing between them.

And worse than that, he could smell it, too.

“Steve …” the Omega began only to be cut off as Phillips’ voice called back to Rogers from outside the door.

“Come on, Rogers,” the colonel ordered. “The honeymoon’ll have to wait. We’ve got a war to plan.”

Then Phillips left, and all Steve could do was stand there, torn between the pull of his orders and the tug of his mate’s distress reverberating through the bond.

“Buck, are you—”  

But before Steve could finish, his friend was already pushing him away.

“You better get going, punk.” Bucky flashed a quick smile. “First rule of the Army is you never piss off the brass.”

Still, Steve hesitated.

“If you need me to stay, I can—”

“Just go.” Bucky shoved him again, harder this time. And even though Steve still didn’t want to leave—God knows his instincts kept screaming at him to turn back—he forced his feet to carry him outside.

On either side of the doorway, MPs still guarded Bucky’s room. Steve didn’t know if he should be grateful for the presence or not.

“Everything all right, Captain?” Agent Carter asked from the other side of the hall, and Steve didn’t think he’d ever been so grateful to see the female Omega in his life.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. Or, at least, I think it is. Maybe.”

Carter frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Sorry, I don’t have time to explain. I just … I really don’t want to leave Bucky alone right now. And I know I have no right to ask, especially after everything you’ve already done, but if you could just—”

“It’s fine, Captain.” Amusement tugged at the Omega’s lips. “I’d be happy to sit with sergeant if you like.”

Steve thanked her—probably more than the situation required. But after everything they’d just gone through with Ross and Connors and Talbot, Steve still didn’t trust the general’s word enough to feel comfortable leaving Bucky alone. Not that leaving him with another Alpha would be any better. Or even a Beta for that matter. But an Omega?

Out of everyone he could have ever wished for, Agent Carter had to be one of the best options he could hope to find.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Steve told her. “If anything comes up—”

“I’ll be sure to contact you first thing.” Carter’s lips twitched as she rolled her eyes. “Now get going, Captain. You don’t want to keep the Colonel waiting.”

And for the second time that day, Steve found himself being shooed away by yet another Omega.

Rogers couldn’t help but shake his head and grin.

Vaguely, Steve wondered if his own father had had to deal with the same thing when he’d first taken a mate, but any lingering good humor evaporated as soon as Steve’s thoughts turned to his ma.

Damn it, Ma. Why’d it have to be you?

Looking back at his childhood, every last memory Steve had felt tainted somehow. The woman he’d thought he knew better than any other seemed like little more than a stranger.

A dangerous, treacherous stranger.

Of all the things you could’ve done, Ma, why’d it have to be this?

Steve was so lost in his own thoughts he’d didn’t even notice the man approaching him until the other Alpha had already fallen into step at his side.

“A moment of your time, Captain?” Dr. Connors asked, and Steve could already feel his hackles rising.

“I think we both know where each of us stands, Doctor,” Steve said. “If you’re hoping to change my mind, don’t bother.”

Connors grimaced.

“Believe me, Captain, you’ve made your position abundantly clear. But I don’t think you understand mine.”

Steve cut his eyes at the older man. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Please, Steven,” the doctor said, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was the tone of the man’s voice or the use of his own name that drew him up short. “I don’t want to be your enemy. I really am just trying to look out for the sergeant’s best interests … as well as your own.”

Steve snorted. “You mean by chopping off his nuts and sending him to some looney bin?”

“It’s not—”

Connors took a deep breath before pausing to close his eyes. When he looked back at Steve, there was no malice in his gaze, no vindictiveness, not even any reproach. Just sadness. Though for whom, Steve couldn’t exactly say.

“Captain, I know how … barbaric some of these treatments must sound to you. But you have to understand, I’m not basing my recommendations on some kind of sadistic whim. There are years and years of research available to support my case.”

“Still doesn’t make it right,” Steve said. “You’re talking about mutilating a man, body and soul.”

“And I suppose you’d say the same if I performed an appendectomy, hmm?” Connors raised an eyebrow. “Or what if I had to remove a boy’s tonsils? Or perhaps a soldier’s arm that was on the verge of turning gangrene? Would you accuse me of mutilating my patients then, too?”

Steve shook his head. “Those are completely different situations.”

“Why?” Connors shot back. “In each case, I’m removing a piece of a person’s body.”

“Only because they’d die if you didn’t.”

“Exactly, Captain. As a doctor, my primary duty is to save lives. Every course of treatment I prescribe is with that same endpoint in mind. And I can assure you, when it comes to Sergeant Barnes’ case, my motivations are no different.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Cutting his balls off isn’t going to save Bucky’s life.”

“In the short-term? Probably not. But in the long-term …” Connors took another deep breath. “In the long-term, it might very well save his life as well as no telling how many others.”

And that didn’t make any sense at all. But before Steve could say as much, the doctor was already speaking again.

“Captain, you have to understand, your friend just went through a milestone event. That first heat and the hormonal surge that follows completely transforms an Omega’s body as well as his or her mind. It’s hard enough on the females, but amongst the males—especially those that are left intact …” Connors shook his head. “Suffice it to say, Sergeant Barnes already had the odds stacked against him to begin with. But when you take into consideration his age as well all those years of suppressant abuse, it would be naïve not to expect any repercussions.”

“You already told us what symptoms to expect. Irregular heats. Mood swings. Trouble sleeping. You’ll have to forgive me, Doctor, but they don’t sound too serious to me.”

“Only because they’re the least of what I would expect to occur,” Connors said. “If I’d been allowed to finish, we might not be having this conversation right now.”

Steve crossed his arms. “Somehow I doubt that.”

But instead of losing his temper, the doctor’s shoulders just drooped and his scent took on a pitying edge.

“Believe me, Captain, I’d like nothing more than to be wrong. For the sergeant’s sake, I dearly hope I am wrong. But I’ve read about cases similar to your mate’s, times when Omegas were victimized prior to bonding. Granted, none of those instances could hold a candle to what the sergeant experienced, but still, the results were all the same.”

Steve’s throat tightened. “You’re talking about what happened with the bond.”

“Yes, in part,” Connors said. “But it’s more than that. Bond Displacement Syndrome is a multi-faceted condition. It can affect all Omegas differently. For those whose bonds settle or are replaced, the outlook is certainly … improved. But even then, the mortality rate is somewhere near forty percent.”

“And if the bond doesn’t take?” Steve asked.

Connors’ frown deepened. “I’m sorry, Captain, but typically fewer than ten percent survive.”

Steve took a step back before shaking his head.

“Ten percent?” Steve still couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was hearing. “But what … ? How … ?” He shook his head again. “I’m sorry, but back in Buck’s room you made it sound like this wasn’t a big deal. Now you’re saying it could kill him?”

“I can understand your confusion, Captain. At the time, I didn’t want to further alarm the sergeant. Though in retrospect, perhaps the general would have been more inclined to listen had I not held my tongue.” Connors grimaced. “But yes, this condition is a very ‘big deal.’ If you don’t believe me, I have literature you’re welcome to borrow that discusses this situation in greater detail.”

“Yeah.” Steve rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’d like that. I just … I’m sorry, but I still don’t get how this is so fatal.”

“Honestly, I don’t believe anyone does. Not yet, anyway. As I said before, such instances of abuse are rare. Most of what we have to go on are simply case studies. But amongst those, the commonalities are indisputable. Typical progression usually involves depression and irritability followed by social isolation, mental instability, paranoia and delusions—often-times associated with hallucinations—all of which ultimately lead to psychotic breaks that typically manifest themselves as violence either directed towards oneself or others.”

“So let me get this straight,” Steve said. “You’re saying you think Bucky’s gonna go on some rampage and end up either killing himself or a whole bunch of other people?”

“It’s certainly happened before,” Connors said. “Many times before.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, well, it’s not gonna happen this time. The Bucky I know would never—”

“That’s just it, Captain,” the doctor cut in. “Pretty soon you won’t be dealing with the man you knew. You’ll be dealing with an Omega—one who’s been poisoned and abused to such a degree I have no basis for comparison. And one who’s also been trained to kill.”

“Better be careful, Doctor.” Steve squared his shoulders. “You’re talking about my friend here.”

“Which is precisely problem, Steven.” Connors shook his head. “Sergeant Barnes doesn’t need a friend right now. He needs a mate. A proper mate. One who can settle his bond and give him the security and stability he’ll need in order to adapt to the changes that are about to take place.”

Steve stiffened. “I don’t see why I can’t do that as well as anybody else.”

“How?” Connors asked. “By taking him back into an active war zone? Do you really think Omegas were built for that level of stress?”

“Bucky handled it well enough before.”

“Only because the suppressants he kept taking were holding back his true nature.” The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Captain, I know from your records that your father passed away before you were born. And given the sergeant’s testimony today, you were raised by the very woman who poisoned your friend to begin with.”

Steve flinched at the reminder.

“So at the very least, your knowledge here is either lacking or, most likely, biased,” Connors went on. “Can you at least concede that much?”

Steve held his tongue, but he didn’t argue. He couldn’t.

And after a brief pause, the doctor just gave him a curt nod.

“I know you don’t like me, Captain,” Connors said. “And were our roles reversed, I’d probably feel the same. But for the sake of your friend, please don’t be so quick to dismiss me. I really do just want to help. All I ask is that you listen to my recommendations. Read the material I give you. At the very least, try to take care of the Omega you’ve taken, or if you’re incapable, remand him into the custody of those who will.”

But no matter how much the doctor’s previous plea might have chipped away at Steve’s defenses, those last few words were enough to set the Alpha back on guard.

“Bucky stays with me.” Steve let out a growl. “No one’s taking him away. He’s mine.”

And that last sentence alone was enough to make him flinch.

Where the hell had that come? He blinked in confusion.

“I’m sorry.” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s quite alright, Captain.” The ghost of a smirk tugged at the edge of the doctor’s lips. “Possessiveness is a common trait amongst newly-bonded Alphas. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t experience it than if you did.”

Steve frowned at that. “I still shouldn’t have put it that way. Bucky’s his own person, and I’m—”

“His Alpha,” Connors finished. “Because if you want to help him, that’s who you’ll have to be. It’s who he needs you to be.”

And as much as Steve had fought for that title—as much as he knew he couldn’t protect Bucky without it—deep down, a part of himself couldn’t help but feel guilty about taking it while another part ….

Steve let out a deep breath.

He couldn’t afford to face what that other part felt. Not here. Not yet, anyway.

“Captain?” From farther down the hall, one of Phillips’ aides strode towards him. “The colonel still needs you in the war room, sir.”

Steve nodded. “On my way.” He turned back to Connors. “Doctor, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course.” The older Alpha took a step back. “Just … For the sergeant’s sake, Steven, please don’t forget this conversation.”

“Believe me. I won’t,” Steve said as he strode away.

No matter how much I might wish I could.

Chapter Text

November 1943

As soon as the door to his room closed, Bucky felt the last remaining shreds of his nerves give way.

Fuck.

Just … fuck.

Everything that had just happened hit him all at once, and it was just too much to process. His hands trembled. His breath shook. He could feel his pulse thundering away inside his chest while the stench of his own anxiety filled the room. And all together, it was damn near too much to handle.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

What. The. Fuck.

Get a hold of yourself, Barnes. Cold rationality broke through his panic. You always knew this would happen one day. No way could you hide behind those suppressants forever.

But as much as he’d known—or, at least, thought he’d known—the truth of the matter, having to live out the reality of his situation was a whole other beast entirely.

Slowly, hesitantly, Bucky raised a hand up to his neck and traced the jagged bitemark on his throat with one finger. The wound still throbbed in time to his heartbeat. The ache of it cut him all the way down to his core. But even worse than the pain was the cold truth that came with it.

He was an Omega.

A claimed Omega.

Steve’s Omega.

Why the fuck did he have to be Steve’s Omega?

A whine pressed against the back of his throat as he thought about what that meant—what all of it meant—but before even a whisper could get out, he swallowed the sound down with a hard gulp of air.

He might be an Omega, damn it, but he wasn’t weak. He could deal with this. He would make himself deal with this. After all, he’d already been through hell itself. Fucking Lohmer had more than taken care of claiming his virginity. And after all the Alphas that had followed, one more knot inside him shouldn’t make any difference at all.

Only it did make a difference.

It made a huge difference.

Because the knot in question belonged to Steve. And Steve was supposed to be his best friend. How the hell was he supposed to fuck his best friend?

Easy, his mind supplied. You aren’t. Because he’s the one who’s supposed to fuck you.

And that really was the simple truth of the matter, wasn’t it?

No matter how much Bucky might have tried to fight it, no matter how many years he’d managed to hide, he never could escape his own fate. Being fucked and bred, used and claimed—that was the future that awaited all Omegas. It was what they were born for. It was the only thing they were born for. And for him to think he was any different ….

He let out another long, shaky breath.

Before his thoughts could spiral any further, though, a knock sounded at the door.

“Sergeant Barnes?” The brunette dame from earlier poked her head inside the room. “I’m Agent Carter. Captain Rogers thought you might like some company.”

And Bucky couldn’t help but snort at that.

Captain Rogers.

No matter how many times he heard it, Bucky doubted he’d ever get used to thinking of little Stevie Rogers as any kind of officer much less the literal superhero he’d become. It was beyond ridiculous. It was nuts. Absolutely insane.

Or maybe just he was insane.

Truth be told, part of Bucky felt like he was insane. And from the expression on his soon-to-be guest’s face, he probably damn well looked it, too.

“Sergeant?” the woman asked again, and Bucky just shook his head.

“No, no, go ahead. Come on in,” he said. “It’s not like it’d do any good if I told you otherwise.”

Carter gave him an odd look but slipped inside nonetheless.

From his bed, he watched her enter.

The woman had a certain bearing to her, that was for sure. She carried herself carefully—none of the swagger of an Alpha and none of their scent either—yet the confidence she exuded was almost palpable.

If he’d been in any other place, at any other time, and especially under any other circumstances, he’d have probably flirted with her shamelessly. She wasn’t a redhead, but in every other way, she was exactly his type. Even now, he couldn’t deny she was attractive. But still, just her presence alone was enough to set him on edge.

That, and the attitude he just knew she had to be carrying.

Yeah, sweetheart, he wanted to say, I get it. You’re brainy, beautiful, and a Beta to boot. And in your mind, I’m sure you’re better than me in just about every other way imaginable, too.

Not that she’d be wrong on any of those marks. No, from the looks of her, Miss Nose-in-the-air was about as far above him in class as he used to be above Steve in boxing technique. He could only imagine the charmed life she must have led. This whole war was probably just a romantic adventure in her eyes, and here he was, either the pitiable victim or just some disgusting freak. After all, how else could a girl like her ever see him? Not as a man, that was for sure. Especially not now. Not after everything he’d been through. Not when he’d had God knows how many cocks wedged up his ass and down his throat and—

“Sergeant?”

Agent Carter’s voice cut through his daze, and he snapped back to the present.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “If you need me to get someone—”

“No!” The word came out a little too quickly. “No, I just …. I’m fine, okay? Just lost track of my thoughts, that’s all.”

She raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t otherwise call him out on the lie.

“Look,” he said after an awkward moment of silence. “I really am fine. So if you wanna head out, you can go tell Steve or that doctor or whatever other Alpha I’m sure you must report to that the poor little Omega you’d been sent in to babysit is still functioning and still in his right mind. Otherwise, I can’t see much point for you sticking around.”

This time, instead of just one eyebrow, both rose up. But if he’d been expecting to get any further rise out of the woman, he was grossly mistaken.

Barely a breath passed before the corners of Carters lips quirked up into a smirk.

“You don’t like me much, do you, Sergeant?”

Bucky had to fight not to roll his eyes. “What I don’t like is having to sit around here like some side-show spectacle.”

“And you think that’s how I see you?”

He snorted. “How could you not? A well-bred Beta like you? I’d be surprised if you’ve ever even seen an Omega before, much less spoken to one.”

And at that, the woman’s smirk split into a full-on smile.

A damned good looking one, too, Bucky couldn’t help but think. But still, he kept those thoughts to himself as he watched Carter walk over to the table beside his bed and casually fill up the basin with the pitcher of water that had been left for him.

Without speaking, she drenched a nearby rag and slowly began to wash her left wrist. In less than a minute, the smell of honeysuckle and cinnamon filled the air.

Bucky froze.

“You’re an Omega?” Bucky whispered, and the woman’s smile only softened.

“Guilty as charged.”

And all Bucky could do was cup a hand over his eyes and feel like the biggest ass in the whole wide world.

“Well,” he said when his wits finally came back to him. “I guess that changes things.”

“Yes,” Carter said, “I rather think it does.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to start this whole conversation over again?” he asked. “Maybe give me a chance to cut out the whole part where I come across as some kind of raving idiot?”

She paused to consider his offer. “I don’t know, Sergeant. Can you come across as anything other than a raving idiot?”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Bucky smirked as he held out a hand. “Name’s James Buchanan Barnes—not that you didn’t already know that—but my friends call me Bucky.”

“Well, James—” Carter matched his smirk as she shook his hand. “—my name is Margaret Carter, but I usually go by Peggy.”

“Not Agent?” he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

“Only when I’m on duty, Sergeant,” she said. “And right now, I am decidedly off duty, so you can call me what you will.” She held up a hand. “But fair warning. I can and will hold any unflattering nicknames against you. And trust me, Sergeant, you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

She shook her head, and once again, her smirk turned into a smile.

Bucky found he quite liked her smile.

They talked after that. The conversation was simple at first. Peggy filled him in on all the details of his life that Steve hadn’t mentioned.

Bucky found out that he was currently at an allied base in London—which was a damn sight better than Austria or even Italy as far as he was concerned.  After Steve had single-handedly rescued over 400 prisoners from Kreischberg—Bucky was still having trouble wrapping his mind around that—Phillips and the rest of the Allies had been busy evacuating all the survivors back here to England.

“And the rest of the guys were okay?” Bucky interrupted. “What about injuries during the escape? How many fatalities? I know Steve’s supposed to be some kind of superhero now, but there’s no way over 400 men walked out of that factory without a scratch.”

Which, of course, they hadn’t.

Peggy was patient. She didn’t have a roster in front of her, but she’d helped sort the POWs when they first arrived, and she remembered more than a name or two.

Actually, she remembered a hell of a lot more than a name or two.

Bucky must have rattled off over sixty separate names—most of which belonged to men from the 107^th and 92^nd, but a few were from foreign companies, too—and God bless her, Peggy was able to confirm 42 right on the spot. The rest she promised to look up later. But thanks to her, at least he now knew that all the men in his cell as well as Juniper were alive and accounted for, so that was something. Honestly, that was a great big something. As sorry as he was to hear about the few deaths she’d confirmed, he still couldn’t deny the relief that flooded through him as soon as he’d heard Dum Dum, Gabe, and the rest of his crew had gotten out in one piece.

“I still can’t believe that many made it.” Bucky shook his head. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s just, you been through enough battles, you kind of get used to losing guys, you know?”

Peggy glanced down. “Unfortunately, I do.”

She paused briefly as if considering what to say next.

“I was there, you know, when Captain Rogers heard that you’d been lost. For days I’d watched the wounded trickle in from Azzano, but I don’t think I’d ever quite felt the … fullness of it until I saw the captain’s reaction.”

Bucky watched some emotion flicker over her face. Maybe if he hadn’t been so tired and if she hadn’t been so guarded, he could have said what it was. But as it stood, all he could do was watch it pass in silence.

“I’ve never seen a man so committed to anyone else,” she said in an almost hushed voice. “There was never once any indecision, no hesitancy. When he heard what had happened, he vowed to get you back, and that’s exactly what he did.”

That, and then some, Bucky’s own bitterness whispered.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on what else might have happened that night Steve saved him. Peggy was right. He was out. His men were safe—at least most of them. And the Krauts had been dealt a damn fine blow.

All thanks to Steve Rogers.

So no matter how much Bucky’s gut clenched just thinking about his Alpha—dear God, was he already thinking of Steve as his Alpha?—he forced a smile as he shrugged back at the Omega beside him.

“What can I say?” he said. “Steve always was a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“He certainly is at that,” she laughed. “Why, the stories I could tell you from Camp LeHigh …”

“Oh, got some good ones I take it?” He leaned back in his bed. “Well, go ahead. I’ve got nothing but time, and I could use some fresh ammo.”

“I don’t know about ammo,” Peggy said, “but your mate did certainly leave an impression.”

And then she told him all about Steve’s first days of training, his hazing at the hands of his comrades, and a few of his finer moments as well. If she noticed the way Bucky flinched when she’d used the word “mate,” she didn’t show it. But from the way her voice kept carrying on and on, never once pausing for his input, he had the feeling she could tell just how much of a strain it was just for him to hold his shit together.

And quite frankly, if he didn’t have her here distracting him like this, he doubted he even could.

By the time she’d finished telling him every anecdote she could think of, his throat had finally relaxed enough that he figured he could trust himself to speak. So he started off by thanking her.

“I know you’ve gotta have better things to do than hanging out with a semi-invalid like me, so I just want you to know I appreciate it.”

She shook her head. “Honestly, James, it’s no problem at all. Today is actually my day off.” Her lips quirked into a fresh smirk. “We Omegas being the ‘delicate creatures’ that we are—” She rolled her eyes at that, and he couldn’t help but snort. “—the military requires I take at least one day of rest for every four I’m on duty. Given your hearing though, I petitioned to be allowed to attend.”

He frowned. “And why was that?”

Again, another flash of emotion crossed her features, but it was gone before Bucky could catch it.

“Let’s just say that very few Alphas have an Omega’s interest in mind when it comes to situations like these,” she said after a pause. “At the time, I thought you could use an ally. Not that I did much good. Captain Rogers seemed to be a much better champion for your cause.”

Again, Bucky had to fight back a grimace and, along with that, a surge of guilt as well.

“Yeah, Steve’s pretty great like that,” he said after a while. “He’s always ready to step into a fight, no matter how bad the odds are stacked against him.” He shook his head fondly. “Used to be, I was the one always bailing him out in the end, but now ….”

Peggy pursed her lips. “I remember what he looked like the first time I saw him. His transformation was certainly … dramatic to say the least. As a lifelong friend, I can only imagine how much harder it must be to accept such a change.”

“Yeah.” Bucky looked off as his thoughts wandered. “There’ve been a lot of changes that are hard to accept. Funny thing is, I think seeing Steve turn into some kind of superhero has to be the easiest.”

Silence stretched between them. Eventually, Peg leaned forward and took his hand.

 “For what it’s worth, Sergeant, I’m sorry.”

Bucky smiled before looking down and shaking his head. “Eh, it was bound to happen right? I guess I should just be grateful I made it as long as I did.”

Peggy gave his hand a squeeze. “That still doesn’t make it any easier.”

Bucky swallowed. “No, it doesn’t.”

More silence followed. Any moment now, Bucky expected the other Omega to withdraw her hand from his, only she didn’t. Instead, she held tight, her tiny fingers squeezing lightly against his palm, and the presence of her touch meant more than he could ever say.

“So,” he said before the silence could shift from comforting to awkward. “You’re an Omega in the Army, huh? Not to sound rude, but what exactly is it that they’ve got you doing around here, Agent Carter, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Oh, this and that,” she said casually. “You know how it is in the Army. There’s a job to do, and they always need someone to do it.”

“And let me guess,” Bucky said, “the jobs they’ve got you doing are probably all classified.”

“Well, look at you, Sergeant.” Peggy’s smile deepened. “Not even half an hour has passed, and you’ve already proven you aren’t just an idiot after all. I’m impressed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re resorting to flattery now, are you? Be careful, Agent, or you just might get on my good side.”

She laughed along with him at that, and he couldn’t help but think that her laugh was just as good as her smile.

“You should do that more often,” he said.

She cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“Let go,” he told her. “It looks good on you.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, I’m afraid wouldn’t be much appreciated in my line of work, especially considering my designation.”

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t guess Omegas are really known for cutting up, huh?”

“No, I don’t suppose we are.”

More silence settled between them. Without thinking, Bucky found himself idly playing with the tiny hand still resting in his. It looked so small in his own, delicate in a way that Peggy’s reserved intensity told him she wasn’t.

How old was she anyway?

Judging by her face, she didn’t look like she could be much past twenty, but her eyes were practically ancient. Thinking back, he remembered Sarah Rogers having eyes like those. Tired yet knowing. Calm but always assessing. They were the kind of eyes that had seen too much yet lived too little. And maybe the same was true for all Omegas. Sarah always said their kind never had an easy lot in life, and from the little he’d seen so far, she’d been right.

But while Kreischberg had been nothing short of hell in itself, deep down he’d always been more frightened of being bonded than anything else his designation could throw at him. Sure, those Hydra bastards had raped him and used him. Zola and his team had even experimented on him for God’s sake. But all that was just physical. Being bonded though … That was a mark that cut a person all the way down to the soul. It was the collar that would let an Alpha control him. Hell, it’d even give his Alpha the power to rewrite him if his bondmate so chose. After all, hadn’t Sarah described how just that had nearly happened to herself? She’d told him all about how Joseph Rogers had tried to train her. The man was determined to cut out every unwanted bit of her personality he could find, and he’d very nearly succeeded, too. Only his deployment during the Great War had saved her spirit.

And now here Bucky was, twenty-five-years later, caught in the same position with her son. He couldn’t quite say the situation could be called ironic, but it was a damn sight unfortunate as far as he was concerned.

And halfway bordering on hopeless, too.

“Anything you’d like to talk about?” Peggy asked when his scent had soured the room so badly, even he cringed at the smell.

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good to mention it.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes words have more power than you think.”

He snorted. “For an Alpha, maybe. But for us?”

His eyes darted from her face to her neck. The collar of her uniform might have kept it half-covered, but from what he could tell, all the flesh there was clear and unmarked.

“No one’s claimed you yet, have they?”

She stiffened but shook her head.

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad. I hope you can keep it that way.”

“That’s my intention,” she told him, and he couldn’t help but smile sadly at that.

“Yeah, it used to be mine, too.”

Peggy’s lips parted, but nothing came out for several seconds. Bucky let go of her hand. He’d give her the out if she wanted it. God only knew he wasn’t good company today. He could hardly expect her to stay when he couldn’t even keep his own emotions from stinking up the room.

But instead of leaving, all Carter did was pull her chair closer.

“You know, James, for a man who worked so hard to hold onto his freedom, I find it rather hard to believe you’d so casually let it be taken away.”

Bucky bristled. “Excuse me? Listen, honey, I don’t know if anyone ever told you what one of these bondmarks means, but as far as my freedom goes, it’s already gone.”

“Is it?” she cocked her head to the side. “Or do you just think it is because someone else told you it would be?”

He opened his mouth but couldn’t quite figure out what to say. “Huh?”

Peggy’s lips quirked up at the edges, but her eyes remained just as sharp as ever.

“The way I see it, Sergeant, you find yourself in a rather unique position. Not only are you the only known Omega to serve in active combat, you’re also now the mate of a national icon. Such distinctions attract attention. And with attention comes power.”

Bucky snorted at that. “Funny, I seem to have gotten a lot of attention at Kreischberg, but it sure didn’t make me feel too powerful.”

“I have no doubt of that.” Peggy grimaced. “But the situation you’re in now is totally different. The man who claimed you does care for you, and he genuinely seems to have your best interests in mind. Granted, I don’t know the captain as well as you do, but I find it hard to believe that Steve Rogers would be as heavy-handed with you as some Alphas might.”

Bucky looked away. Normally, the thought of Steve being heavy-handed with anyone—much less his best friend—would have been ridiculous at best. Little Stevie Rogers had more heart than any Alpha Bucky had ever met. He’d never once tried to hold anyone back or keep anyone down. He was Sarah Rogers’ son for God’s sake. He had every last grain of moral fortitude that his mother had been brimming with and then some. So why the hell did Bucky think any of that would change now?     

Because bonding changes everything, he could practically hear Sarah’s voice speaking up from the back of his mind.

An Alpha would always be an Alpha after the bite, she’d once said. It didn’t matter how different they might seem at first. As soon as the bond took hold, they’d change every time. Joseph had. And Steve was his father’s son, so of course he’d follow in the man’s footsteps.

Yeah, just like you followed in yours.

Bucky winced at the thought.

He could only imagine what George Barnes would say if he could see his boy now. Having a Beta for a son was disappointing enough, but to find out he’d sired an Omega? The Alpha would probably disown him on the spot. Or worse, he’d expect Bucky to be every bit the Omega George had undoubtedly wished he’d married instead.

After all, hadn’t Bucky’s pa always been a traditional Alpha if nothing else? Of course, he would register his son as soon as he presented. Of course, he would hand him off to the highest bidder. And of course, he would act as if he’d done nothing but his government-mandated civic duty. Those were the truths Bucky had accepted growing up. They were the only reality he could even conceive. And if the tables had been turned and Bucky were to find himself in his father’s position instead of his own, was there really any question that he’d do the same to an Omega son of his own?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

The very idea made his stomach turn on the spot. Even if he had been born an Alpha, Bucky knew he would have never had it in him to make the same decisions his father undoubtedly would. So, wasn’t it at least conceivable that Steve might behave differently as well?

“Steve did keep that doctor off my back,” Bucky said as much to himself as to Carter. “And he even made Ross promise to let me back on the field. I can’t say I could ever see any other Alpha going that far, so yeah, I … I guess he might be kind of different after all.”

Which was an understatement to say the least.

But instead of calling him on it, Peggy chose to fixate more on the active combat side of his story than any burgeoning epiphany. In the space of a breath, her gaze shifted from sympathetic to sharp. She made him recount every last thing that she’d missed after she’d been dismissed earlier. And it was only after Bucky had given her a complete blow-by-blow of all that Steve and the brass had said that she sat back in her chair with an all-too-pleased look on her face.

“So, you get to keep your rank and you’ll be allowed to follow the captain back into battle?” Peggy shook her head and smiled. “Honestly, Sergeant, I’d say that turned out even better than I could have ever dreamed.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Glad to know the thought of me getting shot at makes you so happy.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Really, Sergeant, that’s what you’ve taken from all this?”

“Not so sure what else I can take from it, Agent,” Bucky shot back. “I haven’t exactly had much time to think it all through.”

“Well, think about this,” Peggy said. “Captain Rogers is the world’s only known super soldier. He’s already a national icon, and thanks to this rescue, he’s even more famous than ever before. He’s made headlines on all the papers. There’s talk of him receiving a medal for valor soon enough. And if Phillips has plans to use him against Hydra, you’d better believe he’ll have even grander exploits to come.”

“Mind getting to your point, Agent,” Bucky cut in. “Because if you’re trying to give me a pep talk, it sure as hell isn’t working.”

“What I’m trying to tell you, Sergeant, is that men such as Captain Rogers attract attention. And with attention comes interest.” Peggy leaned forward. “Public interest. The world will want to know everything it can about Captain America … and the men who follow him.”

Bucky frowned.

“Somehow I doubt anybody’s gonna care much about the Omega tagging along at his heels.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Sergeant,” Peggy told him. “If you were just his Omega, perhaps interest would wane. But you’re also his best friend and comrade in arms. You’ll be fighting right there at his side. If you pair that along with the story of your rescue, how could the public not pay attention to your life?”

She made a compelling argument, but still …

“I’d rather just be left out of it all together,” Bucky told her. “Phillips said—”

“The colonel can say whatever he wants,” Peggy interrupted, “but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t hide the truth forever. Not when there are so many witnesses and not if you distinguish yourself above and beyond the call of duty.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed.

“You seem mighty keen on getting me noticed, Agent Carter. Mind telling me why?”

“Because I’d say it’s about time the world does notice you, Sergeant Barnes. It’s about time they notice us all.”

Bucky shook his head. “If you’re asking me to be some kind of activist—”

“What I’m asking you to do is show the world what an Omega really is—not what most people believe we are.”

She leaned forward again, closer than ever before, and maybe it was the proximity that did it. Or maybe it was that look in her eyes. Or hell, maybe it was just her scent. But whatever the cause, Bucky suddenly found himself at a loss for words as he sat there staring at the woman beside him.

“Earlier today, you told Captain Rogers that he couldn’t understand. No Alpha could. And you were right. No Alpha—or Beta, for that matter—could ever possibly know what it’s like to be an Omega. And how could they? There are so many of them and so few of us, it’s no wonder we’ve been marginalized. But you could change that. You could be the voice of our kind. Thanks to the captain’s popularity, the press will be abuzz with any news they can find on the man. And as long as you stay near him, you’ll be standing in that same limelight. The world will have to take notice of you, Sergeant Barnes. So why not use that attention to do some good along the way?”

Peggy stared up at him then as she awaited an answer, and her face was so earnest and her eyes so impassioned, he was tempted to give in right then. After all, if he could do some good in this life, why not try? Lord knew their kind could use whatever help they could get. And if the right advocate did step up, maybe things could change. Maybe his kind wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows. Maybe one day Omegas could even live lives just as rich and free as those of the Alphas and Betas they’d grown up beside.

But all of that hinged on having the right speaker for their cause. And as much as Peggy might seem to believe in him, Bucky knew better than to ever place that much faith in himself.

“Seems to me you’re already a whole lot better at this stuff than I could ever be,” he said. “Why don’t you step up instead?”

“Because, Sergeant, no one would listen,” she said. “And even if they did, I’m not at liberty to divulge anything that would prove my point. My position here is—”

“Classified,” he interrupted. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Bucky took a deep breath as he turned his gaze towards the ceiling. Minutes later, when he looked back, Peggy was still staring at him just as intently as ever.

He let out a sigh.

“I really don’t know what you’re expecting from me.” He shook his head again. “Steve’s the symbol. I’m just a survivor.”

“I’ve talked to the men you served with, Sergeant. Somehow, I doubt they’d agree with your assessment.”

“And what about you, Agent Carter.” Bucky fixed his eyes on the woman beside him. “What’s your assessment?”

Peggy didn’t blink at the question, but she did pause as if collecting her thoughts.

“I’d say that you’re more than you appear, Sergeant,” she said slowly. “And that you have the capacity to be much, much more than you currently are. As for what you’ll let yourself become, though, that remains up to you.”

“Up to me, huh?” Bucky shook his head. “You know, I seem to remember my ma giving me the same speech back when I was a kid. Next thing I know, you’re gonna tell me to eat all my vegetables and wash behind my ears, too.”

“Only if that’s what you need to hear, Sergeant,” Peggy said. “Though I rather hope you’ve already taken those lessons to heart.”

He chuckled, and she smiled along, too.

She really did have a gorgeous smile.

Part of him wondered if it was just the deprivation of war that had him so fixated on this one dame. He’d seen no telling how many GI’s fall for the first girl they saw just because they’d been stuck in the field for too long. But as tempted as he was to blame it all on loneliness, Bucky had to think there was more to it than that.

Sure, Agent Carter was a looker. No one could ever deny that. But he’d talked up a lot of lookers in his time, and he’d never found one that he enjoyed talking to nearly so much. There was just something about that mixture of feistiness, brains, and steely convictions that he couldn’t help but find irresistible … and also a bit nostalgic, too.

Truth be told, the more he thought about it, the more this woman reminded him of another Omega he’d had in his life. Sarah Rogers could be every bit as headstrong as Peggy Carter. And when it came to her morals, she was just as immovable, as well. Even in the brains department, Bucky had always known Sarah was no slouch. Sure, she hadn’t had the same education that Peggy probably had, but what Sarah lacked in book knowledge, she’d easily made up for in street smarts.

And as for any other similarities, Bucky had to admit that saying no to Peggy Carter was every bit as hard as it’d been on those rare occasions when he’d had to let down Steve’s mom. He hadn’t liked it then, and he didn’t like it now. But if he were to do what she asked …

“If I did what you’re saying,” Bucky said at length, “—and mind you, that’s still a big if—I’d probably need some help along the way.”

“I’d be glad to assist in any way I can, Sergeant.”

“Could mean some long hours,” he told her. “I’m not always the fastest study.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Peggy smiled softly. “But I can think of worse ways to spend my time.”

Yeah, he could think of a lot worse, too. And if it weren’t for that mark on his neck and the yoke of his own designation, he could think of a hell of a lot better ways to spend that time as well. But as it was, he’d take a friend wherever he could find one. And from the look on her face, it sure seemed like Peggy could use one, too.

“I suppose the first thing we’ll have to do is get to work on your scent,” she said.

“What’s the matter, Agent?” He arched an eyebrow as he smirked. “Don’t like the way I smell?”

She rolled her eyes again.

“The smell isn’t the problem, Sergeant, but your lack of control over it is.”

She then laid out just how much of himself he’d put on display in the short time she’d spent with him. All of his emotions, his uncertainty, his fear. They were right there in his scent. And no matter how good of a poker face he might have, all it took was one sniff to know exactly how he felt.

“So, what do I do?” he asked. “They won’t let me have any more suppressants.”

“I’ve never taken a suppressant in my life,” Peggy told him. “But I do wear blockers. I can share mine with you if you like. And as for those times when blockers aren’t an option, I can even show you a few tricks of the trade when it comes to manipulating one’s scent. They can be fairly useful in the right situation. Especially when it comes to the bedroom.”

Bucky froze at that last word, and even he couldn’t deny the acrid taint of fear clinging to his scent.

“I don’t want to talk about the bedroom,” he muttered.

“I understand, Sergeant.” Her voice took on a softer tone. “But despite your … history, I’m afraid it’s a subject that will come up. And when that time comes—”

“It won’t.”

“But if it does,” she continued even more slowly, “I’d rather you have the tools necessary to protect yourself in such a situation. You’d be surprised just how much the right scent can appease an Alpha. All it takes is the right combination of pheromones, and even the most dominant Alpha can be putty in your hands.”

Bucky snorted at that. “Steve isn’t exactly the dominant type.”

“As a friend, maybe not. But as a mate?”

Peggy raised an eyebrow. But even though she was clearly waiting for an answer, he couldn’t for the life of him think of what to say.

“Don’t get me wrong, Sergeant. I don’t think Steve Rogers is a bad man. I still believe he’s one of the best Alphas you’ll ever find. But no matter how good he is, he is still an Alpha. And an Alpha has needs. He may deny them at first, but in the end ….”

Bucky looked away. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

A heavy silence fell between them once again. And just like before, Peggy’s hand slid into his. He held it. And her warmth and her presence were nice.

Very nice.

But even though it was her flesh pressed against his, he still found his thoughts drifting back to Steve. His Alpha. Steve Rogers was his Alpha. The two of them shared a bond that was supposed to be even more sacred than marriage. And yet, just the idea of fulfilling his duties as an Omega was nearly enough to send him into a panic attack.

“I’ll talk to Steve.” He didn’t know if he was trying to convince Peggy or just himself. “I’ll … I’ll talk to Steve, and we’ll figure something out. I know we can figure something out.”

Peggy smiled tightly. “I’m sure you will.”

“But just in case …” Bucky slowly turned back to the Omega beside him. “Just in case things don’t work out, maybe it’d be a good idea to learn some of those tricks you were talking about. Just as a backup, mind you.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “And Sergeant?”

Bucky felt her squeeze his hand once again.

“Just so you know, you won’t be alone,” she said. “I’ll always be available if you need me.”

And he couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Always, huh?” He snorted softly. “Better be careful making promises you can’t live up to, Ms. Agent.”

“You let me worry about what I can or can’t do, Sergeant, and you just worry about paying attention,” she told him. “Because as far as I’m concerned, now’s as good a time as any to start your first lesson, so listen up.”

And for the next several hours, that’s just what he did.

Thanks to Peggy, he learned more about being an Omega during their short time together than he had throughout the rest of his life combined. All the nuances of scent, the tricks that could be used to ramp it up or down, and even the best ways to hide one’s feelings entirely—Peggy knew them all, and she shared them with him freely.

After all those years on suppressants, he had absolutely no control whatsoever. But by the time dinner was finished, he could at least temper some of his strongest pheromones even if he couldn’t yet control them completely.

“It’s a good start.” Peggy squeezed his hand and smiled. “Just keep practicing. Once you’re able to fully regulate your output, we’ll work on altering its expression.”

He was about to ask just how long she thought it’d take him to get to that level when a soft knock rapped against the door. A second later a familiar face peaked inside.

“Sorry it took so long,” Steve said as his newly sized-up body trailed in after him. “Colonel Phillips can be pretty thorough.”

“That’s not all he can be,” Peggy said as she stood up. “Well, now that you’re back, I suppose I’ll take my leave.”

Steve thanked her for sitting with Bucky while Carter said it was no trouble at all and Barnes just sat there, equal parts pissed that either one of them thought he needed a babysitter to begin with and begrudgingly grateful that the agent had been so generous with her time after all.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” she said as she lingered at the door. “I mean that, Sergeant.”

“Duly noted, ma’am.” He gave her a mock salute.

And after gracing him with one last eyeroll, she slipped out of the room with nothing but the faintest traces of honeysuckle left in her wake.

Bucky found himself trying to memorize the smell before it faded completely.

“She’s a nice woman,” Steve said as he sat down in the same chair Peggy had just vacated. “Sorry for not asking you first before sending her in. But after everything you’d been through, I just hated leaving you alone. And what with her being an Omega and all, well …” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess I just figured she was the safest choice.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, ‘safest choice’?”

And at that, Steve’s face flushed nearly as red as Peggy’s lipstick.

“I don’t mean anything, Buck. It’s just that … you know … well, I mean, we are mated. And if I’d sent an Alpha in here, or even a Beta, there’d probably be talk. Not that there’d be anything to talk about. I mean, I trust you. Obviously, I trust you. It’s just … God, are we really talking about this right now? Because we don’t have to talk about this. I don’t want to make you talk about this.”

“You’re not making me do a damn thing,” Bucky said in the same slow, level tone he used every time Steve was in the middle of telling him something monumentally stupid. “And as far as this conversation goes, I’d say we better have it right now.”

Bucky sat up as straight as he could, and thanks to the bed’s added height, he found himself at least at eyelevel with the Alpha beside him.

“Steve, just what are you expecting to get out of this bond?”

Steve fidgeted in his seat. Leaning forward, the Alpha slouched down with his shoulders hunched and his hands steepled in front of him. And just looking at him then, Bucky couldn’t help but think about all the countless times they’d shared moments exactly like this in the past, with Bucky grilling Steve about his latest idiotic stunt and Rogers laying it on thick as he tried to justify whatever reasons he’d had for stepping into a fight he had no chance of ever winning.

Only this time, Steve didn’t try to give a speech. Instead, he looked up at Bucky with eyes that were both sad and searching and maybe even a little terrified, too.

“I don’t know, Buck,” he said in a slow, gentle voice. “I guess that’s all up to you.”

And with those few words, Bucky felt like he’d been simultaneously condemned and absolved all in one go.

“Steve …” The Omega had to take a deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate what you did. Standing up to Ross and Connors, I mean. That … that meant a hell of a lot.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Buck. We’re friends. You know I’ll always have your back.”

“I know, punk. And I’ll always have yours. I mean it. But aside from that …”

Bucky shook his head.

“I just don’t think there’s much else I have to offer you.”

Steve’s body went still. His scent deepened.

“What are you saying, Buck?”

“I’m just saying we’re friends. We’ll always be friends. But other than that …” Bucky grimaced as he looked away. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t be any more to you than that. Not now. Not after everything I’ve been through. I just … I can’t.”

And even though Bucky didn’t have the balls to look Steve in the eye when he said it, he could still smell the hurt and rejection souring Steve’s scent. It bled through their bond. It swamped his thoughts. It left Bucky reeling under the intensity of it all, and before the Omega could even catch his breath, his instincts were already screaming at him to stop, to submit, to make it better.

He had to make this better, because whatever he’d just done had hurt his Alpha. And he wasn’t supposed to hurt his Alpha. He was supposed to please his Alpha. He was supposed to—

“Bucky?”

A voice cut through his thoughts.

“Buck? Come on, pal. Look at me.”

And even though Steve didn’t use his Voice when he gave the order, those last three words were still enough to send Bucky’s gaze snapping up to Steve’s face.

What the fuck?

“Easy now.” Steve’s voice was calm now. His giant hand was clasped around Bucky’s own. “You with me?”

And Bucky nodded, because yes. He was with him. His mind was fully, one hundred percent back. But as for before …

“Sorry.” Bucky shook his head to clear it. “I don’t know what that was. I just …”

Spaced out? Fell apart? Got totally lost in my own mind?

Bucky had no idea how to describe it. All he knew was that whatever had just happened was fucked up. He was fucked up.

Or maybe just fucked, his mind amended.

Because no matter how much Bucky kept telling himself that he was still his own man, that just because he was an Omega—even a bonded Omega—he could still be himself, there was no denying that something deep down inside him had changed. It was like some gear in his mind had shifted, and even though his thoughts seemed just fine most of the time, all it took was the right tug—or rather, scent—to send them veering wildly off course.

And right now, that scent was so strong and so close, he could hardly think of anything else besides it.

Fuck.

Just … fuck.

“Hey.” Steve gave his hand a squeeze, and that at least helped to ground him. “It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay. Got it?”

Bucky swallowed, but he nodded, nonetheless.

“And as for … us.” Steve stumbled over the word. “You’re right. We’re friends. And if that’s all you ever wanna be, then that’s how we’ll stay. I don’t mind. I know …” The Alpha took a deep breath. “I know you never signed up for this, and I’m sorry about that, Buck. God, you’ll never know how sorry I am. But the only reason I did what I did was because I wanted to keep you safe. You’re all I’ve got, Buck. I couldn’t lose you. And I don’t care if we’re just friends or … or something more. I’ll take you any way I can get you. Cause I’m with you, buddy. All the way till the end of the line.”

Steve squeezed his hand again, and it was only then that Bucky noticed the Alpha was holding the same hand Peggy had held earlier.

How strange.

He couldn’t help but compare the feel of each of them now. Peggy’s small, soft hands versus Steve’s giant, rough ones. Each of them had been strong in their own way, but while part of Bucky thought he preferred the feel of the other Omega’s delicate fingers clasped around his own, another part of his brain—a baser part—couldn’t help but preen at the sight of his Alpha’s strong hand holding him tight, keeping him close, and staking his claim.

And that thought alone was damn near enough to send him reeling.

Pulling his hand away from Steve’s, Bucky sat up straighter as he tried to get his thoughts under control.

“Nice speech, Rogers.” Bucky fought to keep his voice level. “I know that serum blew up your body and all, but I didn’t know it turned you into such a big softie, too.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

“Yeah, and you’re a punk, too,” Bucky said. “So, I guess some things never change.”

Bucky looked down as he rubbed the hand that Steve had been holding, the hand that Peggy had been holding, the hand that should still be his own but somehow felt like it wasn’t.

At his throat, the bondmark still pulsed and throbbed. The pain hadn’t gone away. Bucky didn’t know that it ever would. But he could deal with it. He’d make himself deal with it. Because as fucked up as all their shit might be, Steve was still his best friend. And the thought of turning his back on the man hurt worse than any bitemark ever could.

Still, that didn’t mean any of this was going to be easy. But that was a truth Bucky could face later. As for now …

“Just don’t go expecting me to start shining your shoes, pal.” Bucky forced his lips into a smirk. “'Cause I don’t care who put this mark on my neck, I ain’t about to be somebody’s happy little homemaker.”

Steve grinned. “I don’t know. You might look pretty good in an apron.”

“I’m sure I would.” Bucky’s smirk deepened. “But something tells me I wouldn’t look nearly as good as you did in those tights.”

“My … what?” Steve’s cheeks reddened. “Oh, don’t tell me—”

“That’s right.” Bucky chuckled as Steve groaned beside him. “Carter told me all about that fancy little getup you were wearing with the USO. The tights and those shiny red boots and the big, white A on your forehead. I bet folks thought you were just as pretty as a picture, didn’t they, Steve?”

The Alpha dropped his head into his hands, and the smell of unbridled mortification filled the room.

“I take it back, Bucky. You’re not a jerk. You’re an ass.”

“An ass, am I?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Well, now that we’re on the subject, Carter did happen to mention just how much of your ass that outfit showed off.”

“Shut up, Bucky.”

“I mean, obviously I didn’t see it, but from what she said, it wasn’t just your ass either. The front was right there on display, too.”

“Shut up, Bucky.”

“Hey, pal, I’m just telling you what I heard. Cause rumor is those pants of yours were so tight, the ladies up front could count every single hair on your—”

A pillow whacked Bucky in the side of the head before he even saw it coming.

“Hey now.” The Omega held up his hands in mock surrender. “Is that any way to treat a man in his sick bed?”

“The only thing that’s sick about you is your mind, Barnes.” Steve shook his head. “I can’t believe I got stuck with you as a best friend.”

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”

Steve snorted, but at least the guy was smiling now. All the tension had left the Alpha’s scent. And that was enough to leave Bucky breathing easier. Hell, everything felt easier.

And maybe even a little right, too.

Fuck.

“So … ”

Steve looked up at him now with that same half-sheepish, half-expectant look Bucky must have seen at least a million times before. And the Omega didn’t know if it was the result of their newly formed bond or the near-twenty years of friendship shared between them, but just like that, whatever leftover resentment the Omega had been carrying melted away into nothing.

“Enough with the puppy dog eyes, Rogers. We’re good.”

Steve visibly relaxed.

“You mean it?”

“What?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather I hate you for the rest of my life?”

“No, I—”

“Then just drop it and move on.” Bucky yawned as he settled down on his bed. “The past is the past. It’s over, so there’s no sense in bringing it up again. Got it?”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he just forced a smile. “Yeah, Buck. I’ve got it.”

“Good. Then shut up and stop worrying. That stench of yours is hard enough to handle on its own. The last thing I need is for you to start adding upset-Alpha on top of it.”

“Yeah, God forbid we should have that,” Steve deadpanned before helping Bucky straighten his pillow.

As if Bucky needed help straightening his pillow.

But still … the thought was nice enough on its own. And if Steve just happened to get more of his scent on Bucky’s bedding, then so what? The smell wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d claimed. It wasn’t even bad at all. It was kind of comforting, really. Familiar. Even right.

Wait.

What was right again?

“Get some sleep, Buck,” Steve said in a voice far softer than the Omega was used to hearing. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And even though Bucky knew he should tell the Alpha to go find a bed of his own—there was no denying Steve looked like he could use some rest, too—for some reason the words just wouldn’t leave his throat. So he just nodded mutely, pulled up the covers, and tried to tell himself that this was okay. Everything would be okay. Peggy was right. If Bucky had to have an Alpha, Steve was the best he could have ever hoped for. But still …

A sharp pain spiked through his bondmark, and Bucky flinched back with a whimper. Not more than a second later, a hand settled on his back.

“Shh, it’s all right.” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper. “You’re all right. So just relax, okay? I’m here. Nothing bad’s gonna happen. Not on my watch. I can promise you that.”

The hell you can, Bucky started to say. But he was just so tired and the lie was just so pretty, he didn’t have the heart to put up a fuss. So he let it slide. He’d face the truth tomorrow—whatever that truth may be—but until then he might as well bask in the fantasy as long as he could.

And if his mind kept toggling between two scents—one sweet as honey and the other as hard as iron—then that was fine, too. Everything was fine. It’d all be fine because … because ….

“Go to sleep, Buck,” a voice told him again.

And in the haze of his exhaustion, all Bucky could manage was a barely mumbled, “yes, Alpha,” before his eyes slipped shut and his breaths evened out.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow …

But nothing else would follow.

The hand that had been rubbing his back moved up to his head. Gentle fingers carded through his hair. His mate’s pleased rumble filled the air, and Bucky couldn’t help but lean into the touch as his Alpha whispered down to him, “good boy.”

And with those two words, the Omega’s last remaining hold on the world gave way to dark.

Chapter Text

December 1943

If Corporal Timothy Dugan knew one thing, it was this: he’d absolutely had it with all this waiting around bullshit.

For days now, all he’d heard was “just wait” and “be patient” and “it’ll all come in due time.” Well, fuck that. For nearly a week now he’d been sitting on his ass in England of all places. Mother fucking England! For Christ’s sake, if they’d wanted to get him any farther from the action, they might as well have sent him home.

Not that he’d go.

At least, not yet.

As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t going anywhere until he laid eyes on Jimmy again. But so far, that was easier said than done. Ever since they’d busted out of Kreischberg, he’d only had a glimpse of his sergeant once, and that was when the man was wrapped up in Rogers arms. Which was just … wrong.

All of this was so fucking wrong.

Jimmy wasn’t some damsel, damn it. He was one of the toughest fuckers Dugan knew. He didn’t deserve to be carried around like some squabbling baby. If he’d been awake, he would have been sick with shame. But that was just it. Jimmy hadn’t been awake. He’d been laid up worse than Dugan had ever seen. So, when Rogers lit off find a medic, Dugan hadn’t put up a fight.

Sure, get going, Dugan had thought. Carry him like a babe if you have to. Just get some fucking help.

Monty had trailed after him—and Dugan would have, too, if he hadn’t been busy driving that fucking tank—but he’d trusted the Brit to have Jimmy’s back.

And that had to have been his first mistake, hadn’t it? He should have known better than to trust anybody other than himself. Especially now. Especially with this. All it took was seeing Monty silently marching back with Juniper shuffling white-faced beside him to know that something had gone horribly wrong. But to hear the Brit talking about what Rogers had planned to do ….

A deep growl rumbled through Dugan’s chest even now.

It had taken all of Gabe, Frenchie, and Monty to keep Dugan from storming that fucking truck as soon as the major had told him the score. All he remembered was seeing red. He’d practically gone feral with rage. But somehow through the haze, his cellmates had managed to talk him down.

“He’s dying, Corporal.” Monty’s words had cut him to the quick. “A bond might be the only hope he has.”

“If this is what it takes to save him, don’t you at least want to try,” Gabe had added.

And even though he couldn’t understand a quarter of what the Frenchman had to say, the gist had been the same.

Stand down.

Let it happen.

It’s not your call.

But that was just it. If it wasn’t his call, it sure as hell wasn’t Monty’s either. Or Gabe’s. Or Frenchie’s. Or Roger’s. Or even some fucking medic’s.

It was Jimmy’s.

He was the only one who should have had any say in the matter, and he was the only one who didn’t have a voice at all.

Dugan didn’t care if his sergeant was so fucked up he couldn’t even open his eyes. They should have waited, given the man a minute to shake it off for Christ’s sake. Couldn’t everybody see that if Jimmy had wanted a mate, he could have had one? No Omega was ever short on offers, but a male Omega? Jimmy could have had damn near any Alpha he wanted. And the sheer fact that he’d chosen to hide his designation instead …. Well, hell, wasn’t that answer enough?

Dugan had said as much at the time. But even though the others might have flinched or paled at the facts of the matter, not a single one would back down either.

“If not Rogers, it’d just be somebody else,” Gabe had said. “You know how it is for Omegas.”

And Dugan damn well did know how it was. He couldn’t begin to say what all this had to be like for Jimmy himself, but he knew for a fact that in the game of life, Omegas always drew the short end of the stick. He’d learned that back when he was five-years-old. And he didn’t care how much of the damn law Gabe could fucking quote, it still didn’t make a lick of this right either.

More than anything, Dugan remembered wanting to hit something right then. The world was so much simpler when all he had to do was pound and pound and pound. He must have beaten guys faces in at least a hundred times over the years. Some of them had lived, some hadn’t. That was just the way it went in a fight. It was straight forward. Easy. But this?

Dugan had been damn tempted to just bust all their heads anyway. So what if they were his friends? They weren’t listening. Nobody was listening. But maybe if he knocked some sense into a few of them, they’d finally start seeing things straight.

He remembered clenching his fists. He’d already squared his shoulders. He could see on his friends’ faces that they all knew what was about to go down, but not a single one of them knew how to stop it. And then, right as the shit was well and truly about to hit the fan, Junior fucking Juniper just had to open his damn mouth.

“What’s it matter, anyway?” The kid’s voice been so soft yet so raw even Dugan’s rage-ridden brain couldn’t tune it out. “By now it’s already done.”

And that one truth alone had been enough to suck all the fight out of Dugan right then and there.

Fuck.

Just … fuck.

Everything after that point was more or less a blur to him now. Judging by the split knuckles, he hit some stuff. Probably a lot of stuff. He seemed to remember wailing on an evergreen that didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that Gabe found him later. He brought him back. They’d all gathered tight, but nobody had said much else that night. What could they say? Every time the wind shifted, he and Gabe couldn’t help but get a whiff of what had gone down in that fucking truck. Junior and Monty might not be able to smell it, but they’d already gotten an eyeful themselves. And as for Frenchie ….

Truth was, Dugan didn’t know what to think when it came to Frenchie.

Sure, the bastard had stood by Monty’s side when it came to Jimmy getting claimed, but afterwards, it was almost like he took it harder than anybody else. The man might not have a scent, but his face was easier to read than a newspaper. And even though Dugan considered himself half-illiterate at best, he could still see the fucking remorse clouding the man’s eyes just as clear as day.

Still, though, that didn’t make it okay.

Nothing about this whole fucked up situation was okay. And Dugan didn’t care if Monty was right and the whole bonding thing had saved Jimmy after all, Dugan wouldn’t be satisfied until he could finally take a look at his sergeant with his own two eyes. Maybe then he could see if Barnes really was okay or if they’d all fucked up royally after all.

And while he was at it, he’d like to get a look at Rogers, too.

Other than that first night during their breakout, he’d barely gotten more than a glimpse of the guy despite the fact that they were literally living on the same base. Even during their march back to camp, Rogers had been holed up in that damn truck most of the time. And afterwards, he’d refused to leave Jimmy’s bedside for anything more than a shit break. Which, come to think of it, might have earned him a few points in Dugan’s book. Because even though the bastard did take advantage of Sarge—and there wasn’t a damn thing anybody could say that would ever convince Dugan he hadn’t—at least Rogers wasn’t looking to leave Jimmy hanging. Not that that made it all right in the end, but still, it was at least enough to warrant an introduction before Dugan punched the asshole’s lights out.

And while he was at it, maybe he’d just go ahead and punch Barnes too. The damn idiot deserved it after all the shit he’d put Dugan through. But before he could go making any plans, he need to see how Jimmy was doing first. That’s why he’d taken to loitering around the back of the base’s hospital while everybody else was out making a nuisance of themselves at the local pub.

Already, Dugan had spent the better part of the morning trying to drum up any intel he could find. And now that he knew when the usual shift change hit, he figured he could just slip in while there was nobody around to notice.

He’d already made it to the back door. He was just about to peek inside to see if it was all clear. And he was damn well certain that today was the day when he’d finally get to see Jimmy after all. But before he could even lay a hand on the knob, the door in front of him flew open, a blur of a body barreled into his chest, and the next thing Dugan knew he was lying flat on the ground with a familiar body spread out across his chest.

“Dum Dum?”

Dugan checked to make sure his nose wasn’t broken before he shot a glare up at the bastard who just bowled him over.

“Damn it, Jimmy, what the hell’d you do that for?”

“For chuckles, what else?” Barnes rolled his eyes as he scrambled back to his feet. “Fuck, Dum Dum, what do you think I’m doing here? Trying out for The Three Stooges? Now get your dumb ass up and move.”

So that’s just what Dugan did.

It wasn’t until they’d put several buildings between them and the hospital that Bucky finally started to relax. Some of the tension left his shoulders. The sour undertones of anxiety were no longer present in his scent. And when they finally did come to a stop on the far end of the barracks, the relief was clear on the sergeant’s face.

“Jail break, huh?” Dugan asked him, and Jimmy just snorted.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” The Omega shook his head as he scanned the area. “You don’t happen to have a smoke on you, do you?”

Dugan pulled out a pair of cigarettes and his lighter. He lit them both before handing one to Barnes. Minutes passed as they stood there smoking, neither one saying a word, until Dugan finally broke the silence.

“Need me to kill somebody for ya?”

Jimmy’s eyes cut towards him in an instant.

“’Cause I would if you asked,” Dugan said. “All you gotta do is give me the word, Jimmy. I might not be good for much else, but I can do that.”

And he could.

They both knew he could.

Silence lingered for a second more before Jimmy finally shook his head.

“Christ, Dum Dum.” Barnes scrubbed a hand across his face. “Don’t go saying shit like that. People will think you’re serious.”

“Who’s saying I’m not?”

“Me,” Jimmy snapped. “That’s who. The last thing I need is to have you going off and doing something stupid just because I fucked myself up.”

Barnes took a long drag from his cigarette. His hand shook as he drew it away.

“You running from Rogers?” Dugan asked. “’Cause I don’t care if that bastard is Captain America, I’ll still—”

“Damn it, Dum Dum, just give it a rest already. Stevie ain’t even the problem.”

“Oh really?” The corporal raised an eyebrow.

“Really.” Barnes’ voice was clear and firm. “Me and him, we’re good, okay?” Jimmy grimaced at that. “I mean, not good good. I’m not gonna … I mean, he knows … Look, we’re working it out, so just leave it at that, alright?”

Leave it at that? Dugan snorted.

“Well, if it ain’t him you’re running from, then who they hell is it?”

“Nobody, okay? I’m not running from anyone. I just wanted out.”

Jimmy cursed under his breath before taking another pull from his cigarette.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Through it all, Dugan just waited. Minutes passed before his sergeant’s hands finally stopped shaking, his breaths evened out, and his back slumped against the wall behind it.

“Fucking doctors,” Barnes muttered half to himself. “Fucking hospitals. Fucking … fuck.”

Jimmy cupped his hands over his eyes. Over a minute passed before he finally looked up at Dugan again. And when he did, the expression on his face was equal parts shuttered and raw, like the Omega was trying his damnedest to bottle up every last emotion inside himself but didn’t quite have the strength to contain them all.

And that just made Dugan want to punch something even more.

“Listen, Dum Dum,” Jimmy’s voice came out slow and even, just like it always did whenever he turned on that fake-command of his. “I know I gotta look pretty crazy right now, but really, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just … I needed a break, that’s all. Steve’s been holed up in meetings, and Peggy’s barely got any time to come by, and every time I look up, it’s just more fucking doctors …”

Jimmy paused to take another drag. The Camel between his fingers was damn near gone already, but he still got a couple more hits before he stubbed it into the ground. Dugan gave the Omega what was left of his own smoke, and Barnes finished that one, too.

When he was done, he didn’t look any better.

“I’m so tired of doctors, Dum Dum.” And damn it if Sarge didn’t sound tired, too. Bone tired. “Always poking and prodding and never once listening to what I have to say. All they care about is what Steve’ll give the go-ahead on. And I know Steve ain’t authorizing shit. But still, just knowing what that bastard Connors wants to do …” Barnes shivered as he shook his head. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out. I just had to. And I am not going back.”

Jimmy looked up at him then, almost like he expected Dugan to argue, but all the Alpha did was give him a snort.

“Course you’re not,” Dugan said. “And if anyone says otherwise, I’ll make damn sure those doctors are too busy tending to that jackass to worry about you.”

Barnes rolled his eyes, but a smirk did pull at the edge of his lips.

“See, now that’s why you’re called Dum Dum,” Jimmy said. “No matter what the problem is, you’ve always got the same damn answer to solve it.”

And the comment was just so Jimmy and the remark was just so true, Dugan couldn’t help but let out a loud bark of a laugh as he slapped a hand on his sergeant’s back. Whether or not Jimmy flinched under his touch …. Well, Dugan would deal with that later. For now, though, Jimmy was smiling, his scent had sweetened up, and the two of them were giving and taking shit just like they did back in the old days at Camp McCoy.

It was nice … easy … familiar. All things that Barnes needed and then some. And if it was up to Dugan, he’d have kept their banter going until the sun went down. Lord knows, his sergeant could use the distraction. But before even a couple of minutes had passed, footsteps crunched their way across the half-frozen ground and an unfamiliar private poked his head around the corner.

“Hey, do either of you guys have a—”

The guy froze, his words trailing off as he sniffed the air. A second later, his eyes widened.

Fucking hell.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the bastard was smelling. And from the way Jimmy had already squared his shoulders, Barnes was well aware of it, too. Shit. Dugan wished to God the guy would just catch a hint and keep moving, but from the look on his dumb face, he was about to stick his nose right where it didn’t belong.

So what else could Dugan do but beat him to the punch?

“You got some kind of problem, Private?”

Dugan crowded into the smaller guy’s space, but to his credit, the shorter Alpha didn’t budge.

“No, Corporal.” The man managed to keep his voice at least halfway level. “I was just surprised to see the two of you out like this, that’s all.”

The fucker shuffled his feet as his eyes darted to Barnes again before returning to Dugan. In a hushed voice, he asked, “That’s Captain America’s Omega, isn’t it?”

It.

Dugan ground his teeth.

Just what in the fucking hell gave this damn greenie the right to call his sergeant an ‘it.’

The Alpha’s fists were already balled up at his sides. One punch and he could knock this little shit’s lights out no problem. But before Dugan could so much as twitch his shoulder, a hand grabbed him by the elbow and Barnes was right there getting in the way.

“The name’s Sergeant Barnes, Private.” Jimmy held out a hand to the stranger in front of him. “We’re with the 107^th. How about you?”

But the little fuck didn’t shake Sarge’s hand. He didn’t even answer his question. He just backstepped a couple of feet away from Jimmy before turning back to Dugan.

“Look, Corporal, I’m not trying to butt in or anything, but you do know you can’t just step out with somebody else’s Omega like this, right? The guy’s already claimed. If Captain Rogers hears you’re out here together without a chaperone—”

“He’ll what?” Jimmy’s voice was ice now. “Since you know Steve so much better than I do, why don’t you tell me, Private?”

The guy’s lips flapped. “Well, I …”

“That’s what I thought,” Barnes said. “’Cause if you knew Steve, you’d know he doesn’t give two shits about who I choose to hang around. So why don’t you go off and mind your own business before I start to mind yours.”

A flush rose up the bastard’s neck. He opened his mouth like he was getting ready to argue, and Dugan just shoved him.

Hard.

“You heard the sergeant,” the big Alpha shouted as the other man staggered back. “Now get moving.”

And the guy did.

Turning tail, their intruder left just as quickly as he’d come. Dugan kept waiting for the asshole to turn back, but he never did. He just kept moving until he was out of sight. Which was probably for the best, but still, Dugan would have liked to have had a chance to use his problem-solving skills on the jerk.

After all, his knuckles were just itching to see some action.

“Fucking moron.” Dugan spat in the direction the turn-tail had taken. “If I ever see him again …”

“Just let it go,” Jimmy told him.

“The hell I will. Bastards like him can’t just go around acting like—”

“Please, Dugan,” Barnes said, and his sergeant’s voice just came out so tired—so wrong—that the corporal didn’t have it in him to argue.

A beat passed as Jimmy closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders. And when he turned back to Dugan, a touch of the man’s old self looked like it might have returned … even if it just happened to be buried beneath two tons of exhaustion.

“Look, jerks like him … they’re not worth it.” Jimmy shook his head. “And besides, it’s just like you said. The guy’s an idiot. He has to be. Otherwise, he’d have figured out it’s way too late to go worrying about me having a chaperone.” The Omega snorted before adding in a much softer voice, “Kreischberg saw to that.”

Which was true, yeah, but still …

“I don’t know, Sarge,” Dugan said. “A chaperone might not be such a bad idea after all.”

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed as they shot towards him. “That so?”

“Hell, yeah.” The corporal puffed out his chest. “I mean, just look at me. Here I am, all virile and manly, just giving off all those alluring Alpha scents.” The Omega snorted at that. “Why, I bet it’s taking everything you’ve got not to climb me like a cat.”

Barnes rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched up, nonetheless. “Yeah, it’s a real hardship.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Dugan went on. “That’s why we need somebody else to keep an eye on you. Just in case you lose that battle with temptation.” The Alpha lowered his voice as he bumped shoulders with his sergeant. “I do have to worry about my virtue, after all.”

Which was enough to draw a laugh out of Jimmy and earn Dugan a shove as well.

“See, now this is just what I’m talking about,” Dugan said. “Here you are, getting all handsy. I knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, because that mustache of yours is such a turn-on.”

Dugan frowned. “I’ll have you know the ladies love my facial hair.”

“And what lady told you that? Your ma?”

“Hey now, just because a mother says it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

Their banter continued for a while longer until Dugan suggested they go get some dinner … and maybe a few drinks, too.

“Just don’t get any ideas, Sarge,” Dugan told the Omega. “I might be asking you out to eat, but you ain’t my type.”

Barnes snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Everything afterwards was easy enough. All Dugan had to do was “borrow” a jeep, and a short drive later, they’d made it to the Whip and Fiddle. The pub was a favorite amongst all the GI’s, and even though it couldn’t be much past 5 pm, the din from inside could already be heard spilling out onto the street.

“Come on, Sarge,” Dugan said as he parked their ride. “The food ain’t great, but it’s a damn sight better than the shit we’re used to eating.”

Then they went inside.

Dugan had to pause for a moment as they did.

Like always, the first thing the corporal noticed when he entered was the smell. The pub might not have been some tiny, hole-in-the-wall establishment, but it wasn’t exactly huge either. Or well-ventilated, for that matter. So, between the haze of cigarette smoke, the smell of half-burnt bacon, and the scents coming off all those Alphas cluttering up the floor, the odor took a second to get used to.

Of course, it wasn’t like Dugan and Jimmy hadn’t spent plenty of time in places like this before. Back during their days at Fort McCoy, they’d made sure to hunt up every dive-bar they could find within a twenty-mile radius from base. But that had been then, back when Jimmy was just some scentless Beta. Now, though, despite the stew of odors they were stepping into, Dugan could still smell his sergeant’s scent beside him. The Omega’s pheromones were clear as day. And all at once Dugan wondered if maybe he really was just as stupid as everybody else claimed, because based on the stillness slowly settling over the bar, coming here suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea after all.

“If you wanna go somewhere else, Jimmy, I don’t mind,” Dugan said when all eyes turned towards them. “This place really ain’t that great after all.”

But stubborn shit that he was, Barnes just slapped Dugan on the shoulder as he stepped past him.

“Nah, Dum Dum, it’s fine. Besides, we’re already here,” the Omega said before glaring back at him. “And quit calling me ‘Jimmy.’”

Then the sergeant walked, just as calm as can be, right through the heart of it all. He nodded to the other soldiers staring at him. Sometimes he’d see a familiar face from the 107^th, and he’d stop to ask how the guy was. More times than not, though, the other fella would just stutter out some half-hearted response before running away. That was if the fuck even stuck around long enough to answer him at all. And no matter what, Barnes would just keep that same forced smile on his face even though his scent practically stank with hurt.

Fucking hell.

Within minutes, the pub had half-emptied out. No one would meet either his or Jimmy’s eyes. And the air just about vibrated from all the whispers flowing through it.

Dugan was damn near at the end of his rope.

That’s it, the big Alpha decided. The next bastard who gives Sarge the cold shoulder is damn well gonna get a fist from me.

And Dugan didn’t care if it earned him a month in the stockade, he’d break whatever noses he had to if that’s what it took to beat some sense into this lot. But wasn’t it just his luck that the next bastard Barnes happened to run into just had to be the one asshole his sergeant would never forgive him for hitting?

“Junior!” Jimmy’s voice rang through the room. “Hey, kid, it’s good to see you. How ya doin? Did you make it out okay? You aren’t having any more problems with that cough, are ya?”

And even though Jimmy was all smiles and excitement, Juniper was just a bundle of shuffling feet and darting eyes.

“Oh. Oh, me?” Like Jimmy could have possibly been talking to anyone else. “No. No, I’m fine. Just … fine.”

“That’s good. Real good.” Barnes’s smile widened into the first real one he’d worn since walking through the door. “Tell you what, Dum Dum and me are about to get some dinner if you wanna join us.” The sergeant gestured to an empty table beside him. “I’ve been cooped up in that hospital so long, it’d be nice to have some decent company for a change.”

But from the look on Junior’s face, the chair Jimmy had pulled out for him might as well have been an unpinned grenade, because the private was already backpedaling before its seat had even cleared the table.

“No. No, that’s okay. I gotta get going. It’s … it’s getting kind of late; you know?”

“What the fuck are you talking about late?” Dugan asked. “It ain’t even six o’clock.”

But that didn’t stop Juniper. The fucking runt was full of excuses. It’d been that way ever since they’d started back on their march from Kreischberg. And even though Dugan knew the kid had been off ever since him and Monty had come back from that damn truck, the least the private could do was pull it together now. He owed Jimmy that much … especially after all the shit Juniper had cost him.

“Now listen here, Junior—” Dugan started to say only to be cut off mid-sentence by a jab from Barnes.

“It’s okay,” Jimmy said as much to Dugan as to Juniper. “I get it,” he added in a quiet voice before nodding to Junior. “Some other time, maybe.”

“Yeah.” Juniper shuffled his feet as he backed away. “Some other time.”

And then the private scampered off while Barnes just stood there staring after him.

Slowly, the sergeant sat down in the seat he’d pulled out for Juniper. Around them, a few men stopped to stare, but no one said a word. When Dugan caught their eyes, just about all of them looked away. Most would even slink off, too. All but this one bastard.

That one didn’t flinch at all.

“What’s the matter?” Dugan asked the runt staring back at him. “Isn’t it about time you ran off, too?”

“Why?” The guy snorted. “I’m not some spineless shit like the rest of these fucking ingrates. Besides, I like the elbow room over here just fine.”

Then the Beta plopped down in the seat right across from Barnes, and Dugan was so thrown off by the whole thing that all he could think to do was take a seat as well. He was just about to ask Jimmy whether he ought to tell this stranger to scram when Barnes finally managed to look up. That’s when the Omega’s eyes widened. His lips parted. And surprise shot through his scent.

Which was about the time Dugan started to think maybe this stranger wasn’t so much of a stranger after all.

More and more seconds passed, and still no one moved. Jimmy just kept staring while the guy across from him just sat there almost like he was awaiting judgment, and the whole damn thing was so freaky, Dugan couldn’t help but break the silence.

“Alright, is there something I’m missing here?” the big Alpha asked. “Because if you’ve got a problem with this guy, Sarge—”

“No,” Jimmy cut in. “I got no problem at all.”

And just like that, all the tension bled out of the newcomer, and the guy gave Jimmy a quick nod.

Reaching across the table, the Omega extended a hand. “The name’s Bucky Barnes.”

“Jim Morita.” The other guy shook it.

“Good to meet you, Jim.”

“Likewise.”

And Dugan would swear that something passed between those two right then and there, but he just couldn’t manage to put his finger on what it was. Before he could ask, though, Frenchie popped up on his left. Monty and Gabe showed up not a minute later. And then they were all sitting there together, the whole lot of them laughing and joking while a waitress dropped by to take their orders and Monty magnanimously offered to buy the first round.

Talk about things finally working out.

Even Jimmy started acting more like the old Jimmy as soon as he got a few shots in him. And it didn’t matter that Jones and Morita weren’t from the 107^th or that Falsworth wasn’t from America or that Dernier wasn’t even military at all. Right now, in this moment, they were all just a bunch of old buddies sharing a drink. And that was good. It was right. It was just what Jimmy—hell, what all of them—needed right now. And no matter how much the big Alpha might want some answers, there was no way in hell he was about to fuck this moment up.

After all, if Corporal Timothy Dugan knew one thing, it was this: times like these had to be savored. Because Lord knows, they tended not to last.

Chapter Text

December 1943

By the time Steve finally found Bucky, the Alpha felt like he’d already shaved two decades off his life.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Omega—far from it—but ever since they’d come back from Austria, Steve hadn’t lost track of the man once. For days he hadn’t left Barnes’ side. Then, after striking his deal with Phillips and Ross, he’d only been gone when duty required it. But every time, he’d left with the knowledge that Bucky would be right where he left him until he came back.

Only today he wasn’t.

Get a hold of yourself, Rogers, he told himself as soon as he stepped through the pub’s door. He’s not some parakeet. You can’t just keep him locked him up in a gilded cage.

But that was just it.

Part of Steve wished he could.

And that … that just made him sick.

It’s just the hormones, he told himself. Once the bond settles, everything else will even out. Until then, it’s only natural to feel protective.

Protective? A small voice whispered from the back of his mind. Or possessive?

And that was the real question, wasn’t it? Because no matter how good Steve kept telling himself his intentions were, ever since he’d left his mark on Bucky’s neck, the Alpha was finding it harder and harder to tell where his ideas of protection ended and possession began.

Christ.

Steve ran a hand over his face as he took a deep breath. His heart was still pounding. It hadn’t stopped since he’d entered Bucky’s empty room. As soon as he realized the Omega was missing, he’d scoured the hospital, threatened doctors, and nearly combed the whole base. He’d been so terrified that Connors had reneged on his promise—that the man had secretly shipped Bucky off or signed him up for surgery without Steve’s consent—that the Alpha could barely think.

Find Bucky had been the only thought in his mind. Protect Bucky.

He’d been nothing short of frantic until he’d heard a passing GI mention seeing Captain America’s Omega at the local pub. Then he just took off. He’d started running and hadn’t stopped until he’d burst through the Whip and Fiddle’s front door. And now here he stood, reveling in the scent of his newly found mate and struggling to get his head on straight before he faced the man.

Why did being an Alpha always have to be so hard?

Deep down, Steve knew he was just being dramatic, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t felt this confused since he’d popped a knot during his very first rut. Rationally, he knew he was acting crazy. Bucky was a grown man. He didn’t need to ask Steve’s permission just to leave his room. But as much as his rational mind kept telling him to calm down, his hind brain just kept screaming danger, danger, danger!

Shit.

If Steve was already freaking out this bad over Bucky going out to eat, how the hell was he going to handle taking the Omega into active combat? Because Steve might be naïve, but he wasn’t that naïve. Once the missions started, he knew he couldn’t keep Bucky by his side every second of the day. And even if he could, would he want to? War was nothing but danger incarnate. Steve didn’t mind risking his own life for the fight, but Bucky’s?

How the hell was he supposed to risk Bucky’s?

You’ll figure it out, he told himself. You’ll have to.

Because he hadn’t just made a deal with Ross and Phillips. He’d made one with Bucky, too. And since then, the Omega had made it clear over and over again that whenever it came time to fight, Steve wasn’t about to leave him behind. The idea of it had seemed so easy at first—right even—but now?

Now you’ll do what you have to do and get over yourself, soldier. Steve squared his shoulders. Because the last thing anyone needs is for you to turn into the same kind of hyper-possessive knothead you and Bucky used to make fun of.

So, Steve took one last deep breath before pushing away from the wall. He strode across the floor. He followed his nose all the way through the pub to a table in the corner, and there he found his Omega, half-drunk and slumped against some red-headed Alpha on his right.

It took everything Steve had not to rip the other Alpha apart right then and there.

“Bucky …” Steve started, only to be cut off as his friend whirled around so suddenly, he damn near fell out of his chair. Only a quick grab from the Alpha beside him kept Bucky from hitting the floor.

Steve swallowed back a growl.

“Steve?” Bucky’s face broke out into a grin. “Hey, guys, it’s Steve. We were just talking about you.”

“That a fact.” Steve’s eyes darted from Bucky to the Alpha beside him then back to Bucky. “You do know you’re still supposed to be in the hospital, right? The doctors haven’t cleared you to leave yet.”

“Like Connors ever would.” The Omega’s scent soured as his lips twisted into a frown. “Well, you know what? Fuck him, and fuck the rest of those fucking white coats, too. Not a one of them knows what the hell he’s talking about, anyway.”

Barnes threw back another shot of his drink, and Steve paused to take a breath.

They’d had this conversation before—many times before—and no matter how many times Steve had tried to convince Bucky that the medical team was just trying to take care of him, the Omega refused believe it. So instead of rehashing old arguments, Steve just decided to move on.

“You could have at least waited until I came back,” the Alpha said. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“And now you’ve found me.” Bucky raised his glass. “Congratulations.”

Steve took another breath. “Buck …”

“What? I’m fine.” Bucky turned back to the table. “Tell him, guys. Ain’t I fine?”

“I’d say that depends on your definition, Sergeant,” the British major—Falsworth, Steve reminded himself—said to his left.

But Bucky just rolled his eyes. “Can’t give a straight answer to save your life, can you, Monty?”

“Eh, don’t listen to him, Jimmy.” The big Alpha beside him slapped Bucky on the back. “You’re good. And besides, even if you weren’t, that’s what you’ve got us for. We’ve all got your back. Right guys?”

A round of affirmatives rose up from the table, and even though everyone else was smiling and drinking, the redheaded Alpha’s eyes were fixed solely on Steve just like Rogers’ gaze was fixed solely on him.

And that’s when Steve remembered where he’d seen the man before.

“You’re the guy who was driving the tank,” Rogers said.

“Yeah, and you’re the fucker who stuck his dick up Jimmy’s ass. Nice to meet ya.”

The words alone were enough to make Steve flinch, but it was the venom behind them that shocked him most of all. Around them, the rest of the table went still. Bucky muttered a curse before elbowing the big Alpha in the ribs.

“Come on,” the Omega grabbed Steve by the elbow as he hauled himself to his feet. “Everybody else has bought me a round. Now it’s your turn.”

Then the next thing Steve knew Bucky was dragging him to the bar before Rogers could so much as say a word.

What the hell?

“Nice guy back there,” Steve said just as Bucky was flagging down the bartender. “I take it he’s a friend of yours.”

“Something like that,” Bucky put in his order before turning back to Steve. “Listen, don’t pay any attention to what Dugan just said. There’s a reason everybody calls him Dum Dum. Guess you can figure out why.”

Steve glanced back at the table they’d just left. Already, the men’s talking had resumed. Smiles could be seen. Laughter could be heard. And even from halfway across the room, Steve could still smell the acrid scent of Dugan’s animosity.

“He sure doesn’t seem to like me much,” Steve muttered.

“What can I say?” Bucky shrugged. “You’re new. Dum Dum never likes anybody new.”

Rogers snorted. “I think there might have been more to it than that.”

“Oh, so now you’re an expert on all things Dum Dum, huh?”

“It doesn’t take an expert to realize when somebody hates you.”

“Hates?” Bucky laughed outright. “Trust me, pal, if Dum Dum hated you, you’d damn well know it. And your face sure as hell would, too.”

Bucky continued to smirk as downed the shot set in front of him.

And then another.

And another.

And another.

Rogers grabbed the man’s hand before he could order a fifth.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Steve said, and Bucky just rolled his eyes.

“So now you’re an expert on me, too, huh?”

“I never claimed to be an expert on anything.” Steve frowned. “I’m just worried about you, Buck.”

The Omega snorted as he jerked his hand free.

“Yeah, well, you can just put an end to that right now, pal, ’cause I’m doing fine.”

“Oh, really?” Rogers asked. “So that’s why you decided to sneak out of your room and start drowning yourself in booze? Because you’re fine.”

“God, what is your problem?” Bucky shot him a glare. “I’m not even drunk.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, and Barnes grimaced.

“Okay, so I’m not that drunk.”

“Not yet. But you will be if you don’t slow down.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” Bucky pressed. “You gonna make me, Rogers?”

“No,” Steve said slowly. “But I will carry you home bridal style once your ass passes out on the floor. I’m sure you’d just love that, wouldn’t you?”

Bucky didn’t answer, but he did flinch at the image that brought to mind. A second later, a shiver passed through both his body and their bond, and Steve couldn’t help but notice the grimace that passed over the Omega’s face just then or the not-so-subtle way he clutched his neck.

The Alpha’s frown deepened as he leaned in closer to his mate.

“Anything I can do?” Steve asked softly, and the Omega just huffed.

“About what?”

Steve shot him a look. “Don’t play stupid, Buck.”

And maybe it was the Alpha’s tone or his expression or even just the worry pulsing through his end of the bond, but whatever the cause, Bucky finally decided to drop his guard. His shoulders slumped. His head fell to his chest. And his face took on a look that was so hurt and worn out, it was all Steve could do not to scoop him up right then and whisk him off to some place safe.

Like he’d ever feel safe in the same place as you, a voice whispered in the back of Steve’s mind. Face it, Rogers, if he’s running from somebody here, it’s not too hard to figure out who it is.

And even though his inner Alpha wouldn’t stop screaming mine, mine, mine, Steve’s own conscience kept whispering your fault, your fault, your fault right along with it, too. Which wasn’t at all confusing. Or painful. Or downright debilitating at times. Not that Steve had any right to feel sorry for himself here. Not after what he’d done. Not after the way he’d—

“Just stop it, will ya?”

A hand gripped his forearm, and when he looked up again, there was Bucky staring back at him. The Omega still looked done in himself, but even after all alcohol, his eyes were clear enough to pin Steve to the spot.

“I told you we’re good, so we’re good, alright?” Bucky gave his wrist a squeeze. “You don’t have to go stinking the place up with guilt.”

Steve cringed. He hadn’t noticed how much his scent had soured, but now that he sniffed the air …

“Sorry,” the Alpha muttered. “It’s just kind of hard not to feel bad when I see you hurting like this, Buck. If I hadn’t—”

“If you hadn’t taken me, someone else would have,” Barnes finished. “I get that now. I really do. I already told you I’m not mad at you for …” Bucky paused to swallow. “For what you did. And as for this?” He waved a hand at the mark on his neck. “I’ll get used to it, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal.

Steve remembered thinking the same thing when Connors had first described Bucky’s condition. At first, Bond Displacement Syndrome hadn’t seemed like such a big deal at all. But after reading some of the texts the doctor had shared on the matter …

“… fewer than 10 percent survive.”

Connors’ words rang through Steve’s mind.

Rogers hadn’t wanted to believe it at first. He’d been all but convinced the doctor was lying until he’d seen it for himself right there in black and white. A 92 percent mortality rate. That’s what had been observed in Omegas whose bonds had refused to settle on their own. 92 percent of them had died from the same thing Bucky was trying to brush off just now, so was there really any reason to wonder why Steve worried?

Bucky would probably take it a lot more seriously if he knew the facts, too, Steve’s conscience chimed in again.

But as much as he knew he should, Steve couldn’t bring himself to share that little bit of knowledge with his friend.

Bucky was already dealing with enough right now. He didn’t need Steve to pile on any more. And besides, what would the point be anyway? It’s not like Bucky could consciously will his bond to settle. Every specialist had said the same thing: either the bond would take or it wouldn’t. Sometimes therapy helped. Treatments similar to what Connors had recommended had a decent enough success rate, too. But Bucky had already made it clear where he stood when it came to both of those options. And after already taking one choice away from his friend, Steve would be damned if he took any others away as well.

Not even if it means saving his life?

“Sounds like some pretty deep thoughts you’ve got there,” Bucky’s voice pulled him back to the present. “I don’t suppose you’d mind sharing.”

And what else could Steve do but open up?

Even if only a little.

“You had me real worried today, Buck,” Steve started. “When I came back and found out you were gone—”

“We’ve already been through this, Steve,” Bucky cut him off. “I’m here, and I’m fine. End of story.”

“But what if you weren’t?” the Alpha shot back. “Damn it, Bucky, after all that’s happened to you, I think I have a right to be worried.”

“Why? Because I’m your mate?”

“No, jerk, because you’re my friend.”

And that, at least, was enough to make the Omega wince.

For the first time that night, guilt flooded Bucky’s end of the bond, and Steve’s eyes softened as he looked back at the man.

It was all the Alpha could do not to hold him.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Steve felt every last one of the seconds tick by as Bucky toyed with the empty glass in front of him, but still, the Alpha didn’t move. Whatever the next play would be, it was Bucky’s to make. So he waited. And he watched. And he held his tongue until eventually Bucky let out a long, drawn-out breath before finally breaking the silence.  

“Look, just don’t listen to any of the shit I’m saying right now, okay? I’m just—”

The Omega paused to take another deep breath as something sharp and painful flared through his end of the bond. Steve swallowed. The Alpha started to reach out, but as soon as his fingers left the bar, Bucky flinched back on reflex.

Shit.

“It’s okay,” the Omega cut in before Steve could apologize. “I’m okay. I’m just … I’m not good company right now, that’s all.”

Steve forced a smile. “Since when were you ever?”

“Oh, fuck you, Rogers.” Bucky rolled his eyes, but the hint of a smile played on his lips. “Here I am, busting my ass trying to do you a favor, and all you can do is give me flak? Honestly, Stevie, if anything you ought to be thanking me right now.”

“That a fact?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly should I be thanking you for?”

“Well, you said Phillips wanted you to lead a team to take out Hydra, right?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky glanced back over his shoulder. “So, there’s your team.”

Steve blinked. “What? You mean those guys you were sitting with?”

“No, I’m talking about the fucking piano player.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Of course, I mean those guys I was sitting with. They’re some of the best soldiers you’ll ever find.”

And then the Omega proceeded to tell Steve all about the men they’d just left behind. He mentioned that Jones wasn’t just good with a Browning. The private could also speak four other languages, too. Falsworth was a major in His Majesty’s 3^rd Independent Parachute Brigade but also had a background in British Special Intelligence. Though he didn’t have a traditional military background, Dernier made up for it with his ties to the French Resistance as well as his knack for explosives. And apparently Morita had one of the coolest heads the Omega had ever seen. Word had it, also, that the private could handle a radio better than most.

“And the big guy?” Steve asked.

“You mean Dum Dum?”

Rogers nodded.

“Hell, he’s an idiot through and through.” Bucky grinned as he gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sure you two’ll have a lot in common.”

The Alpha rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Seriously, though, Steve, he's a good soldier,” Bucky went on. “He’s strong, he’s loyal, and he’s never once run from a fight. There’s not another man out there I’d trust more to watch my back. Except for you, of course.”

Steve snorted. “Glad to know I haven’t been totally forgotten.”

And maybe it was the bond that betrayed him or maybe there was just something in his voice, but before Steve could say another word, Bucky’s gaze had snapped towards him, and the Omega’s eyes widened in shock.

“Holy shit,” Bucky said slowly. “You’re jealous.”

“What? No.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Bucky cackled. “You’re jealous of Dum Dum Dugan.”

Steve’s nostrils flared.

“Admit it.” The Omega jabbed a finger into Steve’s chest. “Admit you’re jealous.”

Steve swatted the other man’s hand away. “Only if you tell me whether there’s something I should be jealous of.”

“Ha! I knew it! I knew it!” Bucky crowed. “You are shit when it comes to keeping secrets, pal.”

“Yeah, well, some of us don’t have as much experience with that sort of thing,” Steve muttered.

And maybe that was going a step too far, because Steve could already feel the flicker of something sharp twinging through the Omega’s end of the bond. A second passed before Bucky slowly straightened up in his seat and raised a single eyebrow.

“Really? You’re going there, huh?” the Omega asked, and Steve fought back a wince.

“Bucky …”

“Look, Steve.” Bucky sighed. “Dum Dum’s a friend. Only a friend. Just like you.”

Steve clenched his jaw, but he nodded.

“So there’s absolutely nothing here for you to be jealous of, right?”

The sight of Bucky pressed up against Dugan’s side flashed through Steve’s mind again, but he shoved it away.

“Right.”

“That’s what I thought.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Fucking Alpha hormones. I swear. All this talk about Omegas not being able to control themselves, and your kind’s twice as bad.”

“Yeah, yeah, jerk. Go ahead and kick a guy when he’s down.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s about the only time I can kick you, as big as you are now.”

The Omega flagged down the bartender again, but at least this time, he only ordered a beer.

Still, Steve frowned.

It’s too much, the Alpha inside him bellowed. He’ll drink himself to death if you let him.

But Steve ignored his instincts for now.

Bucky was a grown man. The two of them had gone out drinking no telling how many times before. The Omega had always been good when it came to holding his liquor, so why should now be any different?

Because everything is different, a little voice whispered back.

And as much as his old self might try to argue, that really was the truth of it, wasn’t it?

Steve was so lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t even realize he’d just been standing there until Bucky shoved him in the side.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the Omega asked him. “You’re supposed to be Captain America, right? So go get your team.”

And after giving the sergeant a quick salute, that’s just what Steve did.

In the end, it was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. Bucky’s friends hardly took any convincing at all. Even Dugan seemed amenable enough … as long as Steve set up a tab. It was all so smooth and simple, Steve didn’t even have to say a word as he ambled back over to his Omega.

“See?” Bucky told him in a voice that was already getting a shade too loud. “I told you. They’re all idiots.”

“How about you?” Steve couldn’t help but tease. “You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell, no,” Bucky shot back a little too quickly only to lower his voice a second later. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him.”

And it was all Steve could do not to kiss the stupid jerk right then and there.

Friend, he told himself. You promised him you’d both just be friends.

But as much as his rational side kept reminding him to play it cool, his baser instincts kept lusting for more.

Mate, his inner Alpha rumbled. Mine.

And it was only a snide comment from Bucky that pulled Steve away from those thoughts and left him falling back into their normal banter instead.

Not that such talk lasted long.

Within seconds, a hush had fallen over the bar, the piano music dwindled, and when Steve looked up, there stood Agent Carter, sporting a red dress and watching the two of them with clear amusement sparkling in her eyes.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting.” She raised an eyebrow, and Steve shook his head. The agent then gave him a quick message from Stark about some weapons the inventor would like him to try before turning all of her attention to Bucky.

“And as for you …” Her lips quirked as soon as her gaze met the other Omega’s. “I come bearing gifts.”

She held up a jar of salve, and Bucky’s eyes lit up in an instant.

“It finally came in?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Apparently the shipment arrived two days ago, but Dr. Connors insisted it be kept in quarantine until properly inspected.” She rolled her eyes. “As if scent blockers could ever be construed as dangerous cargo.”

Bucky snorted. “When it comes to Omegas, that knothead thinks everything’s dangerous.”

The two of them laughed at that, and Steve just smiled as the pair prattled on as if he wasn’t there. It was cute, he told himself. The way they’d connected with one another. He might not like Connors much himself, but he had read some of the books the doctor had sent him. And if there was one common theme he’d picked up on, it was that Omegas needed companionship.

Sure, he bond they shared with their Alphas was tantamount above all else, but to be truly happy, Omegas required the company of their own kind as well. It satisfied some deep-seated need unique to their own designation. Steve couldn’t say he fully understood it himself—as far as he was concerned, when it came to company, one designation was just as good as any other—but if Carter’s presence could help Bucky in any way, he wasn’t about to deny the man her friendship.

Steve just wished seeing the two of them together like this didn’t make him feel like such a third wheel.

“Now where are my manners?” Bucky pulled out a nearby chair. “Take a seat, Agent. I’ll get you a drink.”

“While the offer is tempting, I’m afraid I need to be on my way.” She flashed Barnes one of her all-too-rare smiles before stepping closer. “Besides, Sergeant, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Intrude?” Bucky snorted. “On what? Me and Steve?”

Then the Omega laughed outright while Carter just kept smiling and Steve stood there feeling like nothing more than the butt of the joke.

“You do know I’m right here,” the Alpha deadpanned, and Bucky just clapped him on the shoulder.

“Of course, you are, pal. Of course, you are.”

But before Steve could get out another word, all of Barnes’ attention had already shifted back to Carter. Not that it did much good. Despite the sergeant’s best efforts to entice the woman to stay, the other Omega still opted to leave.

“I really do have to go.” She gave his hand a squeeze of her own before turning back towards the door. “Try not to keep him out too late, Captain.” Her eyes didn’t even meet Steve’s as she kept her gaze focused solely on Bucky. “And as for you, Sergeant, I’d suggest you mind your drinking. Just because you’re hungover doesn’t mean I’ll go any easier on you come morning.”

“Never thought you would, Agent.” Bucky gave her a mock salute. “See you at 0600.”

“0600,” she repeated.

And then she left.

Steve was still trying to figure out what to make of their exchange while Bucky stood there just staring at the now-empty doorway.

“Mind filling me in?” Steve asked him, and Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Huh? Oh, that.” The Omega rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s nothing, really. Carter’s just been teaching me some of the stuff she learned during her training. You know … Omega stuff. She thought it might be helpful in the field—especially when it comes to fending off the unwanted advances of certain Alphas.”

Bucky grinned as he poked Steve in the chest, but the Alpha just frowned.

“You never said anything about this before,” Steve said, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“What? So now I’ve gotta give you a rundown of every minute of my day?”

Steve sighed. “Bucky …”

“It’s not a big deal, Stevie. Peg’s just been showing me different ways to control my scent. There’s not much more to it than that.”

“Then why didn’t you ever bring it up?” Steve asked.

And maybe it was just Steve’s paranoia or maybe the alcohol was finally starting to take its effect, but somehow Bucky seemed far too defensive for a matter this small.

“For Christ’s sake, Steve, don’t tell me you’re jealous of Carter now, too.”

Steve blinked. “Hey, wait a minute. I never said—”

“You didn’t have to say anything, pal. I can feel it right there through the bond.”

And maybe Bucky was right. Maybe Steve was jealous. Such feelings were crazy, he knew. Both Bucky and Carter were Omegas. Absolutely nothing could ever happen between the pair. But just seeing the way the two of them had looked at each other had felt so … familiar, in a way. It was almost like Steve had stepped back in time to all those double-dates Bucky used to drag him into back in Brooklyn. Sure, Bucky had never once ditched Steve for a dame—not entirely, anyway—but whenever a pretty face was nearby, Steve had always known where his best friend’s attentions would lie.

And Carter did have a pretty face.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Bucky’s voice cut through Steve’s insecurity. “I don’t even need the fucking bond. I can see it right there on your face. You’re jealous.”

Steve let out a huff. “Would you give it a rest already?”

“Not until you stop acting like an idiot,” Bucky shot back. “Damn it, Steve, if you start pulling the jealous lover bit on everybody I come into contact with, this whole fieldwork thing ain’t gonna work.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I am not some jealous lover.”

“Damn right you’re not,” Bucky agreed. “You’re a friend. Dum Dum’s a friend. And Carter’s a friend. We’re all friends. Got it?”

“Sure, Buck.” Steve grabbed the Omega’s elbow when the man started to wobble in front of him. “We’re all friends.”

“That’s right.” His mate nodded a little too deeply to be considered sober. “And since we’re all friends, that means we all have to be friendly, right?”

“If you say so.” Steve guided the man back to his seat.

“So why don’t you be friendly and buy me another drink,” Bucky said as he clapped Steve on the back.

And God help him, Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. So he ordered the jerk another round.

The face Bucky made when the bartender plopped a glass of water in front of him was almost worth all the fuss that came after.

Chapter Text

December 1943

Sometimes, Bucky thought, he could almost convince himself that his life hadn’t changed at all.

He still had to wake up way too fucking early. He ate the same shit Army food day after day. And he filled every waking minute of his life with nothing but training, training, and more fucking training.

So yeah, his days stunk. There was no getting past that. But really, if Bucky had to be honest, he couldn’t say his current schedule was all that different from the one he’d had back at Camp McCoy. Up at 4:30 am, lights out by 9 pm, and nothing but one long-ass day after the next right there in between.

But that was just life in the Army. He’d gotten used to it. He could handle it. Hell, at times he’d even dare say he was good at it. Why the fuck else would he have been made sergeant if he couldn’t at least hack the grunt work, huh? The Army hadn’t had a single fucking problem with him back when they still thought he was a Beta, but now that everyone knew he was an Omega?

Well, shit, he guessed some things in life were bound to change. And when it came to the Army’s expectations, he had to admit, the bar they set for an otherwise disposable Beta infantryman wasn’t anywhere near as high as the one they expected of Captain America’s right-hand Omega.

Not by a long shot.

But still, no matter how much he had to march or run or crawl or shoot or climb, the work alone wouldn’t be nearly so bad if it wasn’t for the constant surveillance. It was beyond unnerving.

Everywhere he went, people were always looking at him. Generals and colonels and majors. Captains and lieutenants and God knows how many NCOs, too. It was bad enough he had a whole team assigned to measure his competence—Dr. Connors had seen to that—but then he had to deal with everyone else on the base, too.

What a fucking shit show.

Whenever Bucky glanced up, he’d catch their eyes darting away. A back would stiffen here or a step would falter there. No one said anything aloud—or rather, no one said anything to him—but Bucky knew they talked. They had to. Why else would every room suddenly go quiet as soon as he stepped inside? Or else why would not-so-subtle whispers fill the air the second he walked by?

“You do know I’m a freak, right?” he told Steve one night over dinner. “The way people keep looking at me, you’d think I was walking around here with my dick hanging out or something.”

“Don’t worry about them, Buck,” was Steve’s steady answer to most of his friend’s complaints. “You know how people are. Change is hard at first, but they’ll come around.”

But that was a whole other problem in itself, wasn’t it? Bucky still wasn’t so sure just what everyone else was supposed to be coming around to.

“You could change the world, James,” Peggy liked to remind him whenever his doubts got the best of him. “Everything you’re doing here is precedent-setting.”

Like that little gem was supposed to help him. Fucking hell. Maybe Peg got off on inspirational shit like that, but as far as Bucky was concerned, that kind of talk just translated into one thing and one thing only: responsibility.

LOADS of responsibility.

And not just responsibility for himself or his unit, but for a whole class of people, too.

“I keep telling you, you’ve got the wrong guy,” he’d remind Pegs every time she started talking about the ground-breaking example he was setting for Omegas everywhere. “I’m just gonna fuck this up.”

“And I keep telling you, you’ve got to quit disparaging yourself. Really, James, modesty is one thing. But this self-flagellation is getting ridiculous.”

“I ain’t saying nothing that isn’t true,” he liked to retort.

To which, she’d just roll her eyes. “Your grasp of the truth is one of the only faults I’ll grant you, James Barnes.”

Which was just Peg’s way of saying she was tired of his bullshit—he knew that much at least. But as for the truth—the real truth—Bucky honestly couldn’t say he had any grasp on it at all. Everything in his life was just so fucked up. He was so fucked up. And no matter how much he or Steve or Peg tried to tell him otherwise, Bucky still couldn’t shake the unwavering certainty that something about himself was wrong.

Really wrong.

He just couldn’t figure out what.

You know what, a tiny voice would whisper. And you know who’s to blame.

Only that wasn’t right, was it?

There was no denying that the bond was at least part of the problem. It just kept chipping away at him, the constant strain breaking him down. The pain was so bad most nights, he could barely sleep. Food never settled in his stomach like it should. And when it came to his concentration, if he didn’t do something quick, he wouldn’t have to worry about PT anymore. Connors would get his wish, and he’d be kicked right out of the Army for gross incompetence.

But as for who was to blame …

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” Steve never failed to apologize at least once a day. “You wouldn’t have to deal with all this if it wasn’t for me.”

Which was true, sure. But Bucky also wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for his best friend, so … yeah. It made it kind of hard to hold it against the guy. And quite frankly, Bucky didn’t want to. Him and Steve were still him and Steve. Their friendship was one of the only certainties Bucky could still hold onto in life. And as for anything more …

Friends. We’re just friends, he’d tell himself whenever the Alpha’s scent would catch him just the wrong way. You never wanted anything else, so don’t go letting a bunch of hormones tell you otherwise.

And that was usually enough to quell any inappropriate thoughts right then and there. Of course, the pain that followed was a bitch to deal with. God only knew that fucking bond wouldn’t take it easy on him—especially when he refused to do its bidding. But most days he could handle it—he had to handle it. All he had to do was get through one day and then another and another and another.

Sometimes he really wished there wasn’t another.

“You can always quit if you don’t think you’re up to it,” his instructors liked to remind him whenever he was at his weakest. “There’s no shame in walking away.”

And God, wasn’t that tempting?

Quit.

Walk away.

Give up.

That’s what everyone wanted him to do. Ross might have promised he could follow Steve into battle, but the truth was the Army really wanted Bucky to sit it out. He was a liability. An embarrassment. No one wanted him on the field—except for Peg and Dum Dum and maybe even Steve—but they couldn’t just 4-F him either. Not if they wanted to keep Captain America happy, that is.

So instead, they just kept setting up taller and taller hurdles, making Bucky work harder, run faster, do more, more, more until right at the end, right when he was so damn wrung out he could barely see straight, they’d swoop in and say those same six fucking words.

“You don’t have to do this.”

Which was a lie.

It was the biggest lie in the whole fucking world.

And Bucky knew that. He KNEW it. But still, sometimes …

Sometimes he wished it wasn’t.

“They’re right, you know.” Even Steve decided to join in on the game one night while they were alone in his quarters. “I want you here, Buck. I can’t think of anybody I’d rather have by my side than you. But if it’s too much—if I’m asking too much—you don’t have to worry about letting me down, alright? I just … I just wanna do right by you.”

Which was the last thing Bucky needed to hear right now. Couldn’t Steve fucking see that? Back in Basic, he’d done what he’d had to do because he hadn’t had a choice. But now?

Now he had the whole damn Army practically praying he’d take the easy way out while his best friend—the rock he was counting on to hold himself up—had the gall to sit there and tempt him, too. And what was worse, Bucky couldn’t even be mad at the stupid punk for it. No, thanks to that fucking bond they shared, he couldn’t help but see—or rather feel—Steve’s side of the story. And that …

That was just a whole other mess he didn’t have the energy to deal with now. Not when it was taking everything else he had just to keep going.

So Bucky had ignored it. He told Steve to drop it just like he always did whenever his friend got some stupid notion stuck in his head. And just like always, Steve refused to listen.

“I mean it, Buck. You could go home. Be safe.” Steve’s words were soft, quiet, and way too disarming to ignore. “Just say the word, and I can make it happen.”

“And what, Steve?” Bucky had snapped back. “I get out just to end up locked up in some looney bin with my balls chopped off?”

“That wouldn’t happen.” Steve’s sigh practically thrummed through the bond. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

And maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe Steve was right. Bucky had been so tired for so long—hell, he’d been hurting for so long—so maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe he really should listen to his Alpha. He should be good and obey and please and—

And those thoughts were just about enough to send him into a panic attack right there.

“Buck?” Steve’s hands were on him then, and Bucky was just too damn exhausted to push him away. “Come on, buddy. You’re here. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Which was just another bunch of lies. Steve had to know that. And yet …

“I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do, Buck.” His palms rubbed slow circles into Bucky’s back, intermingling their scents and damn near coaxing a purr from the Omega’s throat. “But just think about it, will ya? You’ve still got your family back home. You could go back, stay with them, wait till I’m done here, and then I’d be right back with you.”

And that … that did sound good. Lord knows he missed his sister. He hadn’t seen her in so, so long. But still …

“I don’t really think that’s an option, Steve. You know how my pa is. If I came back to him like this …”

“He’d what?” Steve countered. “Turn you away? No Alpha worth a damn would ever dare think about kicking an Omega out on the street—especially if that Omega happened to be his son.”

“Yeah, well, you know how my dad is about appearances.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve said softly. “But I also know just how much sway your mom holds over him, too. And I can’t imagine a world where Winnifred Barnes would ever allow anything or anyone—even her own husband—to stand between her and her only son.”

Which was true. Very true. Only…

“She’s dead, Steve.” The words came out as a whisper. “She died months ago. You … you didn’t know?”

And from the look on the Alpha’s face, he hadn’t.

So Bucky filled him in on all the details. Or at least he tried to. The Omega might have lost Becca’s letter sometime after Azzano, but he could still remember pretty much every word. Not that there’d been all that much to say. His mother was dead. End of story. But still, he shared it all with Steve. And when he was done, the Alpha just sat there looking every bit as depressed as Bucky still felt.

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” was the first thing Steve had to say. “I should have known. I was supposed to keep an eye on them, and I just … Damn it, I let you down. I kept telling myself I needed to write, but after Project Rebirth, there was always something else to do, somewhere else to go, and I—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Bucky’s neck throbbed along with Steve’s anguish. If it didn’t let up soon, he figured he might puke. “So just drop it.”

“But—”

“But what?” Bucky pushed on through the pain. “She died of pneumonia, Steve. Wouldn’t have made any difference if you were there or not. She’d still be dead.”

Righteous anger flashed through Steve’s side of the bond, and Bucky flinched back from the force of it.

“That still doesn’t mean—”

But anything else Steve might have said just turned to white noise right then, because all at once, the pain of their bond hit an all-time high. Fire shot through his neck. It burned down his veins. Bucky clawed at the mark on his throat, but the pain didn’t stop. It didn’t let up. It just kept growing and growing and growing until—

“Stop.”

Steve’s voice—his Alpha Voice—somehow cut through all the panic, and Bucky’s hands went still. His breath caught.

“Breathe,” his Alpha told him, so he did.

He had to.

The pain was still so strong, Bucky could barely tell what was going on, but through it all, he managed to feel Steve’s hands turning him around and pulling him close. The blonde settled him down on the bed, and that …

That wasn’t right.

This couldn’t be right.

The mattress sank beneath them, and Bucky’s breaths grew faster, more frantic.

What was happening?

What was Steve doing?

The Army might have assigned them a mated couple’s quarters, but not once had they ever shared a bed. Bucky had always stuck to his nest on the floor. Steve had let him stick to his nest on the floor. But now the big Alpha was pulling him into his lap. He was unbuttoning their shirts. He was guiding Bucky’s face to the crook of his shoulder, bending his neck, pressing his lips to the Omega’s throat and ….

“No …” Bucky tried to fight it. Whatever this was, he had to fight it. But he was just so tired, and Steve was just so strong, and everything hurt so damn much already. “Please, Steve … Please, I—”

“Trust me.”

Another rumble left the Alpha, and before Bucky could even scrounge up the will to argue, sharp teeth sank into his neck.

The whole world turned white.

Oh, God …

Nothing mattered after that. Nothing else even existed. There was only light and warmth and him. Steve. Alpha.

His Alpha.

The scent of iron and stone was everywhere. He was everywhere. Bucky could feel his mate’s arms around him. Holding him tight. Keeping him safe. Their bare chests were pressed together, and that was good—so good—but he needed more. He wanted more. And if that meant he had to rip off every last shred of their clothing, so be it. He’d do it. He had to do it. He’d—

“Relax.”

His Alpha’s lips brushed against his ear, and Bucky obeyed.

He’d always obey.

All at once, the strength left his limbs. His body turned soft. Pliant. Ready.

He was so ready.

Any moment now, his Alpha would flip him over. He’d strip him down and take him. Shit, was he ever ready for his Alpha to take him. Fresh slick already dribbled between his ass cheeks. Bucky’s hole throbbed, waiting to be filled. He needed it to be filled. He was an Omega, and Omegas were meant to be knotted. They were meant to—

“ … take it like a good little bitch,” another voice spoke from the back of his mind. “That’s right, hund. Be a good dog, and I might just let you lick it when I’m through.”

And even though the voice wasn’t his Alpha’s—it could never be his Alpha’s—he could still feel the pain of a German cock splitting him open. It tore him apart. It just kept thrusting and thrusting and thrusting until the Alpha’s knot would finally pop and fresh seed would fill his hole and the two of them would lie there, locked together, while the Colonel’s teeth gnawed at his back and Bucky’s body spasmed against the floor.

“Such a good dog.” Lohmer’s voice taunted him even now. “A whore like you should make a fine breeder, indeed.”

And that …

That was something Bucky didn’t want.

Never.

Never, never, never, never, nev—

“Calm down.”

His Alpha’s Voice pressed against his mind, but still his thoughts wouldn’t settle. They couldn’t. Not when all he could feel were those arms around him, their thick muscles holding him in place, keeping him still, getting him ready for the next Alpha to step in and fuck him and breed him, because that’s all he was good for now. Just fucking and breeding. Fucking and breeding. Fucking and—

“Breathe.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“Damn it, Bucky, breathe. Do you hear me? Everything’s okay, so just calm down and breathe?”

But how could he when that had to be a lie? Maybe his whole life was a lie. There were just so many lies and he was just so tired and he just couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He could—

A hand grabbed the back of his head. Another bared his neck. Then teeth sank into his flesh again, only this time they dug in deeper. They held on longer. They turned the whole world into a bright, blinding light that didn’t let up until nothing and no one—not even Bucky himself—remained.

By the time the Omega opened his eyes again, the clock on the wall read 4:18 am. The lights were low. His body was hot. A tremor made his muscles jump. But as for the usual pain in his neck …

“It’s gone,” he whispered.

“Buck?”

The Omega’s eyes darted up, and there was Steve. The Alpha’s arms were still around him. Bucky’s head remained slumped against the blonde’s shoulder and his body was propped up in Steve’s lap just like he was a fucking child. But other than his usual exhaustion, he felt fine. Better than fine, really. Because for the first time in weeks, the constant pain of their bond was nowhere to be felt.

“What did you do?” Bucky managed to get out. And even though Steve tried to urge him to go back to sleep—explanations could wait until the morning—the Alpha finally let up when it was clear Bucky wouldn’t let the matter go.

“Well … promise you won’t get mad, okay? But Connors happened to loan me a few books on Bond Displacement Syndrome a while back, and I—Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to help you here, Buck.”

“How? By taking tips from the enemy?”

“The enemy?” Bucky could practically smell the eye roll in Steve’s scent. “Really, Buck? You think Connors is the enemy now? Because the last time I checked, we were all fighting on the same side.”

“You know what he wants to do to me, Steve.” Bucky held his ground.

“And you know I won’t let him.”

“Why? Because you gave me your word?”

“Yes.” Steve pounded a fist against the bed. “God, yes. Damn it, Bucky, after all the years we’ve been friends, can’t you at least trust me on this?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? Could Bucky trust him? Steve. An Alpha.

His Alpha.

Why the fuck did Steve have to be his Alpha?

Minutes passed while Bucky thought and Steve waited and only the sounds of their own breaths filled the silence. Eventually, though, the Omega wet his lips.

“It’s not you, Steve. It’s just … this. All of this. I never wanted my life to be like this, ya know?”

“I know.”

“Everything would just be so much easier if I wasn’t an Omega.”

“But you are an Omega, Buck.” Steve’s voice was light, soft, and not the least bit teasing at all. “And it’s not a bad thing.”

“Steve …”

“I mean it.” Steve cupped his chin, which was just … weird. Not necessarily bad, but definitely not the kind of gesture he’d expect from a friend. “I know you wanna act like nothing has changed, but it has, Buck. And ignoring it isn’t doing you any favors.”

“I’m still the same guy I was.”

“I know you are,” the Alpha agreed. “Trust me, you are just as much of a jerk now as you ever were before.” Which was at least a step closer to their usual banter. “But as for your body, Buck, it’s been through so much—you’ve been through so much—you can’t expect to just walk it off like nothing happened.”

Only that’s exactly what Bucky wanted to do. Hell, part of him figured it’s what he needed to do. But before he could even open his mouth to argue, something in their bond must have given him away, because Steve was already pressing forward, quoting facts and figures and case studies that were too much for the Omega to even think about dealing with.

“You sound just like him, you know,” Bucky said when the blonde was done. “Connors, I mean.”

Steve’s lips tightened. “He’s the only one here who knows anything about Omegas, Buck. And you’ve been in so much pain ...”

“I can handle the pain, Steve.”

“Really?” Incredulity thrummed through their bond. “Because it looked like you were getting ready to rip yourself apart over it just a few hours ago.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He could still remember the pain from before. It’d been agony. Hell. Worse than anything he’d ever felt before, even at Kreischberg. At the time, he would have done anything to make it go away. But now?

“You still didn’t tell me what you did,” Bucky said. “How you made it stop.”

The Alpha looked away.

“Damn it, Steve, you don’t gotta treat me like a kid. Whatever you did I can—”

“I bit you, okay?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “You—”

“There was an article I’d read that said sometimes a fresh bite can stabilize the bond, so … yeah. I bit you. I’d been planning to ask you about it first, but then you just went down on me like that and you were in so much pain and I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so … well … that’s about it.”

Slowly, Bucky reached a hand up to his neck as he tried to process what his friend was saying. His fingers came away tacky with dried blood.

He shivered.

Panic welled inside him, but before it could take hold, something deep and sedating poured through Steve’s end of the bond. The Alpha’s scent deepened, and it was all Bucky could do to keep his eyelids from sliding shut.

“Stop it,” he mumbled before shoving a weak hand against Steve’s chest.

His bare chest.

The same chest Bucky was still slumped against.

Why was he slumped against Steve’s chest? And why was his shirt open? Why were they so close?

And why the fuck hadn’t he been bothered by this until now?

“Just relax, Buck.” Steve’s voice sounded far more soothing than it ought to be. “The article said skin-to-skin contact helps. Scent marking, too. So just take it easy and breathe deep. I’ve got ya.”

Only that was the problem right there. Bucky didn’t want to be “got.” Not by Steve or anyone else.

So he pushed away.

Or at least he tried to.

His arms were so weak now. His neck felt like rubber. He fought to sit up, but he just ended up slumping further into Steve’s hold instead.

“This is so embarrassing,” he mumbled into his friend’s skin, and Steve’s chest rumbled with laughter.

“Now you know how I felt most of my life.”

Bucky tried to flip him off, but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

He was just so damn tired.

A little voice in the back of his head told him he had to get up. It was vital he get up. He didn’t want to be here. Not like this. Not with Steve.  He couldn’t do this with Steve. It was just too intimate. It was too wrong. It was too—

Fingers carded through his hair, and his muscles practically melted.

Damn, that was good.

It was so fucking good.

“Glad you like it.” Steve chuckled again. “Now just relax, Buck. Try to get some sleep. You need it.”

And that sounded good, too. Real, real good. But …

“I gotta get up.” Speaking was so fucking hard. “Gotta get ready for PT.”

“You don’t have to show up until 8 am today. You can sleep in.”

“Peg’s expecting me at six.”

“She can see you tomorrow.”

Bucky tried to protest, but another wave of Steve’s scent washed over him. His eyes slid shut. He tried his best to open them, but by the time he did again, it was already past 7 am.

At least this time, Steve didn’t argue when he tried to get up.

Getting ready that morning was awkward. Bucky didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know where to look. Flashes of the night before came back to him while he got dressed, and his hands shook so hard he could barely button up his shirt.

“Need some help?” Steve asked, and Bucky wanted to snap back that no, thank you, he could fucking well dress himself. But then the Alpha was in front of him and his scent was clouding the air and Bucky’s hands fell away and Steve took over and—

“This is normal, just so you know.”

Bucky swallowed. He had to blink several times before muttering back, “Huh?”

A smile flickered across Steve’s face, but it was gone a moment later.

“The article said you might be kind of out of it for a few hours,” Steve said. “It might last as long as a day. Its’s something to do with your hormones, they claim. Honestly, I don’t think anyone knows all the science behind it, but it sure looks like it helped. You’re not in any pain, are you?”

Bucky blinked again. His mind felt sluggish.

“No?”

Steve snorted. “Is that a question or an answer, Buck?”

“I don’t know.” The Omega shook his head, but it still wouldn’t clear. “Feel weird.”

“Weird how?”

But Bucky was tired of talking. The longer he breathed in Steve’s scent, the more his mind drifted away. Distantly, he thought he should be worried, but something deeper inside himself told him not to bother.

Leaning forward, he pressed his nose into the crook of Steve’s neck and breathed in deep.

“Smells good.”

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong. You’ve never once complimented my scent a day in your life.”

But Bucky couldn’t believe that. This was his Alpha, and his Alpha had the best scent in the whole damn world. It was so strong, so inviting, so addictive.

Brushing his lips against Steve’s skin, he chanced a taste, and that was better. So much better. His tongue darted out on its own. He lapped at his mate’s flesh, and pure arousal flowed through the bond.

“Buck … Buck, you’ve gotta stop.”

But he didn’t want to stop. He wanted more. He needed more.

Already Bucky could feel Steve’s cock straining against the Alpha’s pants. He reached inside his friend’s waistband. He wrapped his hand around his mate’s shaft. But before he could go any further, strong hands grabbed him by the biceps and shoved him away.

Bucky hit the wall of their quarters hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

What the fuck?

Across the room, Steve was pressed against the far wall. His Alpha panted. His cock still strained against the tent in his pants. Bucky clambered to get back to him, but a single word stopped him in his tracks.

“No.”

The Omega keened.

Through their bond, Bucky could feel his mate’s frustration. His Alpha wanted him. He needed him. He could smell the blonde’s arousal thick in the air. So why didn’t he take his Omega now?

“Because this isn’t what you want,” Steve grit out the words.

The Alpha’s whole body shook with the exertion of holding himself back. Sweat poured from his skin, and Bucky tipped back his head, desperate to draw in the man’s scent.

Steve cursed under his breath.

Minutes passed with the two of them caught like that—Steve fighting for control while Bucky whined and waited. And still that scent hung between them.

It was all Bucky could focus on.

Eventually, his Alpha moved. With shaking hands, Steve stalked across the room. He pulled open drawer after drawer until he finally withdrew a heavy ointment jar. Ripping off the top, he slathered the medication across his neck, his chest, his wrists, and—with a deep flush of his cheeks—even his crotch.

Then he turned on the Omega.

“Okay, Buck, come on and I’ll—”

But Bucky was already on him before he could finish his thought.

Pure need thrummed through the Omega. He’d never felt anything like it before. All he knew was that he needed his Alpha. He needed to touch him, to taste him, to feel him. Only … something wasn’t right.

As soon as he pressed his nose against his mate’s throat, that familiar scent wasn’t there. In its place was just the smell of astringent and chemicals. And that … that wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was Steve—his best friend Steve—and he didn’t want … he couldn’t want …

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. Just calm down, Buck. Everything’s okay.”

But was it?

Bucky didn’t even realize he was shaking until Steve’s arms were around him again. He felt the Alpha guiding him back to his fucking bed, and for a moment, all he could smell was that familiar scent again. Steve’s scent. His eyes rolled back, and he could already feel his rationality starting to slide away again. But before he was lost completely, a jar filled with that same terrible, chemical smell was shoved under his nose and a commanding voice ordered him to breathe.

So that’s just what he did.

Bit by bit and minute by minute, Bucky felt his mind clearing. His body still shook and his heart was beating so fast it was a wonder he didn’t pass out, but at least he could think again. The control he hadn’t even realized he’d lost returned to him, and with it came the realization of what he’d just done, what he’d wanted to do, what he’d—

Oh, fuck …

He threw up inches away from Steve’s bare feet.

“What the fuck was that?” Bucky grit out as soon as he could find the words. “What the hell did you do to me, Steve?”

“I … I don’t know, Buck.” Steve’s voice shook almost as hard as Bucky’s hands. “I was just trying to help. The article … it said another bite was supposed to help with the pain. It never said anything about—”

“About what, Steve? Turning me into some brainless, fucking animal?”

The Alpha flinched away, and an overwhelming wave of guilt pulsed through their bond.

Bucky cringed.

His chest ached in sympathy to his Alpha’s pain, and the urge to bare his neck and whine was so strong he could barely deny it.

But he did.

That’s just the bond talking, he tried to remind himself. You’re your own man. You belong to yourself, so don’t you fucking dare give in to those urges.

But it was just so hard when everything inside himself kept telling him to soothe, to comfort, to please his Alpha however he could, because he’d done this. He’d been bad, and he’d hurt his Alpha. He should never hurt his Alpha. He had to take care of his Alpha. He had to please his Alpha. He had to—

“I have to get out of here.”

Steve’s hands slid away as Bucky shot forward. Vaguely, he heard the Alpha make a noise. He thought Steve might have called out his name, but by then he was out the door.

Air, he told himself. I just need air.

But even after he got outside, his mind still felt … wrong. His thoughts were fuzzy. His brain was sluggish. And his impulses …

Images of him and Steve flashed through his mind again, and he flinched away at the memory.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

Bucky would have bashed his head in if he could, but he figured that wouldn’t do anything but give Connors the excuse he needed to get the Omega shipped off for sure. And as crazy as all this shit was making him, Bucky was still rational enough to know that if he had to go through this living hell with any Alpha right now, his best bet really was being paired up with Steve. After all, if a single bite could actually steal away every last shred of his control, who else but Steve would be so willing to give it back?

Nobody, that’s who, he told himself. Well, except for maybe Dum Dum.

But as much as he hated being mated to Steve, he could only imagine how much worse it would be to share a bond with Dugan. The guy’s emotions were already strong enough to stink up a whole barracks on the best of days. Couple that with a bond, and Bucky figured he would have gone nuts within the first week.

Like you aren’t going nuts now, he scoffed.

A laugh threatened to bubble up from his throat, but he choked it down. Control. He just needed control. Peg was trying to help him with that, but obviously whatever he was learning wasn’t enough. He’d have to ask her for some extra pointers later, but for now, he still had his training to attend. And he couldn’t be late for that. God only knew his superiors were already looking for any excuse they could find to excuse him from duty. And as terrified as he was of what just happened between him and Steve, he was a hell of a lot more frightened of what would happen in the Alpha’s absence.

So off to PT it was.

The funny thing was, after everything that had happened last night and into this morning, Bucky figured he’d be a wreck the rest of the day. Only … he wasn’t.

When it came to running drills, he was faster and surer than ever before. He shaved at least minute off his usual two-mile run speed. He made shots on the range that put his old record to shame. And no matter what order was given, not once did he even falter by a step.

Hell, by the end of the day, he was tired for sure, but he wasn’t anywhere near as exhausted as he normally was. Which was just … odd. It had to be odd, right? After all, he’d always thought of himself as a decent enough soldier, but basic training was enough to wear down any man. Shit, that was supposed to be at least part of its purpose right there. And yet, as he was leaving that evening, part of him wished he could have kept going. There was just something nice about letting his body fall back on its training. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to feel. His mind could finally be quiet for once. And without the pain of that fucking bond distracting him, he could finally show the brass just what his old self was capable of.

Only that wasn’t true, was it? His old self had never been anywhere near as capable as he was today. And as much as he tried to tell himself that it was just some weird side effect from Steve’s bite—either that, or else maybe the doctors were right, maybe all those suppressants he’d been taking really had been poisoning his body—he still couldn’t shake the idea that something else was going on, something he in no way wanted to think about.

“You’re to be my greatest achievement, Sergeant.” A chubby face with round spectacles flashed through his mind. “The first of a legion that will deliver the world into Hydra’s grasp. The very fist of Hydra itself. A perfect—”

“A moment of your time, Sergeant.”

Bucky spun around. Any memories of Zola dissolved in an instant as he turned to find himself facing another man he feared almost just as much.

“Dr. Connors.”

The Alpha smiled briefly before exchanging a few meaningless pleasantries—as if Bucky could ever find anything pleasant about interacting with a bastard like him—but soon enough the older man got to his point.

“I heard you did well on the field today.” The doctor’s eyes lingered on Bucky’s neck. “And I can’t help but notice that there’s a fresh bitemark on your neck. Captain Rogers’ work, I take it.”

“Sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten it from anyone else,” Bucky grit out. “Or do you think I’m just going around begging any Alpha I can find to bite me?”

“I wish I could say such infidelity is unheard of,” Connors said, “but in situations such as yours—”

“No offense, Doc, but you don’t know shit about my situation.”

The Alpha bristled.

“Sergeant, I understand you’re under a great deal of stress, which is why I continue to recommend you abstain from normal duty—”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, that ain’t happening.”

“But given your Alpha’s current wishes, as well as those expressed both by Colonel Phillips and General Ross, I know better than to believe any of my recommendations will be heeded. Still, I am a doctor, and you are under my care. And as such, that places a burden of responsibility on each of us.”

“Oh, yeah? And just what am I responsible for now?”

“Communication,” the doctor said bluntly. “I am here to observe, assess, and render whatever aid—no matter how little may be allowed—to optimize your current state. So tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Besides pissed off?” Bucky shook his head. “Fine, I guess. Hungry. Maybe a little tired.”

“And your bond? How are you handling the pain?”

Bucky blinked. “Um …”

“Or is that even an issue now?”

A sly smile slid across the doctor’s face as he quirked an eyebrow, and Bucky didn’t think he’d ever wanted to punch a man more in his life.

“Don’t look so offended, Sergeant.” Connors chuckled. “I’m a doctor, remember. I’m not looking for any intimate details.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you were,” Bucky snapped. “’Cause nothing intimate happened. Steve just bit me, and the bond settled. End of story. That’s it.”

The doctor blinked. “He just … bit you. And nothing else followed?”

“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?”

But if Connors had been smug before, the look on his face was nothing but horror-struck now.

“Sergeant, you mean to tell me that Captain Rogers bit you, and you did nothing? You felt nothing? Your mate’s scent had no effect on you whatsoever?”

Bucky swallowed. “Well … I mean, no.  I … I wouldn’t say that.”

More prodding followed. Connors pushed and pushed until Bucky finally had to confess everything unless he wanted to face charges of insubordination. But no matter how many embarrassing details he shared, the doctor never seemed satisfied with anything he had to say.

“So you’re telling me, when exposed to your mate’s scent, you lost all control of your faculties and felt the undeniable urge to engage Captain Rogers in coitus?”

Bucky’s face burned. “That’s one way of putting it, I guess.”

“And Captain Rogers refused you?”

“Absolutely.”

“But why?” The doctor looked like he was torn between crying and tearing out his hair. “The two of you were so close. You might have been able to cement your bond for good. All you needed was a good coupling and—”

“No.”

The doctor stepped back. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” Bucky repeated. “There ain’t gonna be any coupling. Not between me and Steve.”

But no matter how much force the Omega might have put into his voice, Connors just rolled his eyes at his words.

“Honestly, Sergeant, you really are going to have to let that notion go. I know that you’ve had an … unfortunate history with other Alphas in the recent past, but you can’t let that stand in the way of your mating. If you’re to stay with Captain Rogers, you’ll be expected to partake in intimate relations with him.”

“Oh, yeah? Says who?”

Connors shook his head. “Your partner, for one, I should think. You don’t really expect your mate to weather his ruts alone, do you?”

“He’s done fine on his own for this long, hasn’t he?” Bucky said. “Truth is Steve’s a big boy, and he’s got big hands. I’d say he can take care of himself just fine.”

The doctor grimaced before pushing on. “Yes, well, as selfish as your stance may be, let me ask you this: just what are you planning to do for your next heat, hmm? And before you argue that Agent Carter is capable of dealing with her own heats unaided, let me remind you that she is unbonded and you are not. As intense as a heat may be on an unbonded Omega, it’s even more taxing on one who’s bonded but missing a mate.”

“Can’t be any worse than what I went through before,” Bucky muttered, and Connors just raised an eyebrow.

“Are you willing to bet on that, Sergeant?” the doctor asked. “Because according to all the literature on bond displacement syndrome—”

“Would you give it a rest on all this bond displacement bullshit for once? I’m sick of hearing about it.”

“Yes, well, as sick as you may be, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a real condition and it is affecting you.” Connors jabbed a finger into Bucky’s chest to stress the point. “I know you want to pretend that in your case the rules of life don’t apply, but I’m here to inform you that they do. We’re talking biology here, Sergeant. Chemistry. Hard science. You can’t ignore the facts simply because they displease you.”

“And just what would those facts be?” Bucky asked. “That Steve should just fuck me till I wanna be his? Take away any choice I have in the matter all because he left some mark on my neck?” Bucky snorted as he shook his head. “You know, I used to think doctors like you were supposed to help people. But the way you talk, it’s like what I want doesn’t matter at all.” The Omega squared his shoulders. “Don’t you think I at least deserve to have a say in my own life?”

But instead of backing down—or even just having the decency to look ashamed—the doctor only shook his head pityingly.

“You really don’t get it, do you, Sergeant? For you, there is no choice.”

“Says who?”

“Your own body.”

Bucky blinked.

“That … That’s a lie.”

“Then why do you sound so unsure of yourself, Sergeant?”

But Bucky was done with listening. He was done with talking. He was done with every fucking aspect of this conversation.

So he turned and walked away.

“You can ignore me, Sergeant, but you can’t run from this,” Connors called after him. “You might not like what I have to say, but I am telling you the truth. You know that, right?”

No, I fucking don’t, Bucky wanted to say.

Only he couldn’t.

Because then he’d be lying.

You’re still your own man, he reminded himself. No matter what that bastard says, you’ll always be you.

And whether that was the truth or a lie, Bucky forced himself to believe it. He had to believe it. 

And maybe if his life hadn't changed so much, he actually could.

Chapter Text

December, 1943

If any of her peers were asked to sum up Peggy Carter in just one word, she’d like to think they would choose ‘capable.’

True, she might be an Omega, and as such, subject to some of the … less pleasant traits of her designation. But no matter what hardships had come her way, she’d made it a point in life never to shy away from the uncomfortable. When given a lesson, she would master it. When given a job, she would do it. And when given an unsavory task, she would complete it without complaint.

So was there really any possibility that she would ignore Captain Rogers’ plea for help?

“I just don’t know what to do, Agent Carter.” The blonde Alpha was currently sitting in front of her desk with his shoulders hunched and head bowed. “I know I messed up. I’m not denying that. But I just don’t know what else I could have done. He was in so much pain. I had to do something.”

“So you bit him.”

Rogers cringed. “I thought it would help settle the bond, but then …”

“It led to something else entirely.”

The Alpha looked away and nodded.

Peggy tried not to frown.

They’re a mated couple, she reminded herself. No matter what he’s done, the law’s on his side, not yours.

Which was a silly enough thought right there. After all, what side did she even have in a matter such as this? Barnes was a fellow Omega, sure. A peer, yes. And a friend, certainly. She couldn’t deny that over the past few weeks, she’d developed a certain level of comradery with the man. After all, James Buchanan Barnes was hard not to like. He was smart, funny, and a damn hard worker to boot. No matter what the task, he rose to the challenge, just as she did so herself.

Unless, of course, the odds were already unfairly stacked against him, Peggy’s logical side chimed in. No matter how much he might have wanted to resist, you knew that bond would overpower him in the end, so why are you so upset?

Which, Peggy had to admit, was the most confounding part of this whole mess. Because no matter how much Steve Rogers might profess his apologies and how much he might stink of shame, Peggy still found herself wanting to put a bullet between the man’s eyes. And that just wouldn’t do. Not when she was expected to work with the man. And certainly not when she would be expected to comfort his mate.

So she took a deep breath and she plodded straight into the conversation she knew better than to think she could avoid.

“Honestly, Captain, there’s no need to mince words. Between the noises coming from your room last night and the fresh mark on Sergeant Barnes’ neck, I believe everyone on base is more than aware of what happened in your quarters.”

“That’s just it.” The Alpha’s head snapped up. “Nothing happened last night. I mean, sure, I bit him, but that was it. I just … I wanted to stop the pain. I thought another bite would do that. And for a while, it seemed to work, but then …”

Peggy found herself leaning forward.

“Then what?”

And as Captain Rogers explained everything that had transpired between himself and the sergeant that morning, Peggy felt something within her own chest unclench as she learned the truth.

“So you mean to say you didn’t—”

“Take advantage of him?” Rogers snorted before shaking his head. “No, I knew he didn’t want it. Not really. It was just … hormones, I guess. Some side effect of the bite? I don’t know. The thing is, I never got the chance to ask. As soon as he was back in his right mind, he wouldn’t even look at me. He just lit out of there as fast as he could.”

And for some reason, that small fact inspired even more warmth in Peggy’s chest than she’d like to admit.

“That’s why I was hoping you could talk to him,” the captain went on. “I just … I want him to know he can still trust me, but I don’t know how to talk to him without making him feel like I’m setting up an ambush.” Rogers let out a deep breath. “I won’t lie. If I could do it all over again, I can’t say I’d do anything different. Seeing Bucky in pain like that … I couldn’t just let him sit there and suffer. But he has to know that I would never, ever take advantage of him. He’s my best friend. I don’t want to … coerce him into loving me. I just want him to be okay.”

And so help her, Peggy believed him on that. She remembered not so long ago wondering just what type of an Alpha Steve Rogers would make should he ever be mated. And for once, she was happy to say that all of her misgivings had been in vain. James truly had been lucky in who had taken him—even if the taking was not to his liking—but still, if what the captain said was true …

“There are other ways of helping him, you know.” Peggy glanced around, double-checking that no one was within earshot. “The methods might seem rather … unconventional, but during my training I was taught that sometimes another Omega can settle a bond when an Alpha is unavailable to manage it.”

Rogers’ brow furrowed. “How?”

“Companionship, for one.” Peggy kept her answers deliberately vague. “Cross-scent marking, for another. Even nesting together has been shown to have some therapeutic benefit.”

The captain’s eyebrows rose. “Nesting together?”

“There’s a certain degree of comfort in knowing you’re not alone, Captain. Even if your actual mate happens to be sleeping less than six feet away.”

Color blossomed across the Alpha’s cheeks. “Bucky told you about our sleeping arrangements, huh?”

Peggy forced a smile. “He needed someone to talk to.”

“Funny. That someone used to be me.”

Silence fell between the pair. Several awkward minutes passed before the Captain looked up again.

“So …” He rubbed the back of his neck. “When you say nesting together, how would that even work? Would you come to our quarters or—”

“Ideally, he would come to mine,” Peggy cut in. “Don’t worry. I’m not suggesting every night. Just often enough to give him some sense of security.”

“Because he doesn’t feel secure around me.”

“Captain …”

“No, I get it. I do.” Rogers held up his hands. “After the way we bonded … after what I did …” The Alpha took a shuddering breath. “I just wanna make things better between us. I want—no, I need—to do right by him. Bucky’s the most important person in my life, so if there’s anything I can do to help, I want to do it.”

“Even if that means letting him go?” Peggy asked.

“For a few nights a week?” Steve chuckled. “If it helps, I think I can more than manage that.”

Peggy forced a smile.

Rogers hadn’t quite grasped the true nature of what she was asking, but perhaps it was better for her if he hadn’t. Her true loyalty belonged to James, and beyond that, to their cause. Or rather, her cause, she supposed. Because as much of a symbol as she knew James Barnes could be, the man had little care for politics or crusades. It was only her own persistence that drove him forward. And since their alliance was simply born from the commonality of their designations, she’d be a fool to think that it couldn’t fall apart should the man’s Alpha demand it—especially if that Alpha cemented his hold over his mate.

But if the bond were to weaken further ….

“Agent Carter?” Rogers asked. “Is something wrong?”

But Peggy just shook her head. “No. No, just letting my thoughts get ahead of me is all. Don’t worry, Captain. Leave your mate to me, and I promise he’ll be sorted out soon enough.”

Rogers thanked her. That simple action stung more than Peggy would like to admit, but she shoved her own guilt aside.

He’s an Alpha, she reminded herself. He’s no different from all the rest.

Only … that wasn’t true, was it?

Any other Alpha would have used last night to tighten their hold over Sergeant Barnes. James could have easily found himself pulled under his mate’s thrall—which, in itself, was nothing short of terrifying. For James to have such a deep and dramatic reaction to a secondary bite meant only one of two things. Either the pair were far more compatible than Peggy had ever dared believe—an idea which she found deplorable for more reasons than she’d like to admit—or else Erskine’s formula had augmented not only Rogers’ physical strength but his strength as an Alpha as well.

That would mean his pheromones, his Voice, their bond, they’d all be amplified, she thought. And poor James would be all but powerless against them.

Which was just one more reason why Peggy had no cause to feel guilty about what she was planning to do.

James had never asked for anything that had been done to him. He didn’t want to be taken. He hated his bond. If given an out, he’d take it, and gladly. So what reason could there possibly be to feel contrite?

Because Steve Rogers is a good man and a good Alpha, her conscience pointed out. And you know he would be a good mate if only James would only give him the chance.

But that was just it. If James Barnes ever did become the mate Steve Rogers would ultimately want him to be, what chance would she have of showing the world what an Omega like the sergeant was truly capable of achieving? After all, Peggy Carter wasn’t stupid. No matter how good or kind or honest Steve Rogers might be, in the end, his instincts would still prevail. He’d be driven to protect his mate at all costs. And unfortunately for Omegas such as herself and James, that cost usually meant their freedom—and sometimes even their sanity.

So Peggy’s mind was made up.

She kept her small talk with the captain short and bid him goodbye. James would still be busy with training until well into the evening, but that was honestly for the best. Not only would it give her time to finish her own work, but with any luck, it might also keep him deaf to the camp’s current gossip. Because as with any base, word travelled fast. And right now, the only words on any of the current personnel’s lips had to do with a certain super soldier and the fresh marks he’d left on his Omega’s neck.

Honestly, she wished she could blame such idle prattle on the Alphas in their midst, but in a case such as this, the Betas seemed just as bad if not worse. After all, Howard Stark was a Beta, and she’d been forced to listen to the man’s bad jokes and barely concealed innuendo all morning. It’d been enough to damn near drive her mad.

Or maybe you already are mad, her rational side pointed out. Because what you’re planning to do certainly isn’t among the sanest of your recent decisions.

As if sane and capable ever had to go hand in hand. Really, one had to be a bit insane to take any degree of risk. And without that element of risk, any endeavor would be bound to fail. And that’s just what she was embarking upon right now. An endeavor to help both her friend and her people.

Peggy had to help her people.

Omegas everywhere were counting on forerunners such as James and herself to show the world just how wrong it had been about their designation. Omegas weren’t weak. They weren’t stupid. They weren’t inferior in any way. They were just as capable as any of their Alpha and Beta neighbors. And with James Barnes helming their cause, the world couldn’t help but take notice.

He could change the world, she told herself yet again, but to do so, he has to be bound to the cause.

Or if not that, then at least bound to her.

Once again, guilt blossomed at that thought, but as she so often had in the past, Peggy pushed it away. Such emotions weren’t fit for an agent of her caliber. She’d been trained far too well. But even so, she couldn’t stop the sudden twinge in her chest as she found James that night.

He was alone for once. She knew the other members of his team had training of their own. Undoubtedly, their duties must have kept them away, otherwise she had no doubt they would have joined the sergeant for dinner. But as it stood, poor James was sitting at an otherwise empty corner table. All of the mess hall’s other occupants kept themselves confined to the opposite side of the room. Not that James seemed to notice. With his head bowed and his elbows propped up on either side, he toyed with the half-eaten plate of food in front of him without ever bothering to take a bite.

From the other side of the room, the conversation hushed as soon as Peggy crossed the floor. If James noticed, though, he paid their onlookers no heed. Instead, he just kept his shoulders hunched until long after she sat down.

“I’m guessing you already heard about last night.” He eventually broke the silence.

“I’ve heard a great many things,” Peg conceded. “Though few of them, I would grant, are true.”

James looked up at her then. His blue eyes stared her down until eventually he leaned back with a groan.

“He told you, didn’t he?”

Peg grimaced at that. “What gave me away?”

“Besides the fact that you’re here?” Bucky snorted. “Let’s just say that after nearly two decades of friendship, I know Steve Rogers pretty darn well. And since I figure he doesn’t want to risk talking to Connors about this right now, I’m guessing he decided to consult the base’s next best expert on all things Omega … which just so happens to be you.”

Peggy feigned insult. “‘Next best?’ Really, James, you think a peacock like Connors knows more about our designation than I do?”

“Hey, I never said I thought you were second rate,” the sergeant amended. “As far I’m concerned, you’re top-tier all the way, Pegs. But there are some punks out there that don’t have as much sense as me. And wouldn’t it just be my luck that I’m stuck living with one of ’em.”

James’ gaze dropped back to his plate, and his scent turned acrid despite his obvious attempts at control. He really did need to work more on his control—or at least wear the scent blockers she’d given him. But now wasn’t the time to chastise, so with one hand she plucked the half-eaten plate from beneath him while she grabbed him by the wrist with the other.

“Be that as it may, the least I can do is offer you a friendly retreat from your worries. So quit your sulking and follow me. You’ll be sleeping in my quarters tonight.”

James blinked. “Excuse me? I don’t think—”

“That Captain Rogers would approve?” Peg scoffed. “Your mate has already given the arrangement his blessing, so what other problem could there be?”

“I don’t know.” James rolled his eyes. “Maybe the fact that you’re a woman and I’m a man and neither one of us is married to the other. You don’t think people around here might have a problem with that?”

“Why? We’re both Omegas. No one will bat an eye. Now come along. You already stood me up this morning. You’ll hurt my feelings if you do it again.”

He gave her a look, but he didn’t argue as she led him away. Instead, he just remained unnaturally quiet as they walked back to her room. The pair of beta MPs that typically stood guard outside of her hall’s wing stiffened as soon as they saw the sergeant, but upon catching his scent, each one relaxed in turn.

“Sergeant Barnes will be joining me in the Omega wing tonight,” Peggy told the pair. “Feel free to lock up after us.”

The men nodded. Peggy bade each of them goodnight while James hesitantly trailed behind her. As soon as the door closed, he froze in the hallway and stared back at the twisting deadbolt behind him.

“They really don’t give a damn that I’m over here, do they?”

Peggy chuckled. “Why should they? This dormitory is designated Omega housing. It provides all the amenities deemed fit for any Omega on base. And as an Omega, you are welcome to come and go whenever you see fit.”

James rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I mean, I know all that,” he said. “I just … I guess I’m used to guys and gals needing a chaperone if they want to visit each other private like this.”

“And do you think we need a chaperone.” Peggy lifted an eyebrow.

 James’ face reddened. “Well, I …”

“Relax.” Peggy had to fight back a chuckle as she took his hand in hers. “I’m just teasing you. Besides, you’ve been to my quarters plenty of times before. Why should now be any different?”

“Because all those other times were during the day, and they were all about business, and this …”

Peggy took a step closer. She tipped back her head to look up at him through her lashes. “And this is what, James?”

His hand slowly reached up to cup her face. With one thumb, he stroked her cheek, and she leaned into the touch.

“This sure doesn’t feel like business,” he said, and half of her agreed with him.

The other half, unfortunately, knew better.

“Come.” She deliberately kept her voice low, the word barely above a whisper, as she turned to lead him farther inside.

He followed.

Before, they’d always kept their lessons confined to the common areas. This wing held other rooms, though. There were separate quarters that at least half a dozen Omegas could claim. Of course, the only one of them currently occupied was Peg’s, and that was the room she led James to now.

He paused at the threshold.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

But James just kept his gaze on the floor.

“Listen, Pegs, I know you mean well, but if you’re just doing all this because you feel sorry for me—”

She squeezed his hand before he could finish.

“What I’m doing is trying to help a friend.” She cut him off. “So quit feeling sorry for yourself and kindly take off your shirt.”

He let out a snort. “Right to the point there, aren’t ya?”

“I find it’s often the best place to be.”

“Yeah, well, if we’re gonna be honest here, I gotta say, getting a pity fuck isn’t exactly something I’m looking for right now.”

“And who said anything about fucking?” Peg asked.

James’ eyes widened. “Well, I mean … The way you were acting, I thought …”

“That I wanted to ride your cock into the wild blue yonder?” She laughed outright at the scandalized look on his face. “As tempting as that might be, James, that’s not precisely what I had in mind for tonight. Now come.”

And this time, he was too shocked to do anything but obey.

With little to no effort at all, Peg led him to her nest. She removed his coat first then sat him down. His boots came off next. Then his socks. Her hands had just moved back up to his field jacket when he gently grabbed her wrists.

“Peg …” He let out a slow breath. “What are you—”

But she planted a gentle kiss on his lips to silence him.

“Please.” She kept her voice just as soft as the kiss. “Just trust me.”

His eyes widened at that. She felt him flinch beneath her touch, but eventually he nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t say another word as she continued to undress him.

Only a single lamp illuminated the room. It kept them both half-hidden in shadows. But even in the semi-dark, Peg could still see the impressive physique beneath her fingers. James was all lean muscle and a sculped limbs. There was nothing weak or soft about him at all. In fact, there was very little to give him away as an Omega—other than his scent, of course. But Peg had to say even that was appealing. Secretly, she’d never much cared for the deep, earthy aromas of most Alphas. She’d always found the sweet, fragrant smells of her fellow Omegas far more inviting.

And right now James’ body was inviting her to have far more lurid thoughts than she would have ever expected when she first decided upon this venture.

Remember yourself, Peggy, her practical side scolded. This isn’t a pleasure romp. You have a mission here, so get to it.

Which is just what she did.

“Help me with these buttons.”

She guided James’ hands up to her jacket, and while his eyes remained focused on her face, she felt his fingers steadily unbutton her uniform. Off came her jacket, her blouse, her skirt and shoes. When Peggy was down to nothing but her bra and panties, she gently pushed James onto his back and lay down flush atop him.

Hardness pressed into her from between his legs, and she smiled softly down at him. “I’m glad to know you like what you see.”

James shook his head with a chuckle. “Pegs, I don’t see how any man could look at you and not like what they see.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said, her thoughts at once turning to James’ mate and the rejection he’d shown her during his final trial at Camp Lehigh. “But right now, I’m not worried about any other man. Just you.”

“Now what reason would you ever have to worry about me?” James faked a grin. “Haven’t you heard? I’m just dandy.”

“Funny.” Peggy reached down to trace the fresh bitemarks that still stood half-healed against his throat. “I’d say this says otherwise.”

James closed his eyes and shivered. “I really don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Too bad, because that’s why we’re here.”

“Oh, so that was your master plan, huh? Get the messed up Omega naked and horny. That’ll get him talking for sure.”

“You are not ‘messed up,’ Sergeant.” Her voice grew stern. “And as for being naked and horny, I do apologize, but I’m afraid this is a situation of the ends justifying the means.”

“And just what are the ends here, Agent?” James raised an eyebrow. “’Cause I gotta say, I still don’t have a clue as to what we’re doing here.”

She smiled again before planting another kiss on the tip of his nose.

James blinked but still looked too confused to make a move.

He really was adorable.

“Tell me, James—” She laid her head on his chest before lightly skimming her fingertips up and down his sides. “—have you ever heard of a secondary bond?”

She could practically feel him frowning even if she couldn’t see his face.

“I … No … No, I can’t say I have.”

“That’s not surprising. It’s not exactly considered a … polite subject these days, but it is an important one. Especially for you.”

Peggy could hear his heartbeat beneath her ear: strong, steady, yet rising. His hands moved. They came up around her waist first before moving on to her back. His palms rubbed slow circles into her skin and she let out a quiet sigh.

That felt so nice.

This was so nice.

And yet, she couldn’t let her own pleasure distract her. Not when there was still business to attend.

“Most people would have you believe that Omegas can only be bonded to Alphas. And I will admit, it’s true that a mating bite does forge the strongest link two people can share. But there are other more subtle bonds—secondary bonds—that Omegas can form between each other.”

Beneath her, James went still. “You’re not talking about a sister bond, are you?”

And at that name, Peggy couldn’t help but grimace.

“Honestly, James, do you really want to bring up sisters when we’re in a position like this?”

He chuckled. “No. No, I can’t say I do.” Then he leaned forward to plant a kiss of his own atop her head. “But I am right, aren’t I?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I suppose you are. But I doubt you have anywhere near enough information to know exactly what it is you’re talking about.”

His left hand moved up to her neck. He dug his fingers into her hair, and this time she couldn’t help but moan.

“Then tell me,” he told her.

So she did.

A secondary bond—or a sister bond, as he so crudely put it—was more commonly seen amongst multiple Omegas who shared the same Alpha, she explained. Though taboo today, past Alphas would often claim more than one Omega to breed. Such practices meant more of their line would ultimately inherit the gene pool, but it came at the price of their bonds. The bond between an Alpha and Omega was certainly strong, but it took time and focus for an Alpha to manage it. With each subsequent bond that was added, the strength of the others would dwindle until an Alpha had little hope of tethering the rest of his mates to himself.

“But through secondary bonds, the Omegas themselves could create links between one other,” Peggy explained. “This resulted in a more unified whole for the Alpha to maintain. So instead of having several separate bond lines to manage, a secondary bond would join each of those lines together to form a single cohesive cord—not unlike the way individual fibers are spun together to make a single line of rope.”

“Maybe I’m just dense, but I still don’t get how that’s supposed to help me,” James said, and she leaned forward to kiss him again.

“If you’d stop interrupting me, then soon you will,” she said with a smile. “Now, as I was saying, the practice has fallen out of style. Monogamy certainly prohibits it. But the science behind it still exists. Omegas can form bonds between one another—quite easily actually. And as the SOE discovered, sometimes those bonds can even be used to undermine the link between a mated pair.”

James perked up. “How?”

She smiled.

Peggy told him all about the training she’d been given should she ever need to soften the hold an Alpha held over his Omega. The methods were simple enough. Co-nesting. Scent-marking. Touch. Arousal. Some form of intimate contact seemed to be the key above all else. But no matter what the means, it all led to the same end: an Omega—even a claimed Omega—could form a bond with another Omega without anyone else knowing it at all. And as long as at least one of those Omegas remained unbound to any other Alpha, the secondary bond would not only work to draw the two Omegas closer together but to unravel the bond to the Alpha as well.

“That’s crazy,” James said. “I didn’t think anything could ever break the bond after an Omega got bitten.”

“It’s not a complete break,” Peggy granted. “It’s nowhere near strong enough for that. But in cases such as yours—cases where the bond wasn’t wanted or often even consensual—it can erode an Alpha’s hold, give you the ability to think for yourself, to act, to live, to—”

“Choose,” James cut in, and Peggy smiled sadly.

“Yes,” she agreed. “To choose.”

She pressed her lips against the flesh beneath his collar bone, and he tightened his arms around her waist.

“I had no idea anything like this could ever exist,” he whispered. “It doesn’t feel like it should be real.”

“And why not?” she asked. “Why shouldn’t two Omegas be able to find solace in one another? Is it just because society needs us to create more Alphas? Is that to be our sole purpose in life? Breeders?”

Fire rose in her chest as she thought of all the suitors her parents had paraded before her just after she presented. Even sick with heat, she’d known she hadn’t wanted them. How could she? To them, she was nothing more than a womb. Just a hole to fuck and breed.

Not a one of those men—or in two cases, women—had known her. They just liked her smell. As soon as they’d caught wind of her scent, they’d been practically salivating with the need to thrust into her. It was disgusting. They were disgusting. And as far as Peg was concerned, her life’s goal was to keep her neck as far away from any Alpha’s teeth as she could.

She’d just about sworn off engaging in intimacy all together, but then she’d joined the SOE. She’d been surrounded by Omegas like herself. She’d been urged to mingle, to engage in touch, to practice all the ways she could use her body to break through her enemy’s defenses.

Which is exactly what she was doing now.

“In the end, I think it all comes down to trust, really,” Peggy found herself saying. “It’s so much easier to trust our own kind because no other designation will ever know what we know. Alphas and Betas don’t have to fear being taken. They don’t have to live their lives being controlled body and soul by someone else, so how could any Omega ever truly relate to one of them? How could we ever let our guards down in their presence? But around each other …” Peg stroked James’ chest. “That level of intimacy is easy, don’t you think?”

James shifted beneath her. His shaft rubbed against her hip, and he moaned.

“A little too easy,” he agreed, and she smiled before kissing him again.

“One of the few perks of being an Omega,” Peg whispered in his ear, “is that only Alphas stand any chance of getting us pregnant. And even then, we rarely conceive outside of heat. So that allows a great deal of time for outside … recreation.”

If possible, James grew harder still.

“Damn, Peg, you do realize you’re killing me here, right?”

Peggy laughed again.

She really was growing rather fond of this man.

They kissed again. This time deeper. Around them, James’ pumpkin-sweet scent merged with the honeysuckle of her own, and she breathed in deep. As they broke apart, she told him to do the same.

“I’ll give you something of mine to keep close,” she told him. “You’ll need frequent exposure to my scent for the bond to take hold.”

“And when it does?” he asked. “What then? Is it gonna change me?”

Peggy hesitated.

“As I said before, a secondary bond is by no means as strong as what you share with Captain Rogers. Those bonds involve force and control. This is all about empathy.”

Which was true.

At least, partly.

Still, from the look on James’ face, something she’d just said had torn him away from her. Though their bodies remained pressed against each other, his eyes were distant, his thoughts elsewhere.

“James?” She stroked his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

But he just shook his head.

“It’s nothing. I just … When you mentioned control, I started thinking about earlier … with Steve.”

Her chest tightened. “He said he didn’t force you.”

“And he didn’t,” James was quick to add. “Hell, with the way I was acting, he didn’t have to. I was …” The sergeant took a deep breath. “I wasn’t myself--let’s just leave it at that. But no matter how crazy I got, Steve didn’t take advantage of the situation. He knew who I was, what I wanted, and he brought me back. I realized it before, but I guess I never really appreciated it until now. Kind of makes me feel like an ass for running out on the guy like I did.”

Peggy frowned. “He did just bite you, James.”

“I know,” James agreed, “but he was just trying to help.”

“By binding you closer to himself?”

James closed his eyes and turned away. “Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Peggy argued. “You’re freshly bitten. Of course you’ll excuse your mate’s behavior. It’s what biology dictates we do. Just give in, roll over, and let them have their way with us. That’s the purpose of any bond: to make us weak and stupid so an Alpha can crawl on top.”

“Funny you should say that—” James looked back at her. “—when the only one on top of me right now is you.”

And weren’t those words just enough to knock the breath right out of her.

Damn it all to hell. How could he even insinuate she was anything like them. She hated them. She could never possibly have anything in common with an Alpha.

Could she?

“I only want to help you,” she finally managed to whisper, and James slowly turned back to her.

“I know.” He forced a sad smile. “The thing is, every time somebody says that, they seem to end up hurting me a hell of a lot more instead.”

And that just made her chest tighten even more.

“I don’t want to hurt you, James,” she said. “But I don’t want to lose you, either.”

Which was true.

Moreso than she’d realized until even now.

Pressing her cheek against his chest, she closed her eyes. She breathed in deep. She let her lungs fill with his scent, and she wondered just when his smell had become so soothing. She’d only known him for a few weeks. She had no reason to feel so attached. But there was just something about James Buchanan Barnes that pulled at her. It made her want to be near him in ways she’d never wanted to be near anyone else … ways that had led to what they were doing now.

And just what was she doing now?

Was she helping him … or just helping herself?

Peggy rolled off of the Sergeant’s chest, but his arm snagged her waist before she could break contact. He pulled her close and tucked her tightly against his side.

“I don’t wanna lose you either,” he said.

She sniffled.

As to why she sniffled, Peggy couldn’t begin to say.

“I know you’re an Omega, but you’re still a man, James Barnes. And I thought every man was supposed to want sex above all else.”

“Who’s saying I don’t want it?” James quirked an eyebrow. “In case you hadn’t noticed before, I’m more than interested.”

He gestured down to his crotch, and she laughed again before nuzzling closer. Minute after minute, they lay like that: neither of them speaking, the light and the shadows breaking up both their bodies, leaving them both whole and in pieces all at the same time.

You’re going crazy, Peggy, she told herself as she stared at the ceiling. That’s the only explanation for how you ended up here. Pure lunacy.

But as James’ hand trailed slowly down her backside, she couldn’t help but think that perhaps lunacy was underrated. After all, if being crazy felt this good, maybe she didn’t want to be sane.

She didn’t realize when James ended up on top of her, but at some point he did. His hands were in her hair. His lips were on hers. They kissed deeply. His scent surrounded her and filled her and made everything they were doing oh-so-much-more sweet.

When he finally broke away from her, he stared down into her eyes, searching.

“Last chance, Agent. If you want out, all you gotta do is say the word.”

She leaned forward to kiss him again. “Trust me, Sergeant, you couldn’t keep me here if this wasn’t exactly what I wanted.”

His eyes crinkled with his smile.

“You, Peggy Carter, are one hell of a woman. You know that?”

She nibbled his ear, kissed at the flesh right above his bondmark. “I might have heard something similar to that once or twice before.”

He laughed softly before tilting her face back to kiss her again. When he let go, he still held her close, but his eyes were distant.

“James?”

He hushed her with another kiss.

“Dr. Connors said I didn’t have a choice,” he said after they broke apart, “but he was wrong. I’m choosing you.”

She felt something swell inside her chest.

“I choose you, too,” she whispered.

And even though she hadn’t meant to say anything, the words felt right as soon as she’d spoken them aloud.

I choose you.

Only another Omega would know how much those three words meant. And James did.

It meant so much that James did.

Any remaining self-control left after that. All of her forethought and planning disappeared as she let her body indulge in the moment. James felt so good. Everything felt so good. Just having those arms wrapped around her, feeling him enter her and take her and drive into her again and again and again was beyond bliss.

This, she thought, this is what makes most Omegas fall for their Alphas.

Only James wasn’t an Alpha. He was an Omega.

On Omega just like her.

When she came, she barely had enough sense left to choke back a cry.

“Best not give the guards any cause for concern,” was all she said when she caught her breath.

“Yeah.” James nipped at her ear. “Best not.”

They made love again after that.

To say that they both needed it was an understatement. Poor James, despite all that he’d been through, was still freshly-bonded. His body yearned for a release even as his mind spurned his mate. Peggy knew that she was the safe choice in this situation. Another Alpha—even his mate—would just reignite his trauma. And as for herself … well, she couldn’t imagine ever sharing a moment like this with any kind of Alpha at all. Nothing would ever make her trust one—not fully. Even an Alpha as seemingly noble as Captain Rogers still posed a threat in her mind. How could he not? As long as he had teeth, he could bite. And all it would take was a single nip to bind her to him for good.

Just as poor James was bound to him now.

Peggy’s back arched as James thrust into her one last time. She let out a strangled cry even as she felt his own body shudder with release.

She’d never done anything like this before. She’d never even considered it—not fully. Sure, she’d been trained on how to break bonds, but she’d never once tried to do so. Before now, it had only been theory. And this … this was so much more than theory.

Above her, James rolled off. His left arm snaked beneath her, and a second later she was on top of him, her chest pressed tightly against his while his back lay buried in the mounds of blankets that made up her nest.

He kissed her again. Slowly this time. Softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and she smiled.

“I think all of the congratulations belong to you, Sergeant,” she told him. “You’re the one who put in all the work.”

He smiled even as he closed his eyes. “Always gotta have the last word. Don’t ya, Agent.”

She wiggled atop him, nuzzling in closer until her nose was buried somewhere just beneath his chin, right where his scent was the strongest.

“Go to sleep, James. You have an early morning ahead of you. You’ll need your rest.”

“What for? Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’ve got the day off.” He cracked open his eyelids to look up at her. “Or are you planning on putting me to work again so soon?”

She rolled her eyes. “I stand by my earlier words. All men think about is sex.”

“Can you really blame me?” James asked. “When I’ve got a gorgeous dame like you this close, how could I ever think about anything else?”

She smiled as she swatted him, and he just laughed again. Eventually, though, they both stilled. His body relaxed. His breaths turned deep, and he fell asleep while Peggy lay there waiting and watching and biding her time.

Now, her practical side whispered. Do it now.

So she did.

Or at least she started to.

Moving slowly, Peg slid her lips across James’ throat. He moaned, but otherwise he didn’t wake up. He just lay there as her lips hovered above the fresh bitemark still marring his neck.

All she had to do was lick him, kiss him, bite him, and he’d be hers.

At least partly.

For a brief moment, guilt flared through Peggy’s gut. She’d been honest when she’d told James she could weaken his current bond. Nesting, cross-scenting, and yes, even sex, could form a weak secondary bond between the two of them. Such a link could give James a temporary measure of freedom, but it wouldn’t bind him to her.

Not unless she tasted his blood.

Peggy couldn’t say she understood the science behind it. The SOE hadn’t bothered with many of the ‘whys’ when all she needed to know were the ‘hows’ to be effective. All she knew was that whenever an Alpha left a fresh bitemark, the wound provided an easy avenue for cross-contamination. All another Omega had to do was get in a lick here or a nibble there, and the secondary bond became so much stronger.

Unfairly strong, really.

Peggy hadn’t been lying when she’d said sister bonds were taboo, but they did still exist today. She’d read the dossier the SOE had given her. She’d studied the cases of Alphas who had tightly bound one Omega to them only to go out later and ensnare other Omegas to add to their harems. Some had succeeded in building families of fifteen or more mates. Such numbers shouldn’t have been possible. Even with a common secondary bond, no single Alpha could keep that many Omegas leashed to his side.

Not unless the Alpha had help.

Peggy grimaced as she thought back to all those cases. In every one, another Omega had been the key to it all. Not only had the Alpha’s primary mate helped select the new Omegas, each time she’d had an active roll in the claiming as well. All the Alpha had to do was get in the first bite, and his original mate would take a taste of the wound as well. Whether it was the saliva or the blood that did it, Peggy couldn’t say, but the results were always the same. Not only was the new victim bound to her Alpha, she was also irrevocably bound to the Alpha’s other Omega as well. The resultant thrall was so all-consuming, the poor victim never had a chance. She belonged to her new masters mind, body, and soul.

The whole process had been nothing short of sickening in Peggy’s eyes. That another Omega could betray their own kind—and for an Alpha, no less—was the height of treachery. But as the SOE had taught her, there was always something to be learned, even from the darkest of examples. And in this case, her superiors had learned that a fresh bite also meant a fresh chance for one of their operatives to slip in and establish a bond of their own as well.

All it took was a tiny nibble from an unbound agent, and instead of doubling the power of the Alpha’s claim over his victim, it cut the first bond’s strength in half and produced an unwavering link between the two Omegas that the unbound operative could use as a means of control.

Simple, Peggy thought, yet so very effective.

As such, the practice was a well-guarded secret, one that had helped the SOE—and later on, the SSR—gain untold intelligence from many an enemy Alpha’s newly bound mates. And while Peggy couldn’t claim she’d ever been a fan of the practice, she could at least say that the Allies had put it to good use. This was war, after all. And when fighting the likes of Hitler and Hydra, all avenues of attack had to be open.

Just like now.

Peggy’s lips hovered over James’ throat. The bite on his neck wasn’t as fresh as she’d like, but given how dramatically he’d responded to the captain’s scent, it could work. She’d heard of agents forcing a bond on bites that were up to two days old, so an 18-hour old wound wasn’t undoable. All she had to do was give him a kiss, a lick, maybe even a tiny nibble, and he’d be hers without him even knowing.

So why was she hesitating?

You said it yourself, Peggy Carter, you need him. The cause needs him. He’s an irreplaceable asset, so just take him now and ensure he doesn’t get away.

God, she didn’t want him to get away.

Lying there atop him, Peggy watched the man sleep. He looked so peaceful now. All the tension was gone from his face. The pain she’d grown so used to seeing no longer tightened his jaw. His whole body was open, relaxed, and vulnerable. He was so very, very vulnerable, and here she was preparing to take advantage.

Just like an Alpha.

Her own throat tightened so much she could barely swallow.

Don’t overthink this, her inner analytic said. In the end, you’ll be helping him. This will open his eyes. It will give him at least some measure of freedom.

And drive a permanent wedge between him and his Alpha that would never be repaired.

Part of Peggy beamed at that thought while another part just felt … what?

He never wanted that bond, Peggy tried to tell herself. Steve Rogers took James without his consent. He wasn’t supposed to be that man’s mate.

He was supposed to be hers.

The idea struck her so hard, Peggy’s breath froze inside her chest.

Where had that even come from? Even as a child, Peggy had never been prone to such infatuations. She was pragmatic, focused, and above all else, practical. She’d never wasted time on love. For an Omega such as herself, the concept was laughable at best. After all, how could she fall in love when her kind was never given a choice? Such luxuries were stolen away from all Omegas by the Alphas who claimed them.

As if you aren’t trying to do the same, Peggy’s conscience declared. You would damn Steve Rogers for binding James to him when all day long you’ve been planning to claim him for yourself. And for what? A righteous cause or your own satisfaction?

Peggy squeezed her eyes shut.

She wasn’t doing this for herself. No, she wasn’t that selfish. Her people needed a hero. James could be that hero. He was strong. He was smart. He was kind and funny and handsome and …

And she was even more gone than she’d ever thought.

Sweet Lord, how had it ever come to this?

“I was supposed to be the strong one, you know,” she whispered down to him. “All my life, I’ve been praised for being level-headed. I could stay on task no matter what the distraction.”

Peggy stroked his hair, and James sighed in his sleep. She smiled.

“All that was before I met you, of course. Now … things are more complicated.”

She let out a sigh of her own, but for an entirely different reason.

What was she going to do?

What could she do?

Peggy turned her eyes back to the mark on James’ throat, and she swallowed.

An Alpha had done that to him. Twice now he’d been bitten, and each time without his consent. Not that Omegas were ever afforded consent, but still, James hadn’t wanted either mark, and here she was planning on sneaking in a third. What in Christ’s name was she thinking?

You were thinking that this might be the only way you can keep him, the truth spoke out. Steve Rogers isn’t just a powerful Alpha; he’s also James Barnes’ best friend. And as much as James might claim he never wanted the captain as a mate, you’ve seen just how strongly the two react to one another. The bond will win him over in time. It always does. James will continue to slip away from you bit by bit until every last shred of his self belongs to Steve Rogers and you’re left with nothing but the memory of a man you could have loved.

And then you’ll truly be alone.

God, but she was tired of being alone.

A sob pressed against the back of Peggy’s throat, but she swallowed it down. Focus, Peggy. Think. Act.

All she had to do was brush her lips across the wound. Even that should be enough. Then she could guarantee he wouldn’t leave her. Not fully, at least. Captain Rogers would have a pull of his own, but at least Peggy would have a chance. She could ensure James wouldn’t forget her. He’d be bound to her. So no matter what happened from here on out, at least a part of him would always be hers. She’d never lose him. But then again, she could never claim she’d ever really had him.

Not if she didn’t give him a choice.

Carefully, Peggy dropped her head back to James’ chest.

“I blame you for this, you know.” Her lips were far away from his neck as she kissed the spot directly over his heart. “You’re making me soft, James Barnes. That’s a dangerous quality for a spy.”

“Not such a bad one for a lover, though.”

Peggy stilled. She looked up at him then and this time James was looking back at her.

“You were supposed to be asleep,” was all she could think to say.

He carded his fingers through her hair. “So were you.”

Peggy’s lips parted, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. “James, I …”

“From what I can tell, you seem to have some mighty deep thoughts going on up there.” He stroked his thumb across her temple. “I don’t suppose you’d mind filling me in?”

She started to brush him off, but for some reason, she just … couldn’t. So instead, she did the one thing her superiors had told her never to do.

She told the truth.

Lying there atop him, Peg confessed everything. She told him all about her plans to trap him. She shared all the details about the bonding she’d purposefully withheld from him before. She admitted her initial motivations as well as her selfishness. And when she was finished, she closed her lips and held her breath, just waiting for him to cut ties with her forever.

Only … he didn’t.

Gently, James cupped her face in his hands. With his thumbs, he wiped away the tears she hadn’t even known she’d been crying.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m usually not so … ”

Weak?

Selfish?

“Human?” James finished for her.

And she had no idea what to say to that.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Lying there in the dark, Peggy waited for James to make the first move. But instead, he seemed content to just watch her. One of his hands moved to her hair, and he stroked her, petted her, while she kept staring down at him and he just kept staring back.

Eventually, he smiled.

“You think I’m mad at you.”

She snorted. “Why wouldn’t you be? After everything I did—”

“Almost did.”

She frowned. “What?”

Sitting up, he kissed her on the nose just like she’d kissed him earlier. And that … That didn’t make sense.

None of this made any sense.

Maneuvering them both, James sat down with his back to the wall while he pulled her into his lap.  She felt just like a child then—a naughty, guilty child, one who certainly deserved to be punished. But instead of giving her a smacked bottom, James just stroked her back.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Pegs,” he told her, and damn but if that didn’t make her want to cry even more. “I mean it. You thought about it, sure, but you didn’t do it. And that means a lot. Especially to me.”

He kissed her again, and she kissed him back.

God, this was perfect. He was perfect. And that’s what made it hurt all the more.

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle losing you,” she said as she pulled away. “We’ve barely had any time together, and already I feel too attached.”

“Then don’t let me go,” he told her.

Peggy frowned. “I don’t want to, but Rogers—”

“Is my friend,” Bucky finished. “Only my friend.”

Which might be true enough now, but given time …

James’ lips trailed kisses up her neck, and all other thought left Peggy’s mind.

“I didn’t choose him,” James whispered into her ear. “I’m choosing you.”

Peggy went still.

“James, you don’t know what you’re saying. If you really knew me—”

“Who’s to say I don’t?” he challenged. “We might not have known each other that long, but I can already tell you’re strong and smart and stubborn. You’ve got a temper underneath that well-mannered exterior, but there’s a kindness there, too. You legitimately care about people.” His voice softened. “You care about me. Or am I missing the mark entirely?”

Her chest tightened. “No, I’d say your aim’s as good as ever.”

He smiled before kissing her again. “Then finish what you started.”

And before she could ask what he meant, he’d already craned his neck to the side, exposing his throat and the fresh bitemark marring his skin.

Her breath caught.

“James, I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair. You and Rogers are already so compatible. Given time—”

“What? I’d realize he was the one I was 'meant for' all along? Or rather, the bond would make me realize it.” James snorted. “Fuck that. I’m sick of having all my choices taken away. And I’m sick of people telling me how I should or shouldn’t be. I love Steve like a brother, Pegs, but I don’t want him for a mate. I want you. And if this bond could give me that chance—hell, give us that chance—then damn straight I want to try it. Don’t you?”

Peggy blinked away the wetness in her eyes.

“Given what I was planning, I’d say you already know where I stand,” she said. “But I need to know you’re sure. This can’t be some sudden whim, James, because if we do this, there’s no going back. We’ll be bound together whether you like it or not.”

James let out a soft laugh. “Hell, Pegs, I’ve already got one bond I didn’t ask for. The way I figure, at least this way, I’ll have one I did.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not exactly comforting logic.”

“Oh, really?” He wrapped his arms around her. “Then how about this. I’m kinda sold on you, Peggy Carter. I didn’t want to say it before, since I didn’t figure there was any chance of you feeling the same way, but yeah, I’ve been falling for you for a while now. And I mean, honestly, how could I not? You’re damn near perfect.”

This time, it was Peggy’s turn to snort. “I’d hardly say that.”

James shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s true. You don’t have red hair, but that’s one fault I’m willing to live with.”

She swatted him across the shoulder, and he laughed.

“Seriously, though—” He kissed her forehead. “—the way I feel about you, I don’t want to lose that. And this morning, I did. When Steve bit me, it’s like every last shred of myself was gone. All it took was one whiff of his scent, and I was his. I wanted to be his. All that mattered in life was pleasing him, and that’s not …” He took a deep breath. “That’s not how I want my life to be. I’ve gotta have at least some sense of freedom, or what’s the point of even being alive at all? But as much as Steve keeps saying he gets that, I don’t think he does. Not deep down. Not when his instincts keep telling him otherwise. But you, Pegs?”

James pressed his forehead against hers before reaching up to cup her face in his hands.

“You get it, don’t you?” he asked. “You know what it’s like to be an Omega. You can understand me like no one else ever could, so that’s why I trust you with this. If you say this bond could help me hold onto myself, then I’m all for it. And if you’re telling me it could draw us even closer together, then I’m all for that, too. Because I wasn’t lying before. I chose you, Pegs. I’ll always choose you. And if one bite could help me hold onto that choice, then by God, I say bite away.”

He kissed her then, and she kissed him right back.

They didn’t break apart for a long time.

“I’ll give you one thing, James Barnes,” Peg said as she paused for breath. “You certainly know how to make a point.”

He chuckled before taking her hand.

“I meant it,” he said. “I want this. You. Always.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I’ll always choose you.”

And by damn if her sentimental side wasn’t getting the best of her, because she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes once again.

“I’ll always choose you, too.”

Then she kissed him once on the lips, then the cheek, then the jaw before finally pausing at his throat.

“Always?” she whispered.

“Always,” he confirmed.

And before she could think any further, she dropped her lips to his skin, to the very wound his mate had given him not even a day before, and ever so gently she sank her teeth into his flesh.

Chapter Text

December 1943

Steve Rogers knew that military operations required planning, and planning required intel, and intel required time. But after spending nearly a month cooped up in London, he was more than ready to do something other than just sit and study and listen to people talk.

“Oh, give it a rest, Cap,” Morita told him one night at the pub. “Out of everybody on this base, you’ve gotta be having the least hard time of all.”

“Really? And how’s that?”

But instead of answering, Morita just raised an eyebrow and slowly turned to his gaze towards the other end of the room, right to where Bucky stood casually leaning against the bar.

Steve’s cheeks went hot.

Objectively, Steve knew Morita didn’t mean anything by the comment. Steve and Bucky were bonded. Of course people made assumptions about what went on in their room each night. His enhanced hearing couldn’t help but pick up the occasional lewd comment from servicemen here or there. Lately, all they seemed to talk about was how Captain America’s Omega must be really insatiable in bed if even a super soldier had to kick him out every now and then just so he could get some rest.

As if that was ever a problem.

Steve let his eyes linger on Bucky. The man really did look good. Any weight that he might have lost since Kreischburg had fully returned along with enough muscle to fill out his uniform quite nicely. His posture was relaxed, his mood light. And based on the only occasional flare erupting from Bucky’s side of the bond, Steve was happy to say the Omega’s pain was mostly gone … at least for now.

So why was it that seeing his friend not only healthy but even happy, too, left Steve feeling nothing but empty inside?

“Gotta say, Cap,” Morita was speaking to him again. “A month ago, I woulda never thought any of us would ever be here. Back on friendly soil. Free. Alive. Especially him.” The Beta nodded towards Bucky again. “I won’t lie. For a while there, I was kinda hoping Barnes would die. It’s a shit thing to say, I know. But after seeing what those bastards kept putting him through day after day …” Morita paused before throwing back another shot. “All I can say is it seemed like his best option, you know?”

Steve’s fingers tightened around his glass.

No, he couldn’t say he did know. Maybe it was the Alpha in him or maybe it was the bond or maybe it was just the near-lifetime of friendship he’d shared with the jerk, but whatever the reason, Steve knew that no matter how bad off Bucky’s life might have been, he would have never wanted his best friend to die. How could he? Life without Bucky had seemed unthinkable before the bond, but now?

Steve grimaced.

Beside him, Morita took yet another long gulp from his glass. Steve hadn’t kept count of how many drinks the Beta had polished off tonight, but already the man’s eyes had turned glassy and his speech more than a bit slurred. When he swayed, Steve caught him by the arm.

“I think it’s about time you sat down for a while,” the captain said.

“Oh, give it up, Cap. You don’t have to waste your excuses on me. We both know you’re itching to get back over there to Barnes, so just go already.”

The Beta flapped a hand in the direction of the bar and almost ended up taking a nose-dive into the floor.

“That’s it,” Steve said. “You’ve had enough for the night. Come on. Let’s get you to a table, then I’m finding you a ride back to base.”

More protests followed, but eventually Steve wrangled the smaller man into a chair. Jones, apparently the only man in Rogers’ outfit who hadn’t chosen to get sloshed that night, offered to drive the Beta home.

Good man, Steve thought as he watched the other Alpha leave to find a car. Responsible. Dependable. And a lot more level-headed than the other knothead on my team.

Which wasn’t saying much, Steve granted. When it came to comparisons, just about anyone could outmatch Dum Dum Dugan in Steve’s opinion … except in a fight, of course. The red-headed Alpha might not be much of a match for a super soldier, but Steve had to admit the guy was big enough and strong enough and damn well stubborn enough to finish just about any fight he started.

But then again, so were most bullies.

“Dum Dum’s a lot of things, but he ain’t no bully,” Bucky had told him the one time Steve chose to voice his thoughts. “I’ve known him since Fort McCoy, Steve, so trust me when I say there ain’t a guy out there you’d rather have on your side.”

Which was half the problem right there.

No matter what the situation, whenever the other Alpha got the chance, he was always right there at Bucky’s side.

Just like now.

Steve stole a glance in his best friend’s direction, and sure enough there was Dugan leaning against the bar just to Bucky’s right. The big man’s bowler hat bobbed as he spoke and his mustache twitched up in a smile just before he made some comment that left the Omega laughing so hard he half-collapsed on the Alpha beside him.

And that alone made something dark and primal inside Steve want to lunge across the room and rip the other Alpha to pieces.

Mine, a voice deep within him growled. Bucky is mine. No one else can touch him.

But that was just crazy hindbrain talk. And as much as Steve’s baser instincts craved to defend, claim, and even possess his friend, he shoved all those urges back into the shadows where they belonged.

You saw what happened the last time you gave into your nature, Steve reminded himself. You might have thought you were helping, but that bite did nearly as much harm as it did good. If Bucky hadn’t forgiven you …

Steve let out a deep breath.

He didn’t want to think about what would have happened then.

Despite his best efforts, memories of that night came back to him again. He could still remember the agony Bucky had felt in their quarters. Connors had warned about the dangers of Bond Displacement Syndrome, but until Steve had stood there nearly overcome by his own mate’s pain and watching as his Omega tried anything he could to make it go away—including clawing through his own flesh—the Alpha hadn’t fully appreciated the doctor’s words.

The whole thing had been terrible. For so long, Steve had known his best friend was hurting. But stubborn jerk that he was, Bucky’d refused any help. Every day that had passed, Steve had felt his inner Alpha growing more and more on edge.

His mate had needed him. He knew his mate had needed him. And yet he’d done nothing until that final night when the Bucky’s pain had been at its worst.

Did I do the right thing? Steve asked himself yet again.

From everything he’d read, the answer was yes. If Bucky’s bond hadn’t settled, the pain he’d felt would have only grown worse. Seizures could have followed. Brain damage might have settled in. And according to some reports, death was a distinct risk in cases that remained untreated.

But no matter how much Steve might be able to justify his actions to himself, he still couldn’t convince Bucky.

“Let’s just forget all that shit ever happened, okay?” Bucky had told him the next day after coming back from Agent Carter’s quarters. “What you did, it worked. I’ll admit that. But no matter what happens, no matter how bad it gets or how crazy I seem, I want you to promise me you’ll never pull anything like that again.”

“But Bucky,” Steve had started only to be cut off by the sting of something hard and unrelenting snapping through their bond.

“I mean it, Steve,” Bucky had pressed on. “If we’re gonna serve together—hell, if we’re even gonna be friends—I gotta know you ain’t gonna sink your teeth into my neck again. Cause if you can’t give me your word on that, I don’t see how I’m ever gonna be able to trust you.”

So what else could Steve do but make that promise?

But even though the Alpha had sworn he wouldn’t bite his friend again, nothing Bucky might say could ever make him forget that night. Because as terrible as that time had been, it had also been wonderful, too.

Steve leaned back against his chair. Even now he could still feel the weight of Bucky’s body pressed against his own. The Omega had been flailing at first, nearly out of his mind with pain, but all it took were a few words in his Voice and a single nip of his teeth to settle him down.

And oh God, that nip …

As much as Bucky might want to deny it, something had passed between them then. Steve still couldn’t fully put it into words. The bliss, the ecstasy, the need … They’d poured through Bucky’s side of the bond. His emotions had been so strong, Steve had barely been able to control himself.

Only … he had.

It’d taken every last ounce of his willpower to do it, but he’d forced himself to stay calm, relaxed. His Omega had needed an Alpha with a level head, so he told himself that’s what he’d be. It’d been hard at first—damn near impossible, really—but all it took was seeing Bucky’s panic, knowing that Steve’s own turmoil must have pushed his Omega over the edge, to bolster Steve’s own self-control.

He’d bitten his mate again, of course. At the time, he hadn’t seen any other option. He had to calm Bucky down, and nothing else seemed to work. So he’d sunk in his teeth for a second time, only this time he bit harder, he dug in deeper, and Bucky had all but melted in his grasp.

Instant bliss.

That’s what it felt like.

The scent of his mate, the taste of his blood, the feeling of his bare skin pressed against Steve’s own—every last bit of Bucky had felt so perfect right then. Steve had sat up all night just holding his Omega. He’d stroked his back. He’d planted kisses in the man’s hair. He’d whispered all the words he wished he could tell his mate when he was awake. And when the Omega finally did rouse, Steve had lulled him back to sleep with only a few words and a casual shift in his scent.

Just knowing that he could help his best friend like this—knowing that he could take care of him and protect him better than anyone else in the world ever could—was intoxicating. It sated urges in Steve he hadn’t even known he had.

And when Bucky had finally fully woken up the next morning, Steve had still felt pleased with himself. Bucky might be mad at first, but he’d understand. He had to. He and Steve had been through so much. They’d been best friends for so long. They’d each forgiven the other no telling how many times over the years, so how could Bucky not forgive him now when, thanks to the bond, he could feel Steve’s good intentions practically thrumming through their link?

Talk about being naive.

Steve cursed himself under his breath.

Whatever had happened that morning had been his own damn fault. He knew that. He knew it. He’d forced himself on Bucky. He’d only wanted to help, sure, but he’d never once asked the Omega what he’d wanted. And in the end, that’s all Bucky desired. Some control. A say in his own life. Just the chance to choose his own fate.

And Steve got that. Really, he did. Sure, he might be an Alpha, but he’d also been a runt, and a sickly one at that. He’d learned from an early age that nobody expected much from him. And as he grew older, he’d been told time after time not to expect much from himself either.

“With a heart as weak as yours, you’ll never be able to cut it in sports, so you’d better stick to drawing instead.”

“You ain’t really hoping to land an Omega of your own, are ya, Rogers? Cause with all the big, strong Alphas out there, a shrimp like you don’t got a chance.”

And of course, the classic, “You don’t belong in the Army, son, so why don’t you find another way to help out the effort instead?”

Over and over again, Steve Rogers had been told to lower his expectations. He wasn’t good enough. He’d never be good enough. So why even try?

But try he had, and just look where it’d gotten to him. Not only had he been hand-selected for Project Rebirth, he’d become the world’s first super soldier, too. He was a captain in the Army now, a leader of his own unit and the mate of what had to be the most amazing damn Omega the world had ever seen.

And all that had only been possible because he’d refused to listen to what the world kept telling him. He’d fought to live his own life on his own terms, never once bowing down to anyone else’s expectations. So how much of a hypocrite would he have to be if he refused to let Bucky do the same?

You’ll be however much of a hypocrite you have to be if it means protecting your mate, answered the more honest side of his mind. Because that’s what matters most here, Rogers. Keeping Bucky safe. It’s all that ever mattered, and it’s all that ever will. Nothing will change that.

Not even how much Bucky might hate you for it.

And that thought alone made Steve flinch.

From the other side of the room, Bucky shot him a questioning glance, but Steve waved the Omega off. As much as he valued their bond, he hated how hard it now was to conceal anything from his friend … his mate … Bucky. Not that he wanted to conceal anything from Bucky. But given where his thoughts couldn’t help but roam, and coupling that with how averse the Omega was to their relationship moving past anything other than friendship …

He wasn’t that against it the other morning, that same voice whispered in Steve’s mind. If you hadn’t stopped him …

Steve’s face heated up.

Memories of Bucky’s hands on his chest, his neck bared for the taking, and his lips brushing against Steve’s skin filled the Alpha’s mind. For years he’d fantasized about a moment just like that. Bucky wanting him. Bucky touching him and kissing him and begging him to take him.

Even before Steve had known Bucky was an Omega, he’d yearned for his friend all the same. And to have a moment that might as well have been cut out of his very own dreams play out like that in real life …

Steve closed his eyes.

It wasn’t real, he told himself. Bucky never felt that way. It was just a side effect of the bite.

Only … was that true? Did Bucky really despise having Steve as his Alpha, or was it only his own nature he wanted to reject? After all, Steve had felt the depth of his Omega’s desire. That morning it had nearly consumed him just as it had already consumed his mate.

Bucky had wanted him.

Steve knew Bucky had wanted him.

But if the Omega didn’t know it himself, what difference did it really make?

“You should have solidified the bond.” Connors had railed against him as soon as he’d heard what Steve had done … or rather, failed to do. “This early in your union, one coupling might make all the difference.”

“But if Bucky didn’t want—”

“What the sergeant wants isn’t up for debate, Captain,” the doctor had all but shouted. “It’s what he needs. And as his Alpha, it’s up to you to be strong enough to see to those needs … whether he wants you to or not.”

Steve didn’t think he’d ever wanted to punch a man more in his life. As far as the Alpha was concerned, what Connors was describing was nothing short of rape. And in no way was Steve ever going to rape his best friend.

Again, you mean, his mind chimed in, and once more Steve flinched.

Whatever he’d done on the trip back from Kreischberg he’d done, and nothing could change that. He’d made a call. He’d done what he had to do to save Bucky’s life, and it’d worked. Buck was here. He was alive. And hell, on nights like tonight, he even appeared to be thriving.

So was any of it really so wrong after all?

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, his mother’s voice reminded him.

But all it took was the memory of the role she’d played in Bucky’s life to shut that voice up in an instant.

Steve took a deep breath.

He might have found himself lost in his own thoughts for the rest of the night if at that moment a new patron hadn’t stepped into the pub. Across the bar, heads snapped up. The conversation dipped. Even bathed in scent blockers, Agent Carter’s entrance still commanded attention. But it wasn’t the female Omega that held Steve’s focus now. Something warm and stirring shot through Bucky’s side of the bond as he called out Peggy’s name, and for some reason, Steve felt himself frown.

“They sure got friendly fast,” Morita managed to slur, which only made Steve’s grimace deepen.

“Bucky could use a friend,” the Alpha made himself say. “He’s lucky to have her.”

But beside him, Morita just snorted.

“You mean he’s lucky to have you, Cap,” the Beta argued. “Way I heard it, Sarge there always had plenty of friends. But all those friends didn’t count for shit back in Kreischberg. You on the other hand … You … You … What did you do?”

“I bit him,” Steve deadpanned.

But drunk as he was, Morita was beyond taking a hint and pushed on anyway.

“Yeah. Yeah, you bit him. I’m glad you bit him. Crazy bastard like that needed you to bite him.”

Steve snorted. “I’m not so sure he’d agree with you there.”

“Yeah, well, what the fuck does he know, huh?” Morita had scoffed. “Like I said, the bastard’s crazy. Now don’t get me wrong. I like Barnes. I like him a lot. He’s a good guy, our Sarge. But he’s also dumb as shit.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “That a fact?”

“Hell yeah, that’s a fact.” Morita thumped his empty glass against the table then stared at it almost like he was insulted it wasn’t full. Several seconds passed before he shook his head and pressed on. “What was I saying? Oh. Oh, yeah. Barnes is dumb. Everybody knows he’s dumb. Because if he wasn’t dumb, he wouldn’t be here. You get what I’m saying?”

“Not really. No.”

Morita sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to … not trying … I’m not trying to insult the guy. Like I said, I like him. Not like like him. But I like him. And I trust him, too. Everybody says he’s good in the field, and he’s a hell of a lot better than me with a gun. I mean a rifle. I don’t know how he is with a gun. I don’t want to know how he is with a gun. I—”

“Private.” Steve cut off whatever else the man was about to say before he could dig himself in any deeper. “What’s your point?”

“My point?” Morita frowned. “Oh, yeah. My point. About Barnes being dumb. Yeah, he’s dumb alright. Because if he wasn’t dumb, he’d be back home right now. Hell, he’d probably be living it up, too. Male Omega like him? Shit. I can only imagine how many rich fucks woulda wanted to mate him. Bastard could have had his pick. Or his parents could have had their pick. I don’t know how that works with Omegas. Never really had to worry about it. But the point is, he coulda been living the good life. Safe at home. A belly fully of pups. Some rich ass mate spoiling him rotten. But what’s he do? Instead of owning up to what he is, he has to go off and join the fucking Army.”

“He didn’t volunteer. He was drafted,” Steve corrected.

Which seemed so weird to say since Steve had believed the opposite for so long, but still, it paid to know the truth. Or at least, Steve thought it did. The private, on the other hand, just waved him off.

“Doesn’t matter how he got here. He still got here. Not that he ain’t good enough to be here. That bastard’s probably a better soldier than me. Definitely tougher after all the shit he went through. But that’s just what I’m trying to say. He wouldn’t’ve had to go through all that shit in Kreischberg if he woulda just come clean from the start, you know?  I mean, what’s the point in hiding what you are? People are gonna figure it out sooner or later. So he’s an Omega. So what? I’m a Beta, but you don’t see me pretending like I’m some Alpha, right?”

Steve forced a nod.

“Right. So why couldn’t Barnes have done the same? I mean, I get that Omegas ain’t got it easy in life. Always used to pity them myself if I’m being honest. Hell, I might have even seen where he was coming from before. But after seeing what happened to him back there and having to clean him up day after day after day.”

The private’s breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes. Steve could feel his own pulse picking up in response, but as much as he knew he should tell the other man to slow down, to take it easy, to quit talking before he said something—or rather, anything else—he’d regret, he held his tongue.

Because as much as he could tell this was starting to turn into more of a confession than a conversation, he really did want to hear what the private had to say. Hell, if he was being honest, he was dying to hear what the man had to say. Ever since finding Bucky on that table, he’d been hungry for whatever information he could get, but the Omega had been nothing short of tight-lipped on the whole matter and so had the rest of his men.

But now …

Morita swallowed once then again. It wasn’t until after he’d taken a long, deep, trembling breath that he continued.

“That’s where I met him, you know,” the private said, his voice low and eyes distant. “In that room. Supply closet, really. It’s where they kept him while Lohmer and all those other Hydra fucks took their turns on him. They made me clean him up each day after they were done. Lohmer liked to have a clean hole, you see. And that fucking doctor wanted a ‘sanitary’ specimen.”

This time Steve had to take a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

Across the bar, Steve could feel Bucky’s concern rising in response to his Alpha’s temper, but no matter how hard he fought, the captain couldn’t fully subdue his emotions.

Anger. Guilt. Rage.

Steve could smell his own scent taking on an acrid stench as the private continued recounting his story. But no matter how much the rest of the bar might have noticed—and given the wide birth everyone was giving him, he knew the other patrons had to notice—the private was either too lost in his own confessions or too drunk on cheap booze to tell.

Which suited Steve just fine. After all, he did want answers. He’d never be able to help his mate if he didn’t know exactly what he was dealing with. And even though he’d already listened to the Omega recount his experiences during Ross’s interrogation, somehow Morita’s words seemed far more telling—and gut-wrenching—than anything his best friend had recounted aloud.

“I mean, my luck’s always been shit,” he heard the private go on. “I’m used to tough breaks. But Barnes? What they did to that guy was just shit. Total shit. And the real shit was, it didn’t even have to happen, you know? He shouldn’t even be here. There’s a reason Omegas don’t get drafted, so Barnes had to have known what he was in for. He’s not that dumb. But did he do the smart thing by coming clean? No. Hell no. The crazy bastard just packed up his stuff, went off to boot camp, then came over here and got raped over and over and over again.”

The private slammed his glass against the table in time to each ‘over’ he said, and by this point, Steve could feel Bucky’s concern hit its peak. When he looked up, the Omega had already pushed himself away from the bar.

A sudden burst of panic shot through Steve then, and he tried to signal to his mate to stay back. Bucky didn’t need to hear this. Not now. Not ever. But even though the two of them used to be able to communicate with nothing more than a glance back in Brooklyn, now that they were bonded, the Omega couldn’t catch a hint.

Or else he refused to.

Steve was just about to abandon Morita and usher his mate well out of the private’s vicinity when someone’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder. A fresh growl thrummed through Steve’s chest only to die as soon as he saw who had caught the sergeant’s attention.

Agent Carter.

Another Omega.

What reason did he have to growl at another Omega?

The woman threw him a look of her own, and he nodded in thanks as she led his best friend away. Bucky still shot him a questioning glance, but all it took was a word from the woman at his side, and his mate let himself be led towards the bar’s tiny dance floor.

Steve let out a relieved sigh.

He really would have to thank Carter for all her help. The woman had been nothing short of a godsend since this all began. But even though he knew he should be beyond grateful for all she’d done to help his mate, he still couldn’t stop something strange and possessive from flaring up inside him as he watched the way her tiny hands clung to his mate’s shoulders or the way Bucky’s own arms pulled her so closely to his chest.

It's just a dance, he told himself. It’s only a dance.

And besides that, they were both Omegas.

What Alpha in his right mind would ever be jealous of an Omega?

“Just stupid,” Morita’s voice piped up again. “It’s all so fucking stupid. Every bit of it. Just … Just stupid.”

The private flopped a hand at the whole pub—or more probably, the whole world—before slumping down into a semi-coherent heap in his chair. His words turned into little more than drunken rambling after that. Just one topic after the next. Not a one of them fitting together.

Eventually, Gabe came back. The two Alphas helped the Beta out to the jeep Jones had somehow managed to borrow, and Steve settled the smaller man inside.

“Thanks again for doing this, Gabe,” Steve said before turning his attention back to the drunken private. “And as for you, get some sleep. You need it.”

“Yes, sir, Captain America, sir,” Morita managed to slur before giving a sloppy salute. “And you … you take care of that idiot in there, will ya.”

Steve snorted. “I’ll do what I can.”

“No,” Morita shook his head. “No, you gotta do more than that. That moron, he don’t ask for nothing. He don’t want nothing. He just keeps trying to take care of everybody else. Like back in that factory. Taking licks for all those other stupid fucks. That was just stupid. He’s so fucking stupid. That’s why you gotta be smart for him, Cap. Can’t let him do shit like that no more. Can’t let it get that bad. Otherwise … otherwise he’s just gonna try to off himself again like he did with Lohmer.”

Steve froze.

“What …? What are you talking about?”

But the Beta had finally passed out.

“Jim?” Steve shook him once, twice. “What the hell do you mean ‘off himself’?”

The private didn’t stir.

Steve swallowed before finally releasing his grip on the man’s shoulders.

He must have heard wrong. Morita was drunk. The man didn’t know what he was saying, so why pay it any mind? Bucky wouldn’t try to kill himself no matter how bad anything got. He was too strong for that. He was too good. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Steve glanced over to where Jones was sitting in the driver’s seat, but the private wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Gabe …”

“Look, Cap, whatever happened in that factory, it isn’t my story to tell.”

“So you’re saying something did happen,” Steve said. “You’re saying Bucky—”

“I’m not—” Gabe bit back a curse before taking a deep breath. “Like I said, it’s not my place to judge. What happened with Barnes … You’ve gotta know he was in a bad place, Cap. Going into heat like that, knowing what had to be coming for him next.” Jones paused before taking another breath. “I can’t tell you what was going through his head at the time, but all I know is, if I was in his shoes, I’d have probably gone for Lohmer’s gun, too.”

Steve felt his insides turn to ice.

“So you think he meant to turn the gun on himself,” the Alpha found himself saying, but Gabe just shrugged.

“Doesn’t really matter what he meant to do. If you go for a guard’s gun, it’s a death sentence all the same. We all knew that.”

Steve nodded. He didn’t know how else to respond.

“Hey, look, this whole thing, it’s just …” The private closed his eyes as he shook his head. “It was messed up. He was messed up. Whatever Barnes did back there—whatever he wanted to do—it doesn’t count, okay? He didn’t have any good choices. But now?”

Jones flashed Steve a smile as he reached across the unconscious Beta to slap the captain on the arm.

“Now he’s got you, man,” Gabe said. Like that should make any difference at all. “Captain America. An honest-to-God hero, and probably the best Alpha any Omega could ever hope for. And then when you add to that the whole you two being best friends since childhood thing …”

Gabe shook his head again, but this time he chuckled.

“I tell you, if there was ever anybody I knew who deserved a stroke of good luck, it was Barnes, and he sure as hell got it. You saved his life back there, man. You saved all our lives. None of us will ever forget that, so don’t for a minute think Barnes will either. He appreciates what you did, and he doesn’t have any plans to undo it. Trust me. So just …” Gabe took another deep breath. “Just put that out of your mind right now, because all the rest of us have.”

Steve nodded again. He thanked Jones and waved him off. But try as he might, he couldn’t do as the other man said.

You heard Gabe. It was just desperation. That’s all, Steve tried to convince himself.

But no matter how true that might be, the Alpha’s memories kept dragging him back to Connors’ earlier warning.

“… fewer than ten percent survive.”

The doctor had been referencing Bond Displacement Syndrome at the time, but the majority of that condition’s mortality rate was due to one primary cause.

Suicide.

Most Omegas with Bucky’s condition died by suicide. And for his friend—his mate—to have already attempted such an end once already, how much higher at risk did that place him now?

Steve let out a shaky breath.

Heading back into the bar, the Alpha couldn’t help but seek out his mate as soon as he walked through the door. He just needed to make sure Bucky was okay. He needed to see him with his own eyes. He knew he was being stupid. He’d just seen the jerk not five minutes before. But now, after what he’d just heard, all those Alpha instincts couldn’t help but consume him.

Protect.

The urge was so strong he couldn’t think of anything else.

Steve had to protect his mate. He had to make sure nothing ever happened to him, because that was Steve’s job. An Alpha always protected his Omega. And Bucky was Steve’s Omega. He was his mate. And Steve couldn’t lose his mate. He wouldn’t lose his mate.

Not now.

Not ever.

Inside the pub, the rest of the bar’s patrons acted as if nothing had changed at all. Servicemen drank. The bartender poured. And out on the floor, Bucky and Carter continued to dance.

Steve would have cut in—propriety be damned—if a certain red-haired Alpha hadn’t grabbed him by the arm.

“Come on, Captain. You look like you could use a drink.”

Steve bristled. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I—”

“Bartender! Two beers and put them on Captain America’s tab!”

Dugan slapped Steve on the back with his free hand, but the other still hadn’t lost its tight grip on his shoulder.

Steve’s fought to contain his temper.

“Corporal—” Somehow he managed a civil tone. “—as I said before, I don’t want a drink.”

“And as I already told you, Captain, you need one.” Then before Steve could open his mouth to reply, the other Alpha leaned in close to whisper. “You’ve already upset Jimmy enough tonight, so why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and think about him for once, huh? The guy’s finally having some fun. He doesn’t deserve to have you come spoil it with that over-possessive Alpha stench you’re sporting there, sir.”

Steve blinked.

Shock managed to weaken his instincts enough for common sense to step in.

The corporal was right. Bucky did look happy. Steve watched his best friend throw back his head as he laughed at something the other Omega had just said. Then, pulling Carter even closer, he spun the pair of them around the floor while the piano player sang, a pair of young privates hooted, and Steve watched on—too stunned to look away and too ashamed to move.

How wrong did he have to be that Dum Dum Dugan had to be the one to set him straight?

“Here.” Dugan pulled him over to the bar before shoving a beer into his right hand. “Drink. At least act like you’re having a good time, otherwise Jimmy’s gonna get it in his dumbass head to come over here and look after you.”

Steve grit his teeth, but he did as the other man said. Bucky really did look like he was having a good time. Steve didn’t want to spoil it. So if being around another Omega was what his mate needed right now, he’d damn well let him have it.

Steve just wished his own company wasn’t quite so … disgruntled.

Steve took a sip of his drink. Beside him, Dugan gulped his down. The other Alpha wasn’t openly hostile, but like every other time they’d socialized, he wasn’t exactly friendly either.

Over and over again, Bucky had claimed this guy was nothing but an asset in the field—and based on some of the training they’d done, Steve begrudgingly had to agree. But the wrong attitude could turn even the strongest ally into an enemy. And Steve didn’t need anymore enemies. So if this guy wanted a fight, he figured he might as well oblige him now.

Steve put down his glass.  “You don’t like me much, do you?”

Beside him, Dugan snorted into his beer. “Now what ever gave you that impression?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Steve kept his eyes fixed on the man. “Only every interaction we’ve had since Kreischberg, I suppose.”

Dugan snorted again before taking another drink.

Enough time passed that Steve had begun to think the other man wouldn’t answer, but eventually Dugan set down his own drink and turned to face his captain.

“No offence, sir.” The way Dugan said the word, Steve couldn’t help but take offense. “But I don’t care much for Alphas how can’t keep their knots in their pants, if you get my meaning.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Not that it’s any of your business, Corporal, but if you’re referring to what happened between me and Sergeant Barnes, then I can assure I only did what I did because there wasn’t any other choice. Bucky was dying. If there had been any other way to save him, I would’ve gladly tried that first. But there wasn’t.”

“You sure about that, Cap?”

Steve could smell the challenge in the man’s scent. His hindbrain was already screaming. Rival! Fight! Challenge! But his more evolved side couldn’t help but pause to consider the other Alpha’s words.

Not that there was anything there to consider.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Steve squared his shoulders. “Bucky Barnes is my best friend. He’s the closest thing to family I’ve got. I’d do anything for that jerk. And if anybody ever tries to hurt him again, I’ll do whatever it takes to stop them. No matter the cost.”

Dugan took another drink from his glass. “At least that’s one thing we have in common.”

Silence settled between the two of them again.

Out on the floor, the two Omegas were still dancing. The song was slow now. Carter’s forehead was pressed against Bucky’s cheek. His lips grazed her temple. No one else was with them. Instead, most of the bar’s patrons had turned their attention to watch. Not that two Omegas sharing a dance was all that unheard of, but there was just something about the pair that seemed almost too intimate for words. Almost as if there was more there than just friendship. Almost as if they each wanted more than just friendship. Almost as if …

Steve shook his head.

What was he thinking? His hindbrain had to be acting up again. Either that or he was going crazy. Bucky and Carter? There was no way anything was going on between them. Well, nothing more than what Steve had asked for. He already knew about the scent marking and the co-nesting. Carter had said it would help, and from the looks of Bucky, it had.

His mate’s scent was deeper now, stronger, healthier. His side of the bond felt lighter, too. More content. But beyond even that, the man just seemed happier. He smiled more often. He even joked around like he used to before. All around, he felt more and more like the best friend Steve had known in Brooklyn instead of the ex-POW he’d been these past few weeks.

And all of that was thanks to Peggy Carter.

So how come Steve found himself starting to hate her?

Jealousy doesn’t have to make sense, he told himself. Especially when it comes to an Alpha and Omega.

But as much of a fool as he told himself he was being, he still couldn’t stop himself from standing up when the song ended. He just needed to see Bucky. He needed to talk to him—scent him—even if only for a few moments. And he would have, too, if only Dugan hadn’t grabbed him by the elbow again.

“Before you go, Rogers, I just need to know how far you’re planning to push that bond.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

But instead of answering right away, Dugan nodded back to where Bucky and Peggy were standing on the dance floor, the two of them just talking now that the piano player had chosen to take his break.

“We Alphas have a lot of power over Omegas like them,” Dum Dum said. “Some of us see a bond more like a marriage. There’s give and take. But other Alphas … They just want to take. I need to know what kind are you.”

Steve squared his shoulders. “I’d never take anything from Bucky – including his choices.”

“Funny thing about that one,” Dugan said. “You already have.”

Something deep and unsettling simmered in Steve’s chest, but he pushed it down.

“I’d say this conversation is over, Corporal.”

Dugan shrugged. “As long as you don’t give me any reason to bring it back up.”

Steve clenched his jaw. From the corner of his vision, he saw Bucky’s back stiffen as the Omega shot a questioning glance his way.

Steve ignored him and focused all his attention on Dugan instead.

“Right now I can forgive your attitude because you’ve been drinking, Corporal,” Steve said. “But what I need to know is when we hit the field, are you going to have a problem following orders?”

Dugan tipped back his bowler hat and chuckled.

“I’ve been a soldier longer than you, Cap. You don’t have to worry about me doing my job. You just gotta make sure you do right by him.” Dum Dum nodded in Bucky’s direction. “As long as you do, I can guarantee you we won’t have any problems.”

Which should have been enough to set Steve at ease, but instead, the man’s words only felt like more of a challenge.

Steve fought back a growl.

Before any more words could be said, though, Bucky and Carter had slipped in between the pair.

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky tried. “Don’t you owe me a drink?”

Meanwhile, Peggy was quick to beg off. “It’s getting late for me, gentlemen. I really do need to get back. Corporal, I don’t suppose you’d mind escorting me home?”

Steve opened his mouth, ready recommend the female Omega find a different escort instead, but Bucky cut him off with an elbow to the ribs.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Peg,” he told her. “You, too, Dum Dum.”

Then the two of them were gone, and only Steve and Bucky were left standing at the bar.

“So?’ Bucky said as soon as they were alone. “Want to tell me what the hell your problem is?”

“My problem?”

“Yeah, punk, your problem. Cause from the way you’re stinking the whole place up, you sure as hell seem to have one.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he forced himself to take another sip of his beer. He tried to tell himself he was only pausing to capture his thoughts. But instead, the minutes passed and still he had nothing to say.

Eventually, Bucky just shook his head.

“You know, the way this whole conversation thing works is I say something to you, then you say something back.”

Steve snorted. “That a fact? Glad you’re here to enlighten me.”

“Well, someone sure has to.” Bucky flashed a smile, but when that didn’t work, he let out a sigh before leaning in close instead. “Seriously, though, Steve, what’s going on? Your emotions have been all over the place tonight.”

Steve opened his mouth, ready to lie. But whether it was the bond or just all their years of friendship, he couldn’t bring himself to argue.

Instead, his mind went not to his pissing match with Dugan or even his petty jealousy of Peggy. All his thoughts turned back to his conversation with Jim and Gabe instead.

“Bucky …” Strong, he told himself. Captain America is supposed to be strong. “I just …”

I heard you tried to kill yourself. I’m scared you’ll try it again. But when he looked over at his best friend’s face, he couldn’t breach the subject.

So much for being strong.

Steve let out a deep sigh. “I guess I’m just worried about you. That’s all.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes almost like he was searching Steve for the truth. And maybe he was. Their bond certainly made it easier. But after a while, he just snorted before shaking his head.

“Swear to God, Steve, out of all the things you’ve got to be worried about right now, you sure pick the dumbest things to focus on.”

“Since when is worrying about my …” He came dangerously close to saying mate, but caught himself before he could make that mistake at least. “… best friend such a dumb thing to do?”

Amusement flared through Bucky’s end of the bond.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe since you signed up to be a government experiment, got turned into a national icon, then agreed to take out a whole army of extra-evil, mad scientist Nazis all by yourself.” Bucky ticked off each one on his fingers. “I’d say that ought to be enough to worry about right there.”

“Come on, Buck, I’m Captain America. You’re telling me you don’t think I can juggle more than one worry at once?”

“Arms like that, I ain’t so sure you couldn’t juggle cars if you wanted to, pal. Still doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“Oh, and you know something about good ideas, do you?”

“I know a hell of a lot more about ‘em than you do, punk.”

Steve smiled as the gauntlet was thrown. “Is that a fact? So you’re telling me that time when we were twelve and you got that box of fireworks and you thought we oughta tie all those rockets together ‘cause it’d be so much better if we could light them all at once, that was a good idea?”

“Hey, you’ve got to admit, that was one hell of a blast.”

“I was deaf for three days!”

“Like that counts for anything. Your ears were always shit, Rogers. Besides, that wasn’t nearly as bad as that time you …”

And so went the rest of their night, each one ribbing the other for every bad decision they’d ever made. And after nearly two decades of friendship, they’d both made a lot of bad decisions.

But even though Steve thought he could safely pinpoint the two worst his best friend had ever committed, he didn’t mention Bucky’s suppressants or Lohmer’s gun. He couldn’t. Not when everything was so easy between them. Because for the first time since finding Bucky on that table, he finally felt like he had his friend back. And that’s all he’d ever wanted, wasn’t it? Just to have Bucky back – safe, healthy, and preferably happy, too. That was enough. He kept telling himself it had to be enough. Only … it wasn’t.

Steve’s mind went back to Peggy. He remembered the way Bucky had held her, how close the two Omegas had been. It might have been platonic, but still, Steve wanted that same closeness with his mate. He wanted to touch him and scent him and hold him just like he had that night in their quarters. But if Bucky didn’t want it, too ….

He does, his inner Alpha whispered. You know he does.

Steve could only hope his instincts were right just like he could only pray his worries were wrong.

You heard Gabe. It was a one-time thing. Bucky’s not gonna try to kill himself.

But as much as he kept trying to tell himself that was true, Connors’ words kept repeating in the back of his mind.

“… fewer than ten percent survive.”

Even as a 90-pound asthmatic with a bum ticker, Steve had had better odds than that. How could Bucky’s chances be so low? And even more importantly, what could Steve do to raise them?

That question alone followed him all the way back to their quarters that night.

Steve was so lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t notice Bucky’s casual goodbye as soon as they reached the barracks.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

Bucky threw him a confused look. “Over to the Omega wing, where else?” He frowned when Steve couldn’t keep his own disappointment from clouding his scent. “Why? What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” Steve tried to brush it off. “You’ve just been spending every night at Carter’s for almost a week now. Kind of missed having you around.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you were okay with me staying there.”

“I am. I am.” Steve was quick to reply. “If sleeping over there helps, I’m all for it. I guess I just didn’t realize you’d be over there every night, that’s all.”

Steve tried to shrug off what he’d just said. Play it casual. Fake a laugh, even. But it was no use. He could feel through the bond his Omega wasn’t buying it.

Bucky stared at him for nearly half a minute before clenching his jaw. He took a deep breath. The Omega mumbled something about stubborn Alphas only once before shaking his head and shouldering his way past Steve through the door.

“Come on.”

Steve held his ground at the threshold. “Bucky, you don’t have to—”

“Just get your ass inside, punk.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he obeyed.

Across the room, Bucky was already unlacing his boots. He started unbuttoning his uniform, and Steve forced himself to look away.

“Don’t make this weird, Steve.”

“I’m not trying to—”

“We’ve lived together for years. You’ve seen me undress a hundred times before, so don’t go pulling the whole chivalry act on me now. I ain’t some dame. You don’t gotta avert your eyes.”

Steve’s cheeks burned, but he kept his eyes focused on the floor anyway. “I was just trying to be polite, you jerk.”

“Yeah, well, it’s weird. So stop making all this uncomfortable, and just act like yourself, okay? Pretty soon we’re gonna be up each others asses in the field anyway, so you’d better get over this whole bashful act now. Captain America or not, I’ll still bust your chops if you don’t. Go it?”

Steve actually laughed at that. “Yes, sir.”

Everything was easier then.

Steve took off his clothes, too. He undressed all the way down to his undershirt and boxers. He was just about to climb into bed when a hand grabbed him by the arm.

“Not there.”

Steve glanced back at his best friend.

“Buck, what are you—”

“Just shut up.” Bucky tugged him towards his nest. “And don’t make this weird.”

Steve didn’t know what else to say, so he kept quiet.

The Alpha could feel his pulse racing as his Omega pulled him down into the piles of bedding. The Bucky’s scent saturated the nest. It filled Steve’s nostrils. With each breath, all he could smell was his Omega and that alone was more comforting than Steve could even begin to explain.

“Better, right?” his mate asked, and Steve just nodded dumbly. “Peggy warned me this might happen. I kept telling myself that serum of yours must be staving it off, but obviously that’s not the case.”

Steve frowned. “Staving what off?”

“Your own nature, I guess.” Bucky chuckled. “I always knew you Alphas got attached to your mates, but I never realized it was practically an addiction. Peggy’s the one who clued me in on it. Said you might start getting twitchy on me if I stayed away too long. Didn’t believe her at first, but from the way you were acting tonight, I’d say she was right.”

“Oh, come on. I wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Bucky laughed outright as he laid down beside the Alpha. “Steve, do you have any idea how bad you stank up that bar? I was practically choking on the pheromones. And don’t even get me started on the bond. Your emotions were so all-over-the-place I can’t tell you how close I came to taking a header while I was out there dancing with Pegs.”

“Pegs?” Steve blinked. “Since when did you start calling her Pegs?”

Something quick and fluttering flashed through Bucky’s side of the bond, but Steve couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Next to him, the Omega just shrugged.

“Gotta call her something, punk. And when you’re sharing a nest together, ‘Agent Carter’ just don’t feel right.”

Steve grimaced. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t.”

The Alpha tried his best to squelch down whatever emotions that casual remark had made him feel, but whether it was his scent or the bond that gave him away, Bucky frowned back at him all the same.

“You don’t like it when I talk about Peggy, do you?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve got no problem with Agent Carter, Buck. I’m glad she’s here to help you. I asked her to help you.”

“I know you did,” Bucky replied slowly. “I’m just wondering if you’re starting to regret it now.”

Steve forced a laugh. “What would I have to regret?”

“I don’t know, punk. You tell me.”

Steve opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Between them, the bond thrummed with emotions on both sides, but they were too jumbled up to read.

Silence passed.

Eventually, Bucky sighed. “Look, Stevie …”

“No, Buck,” the Alpha interrupted. “You don’t gotta say anything, okay? I know I’m being stupid here. You and Carter are friends. I’m so glad you’re friends. You’ve been doing so much better ever since you started spending more time with her, and I don’t want that to change. Honest. I just … I miss you. And I worry, too. I can’t stop worrying. It just gets worse when you’re not around. But I don’t want to force myself on you. I don’t ever want to force you into anything ever again. I just want you to be okay. But then I start thinking about everything you’ve had to go through, not to mention the Bond Displacement Syndrome and what Jim and Gabe told me tonight, and it’s just—”

“Wait. What did Jim and Gabe tell you?”

 Steve froze.

He hadn’t meant to let that slip. He hadn’t meant to let any of it slip. But for some reason, once he started talking, he just couldn’t stop. He didn’t know why. All he knew was that lying here, warm and comfortable, with his Omega right beside him and his mate’s scent filling the air, he couldn’t help but let his guard down.

And of course, Bucky—being the jerk that he was—couldn’t help but capitalize on it.

Steve tried to brush the matter off, but Bucky wouldn’t let him. The Omega just kept pushing and pushing, badgering the Alpha any way he could, until finally Steve gave in and told his friend everything he’d heard that night.

When he was done, Bucky was quiet for a long time. Steve watched as his friend rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

Minutes passed.

“I’m not gonna kill myself, Steve,” came the Omega’s eventual reply. “What happened with Lohmer … I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t thinking straight. But I am now. And I’m not gonna kill myself. So you don’t gotta worry about that, okay?”

“Okay.”

More time passed. Steve could feel more emotions swirling through Bucky’s side of the bond. Shame. Anger. Sadness. Even regret. They poured through the link between them until Steve could barely tell one from the other.

Fix this, his inner Alpha growled. Make it better.

Only Steve didn’t know how.

He never had been good at knowing what to say. Not in times like these. So instead of offering comfort, he opted for distraction instead.

“Guess I made this weird, huh?” The Alpha finally broke the silence.

Bucky managed a smile. “Trust a knothead like you to state the obvious.”

“Trust a jerk like you to point it out.”

Bucky elbowed him in the ribs, and Steve elbowed him right back. More insults followed. Then came the banter. When the silence between them finally returned, it was no longer tense this time. Just companionable. Right.

Somehow things between him and Bucky always ended up feeling right.

And that alone gave Steve at least some hope that their future might end up the same.

“I really am okay, Stevie,” Bucky said long after the lights had gone out.

“I know.”

“So quit worrying about me.”

“Wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Why? Because I’m your Omega?”

“No, jerk, because you’re my friend.”

And that made something so warm and deep flare through Bucky’s side of the bond that it left Steve overwhelmed with it, too.

“Sentimental knothead,” the Omega muttered thickly.

Then after a moment of hesitation, Bucky grabbed the Alpha’s wrist and pulled him in close.

Steve’s heart thundered.

“This isn’t an invitation,” Bucky clarified as he repositioned the two of them until they were both lying on their sides with the Omega’s back to the Alpha’s chest. “We’re still just friends here. Only friends. So don’t get any ideas.”

“Of course not,” Steve managed.

“I mean it, punk,” Bucky told him over his shoulder. “You’d better not bite me. And the second I feel a dick digging into my back, you’ll be walking out of here with bruised balls. Got it?”

Steve chuckled. “Might be safer if we slept apart after all.”

“What? And let those knothead instincts of yours keep going unchecked? No thank you. The way I see it, if I don’t put a stop to this now, there’s no telling what you’ll end up doing. Probably make me go stomping around Europe in full armor. Won’t let me find a sniper perch more than two feet off the ground. And don’t get me started on the inevitable ass you’ll be to every other Alpha you meet.”

Steve let out a snort. “Seriously, I am not that bad.”

“Not yet, you aren’t. And I intend to keep it that way. So just shut up and get some sleep, punk. Peg claims a little cross-scenting works wonders, so breathe it in while you can, ‘cause this is not gonna be a nightly thing. My dignity can’t take it.”

Steve smiled. “Funny, I didn’t think you had any dignity left after that time you and Dolores—”

“Shut up, Stevie, or I really will kick you in the nuts.”

Steve laughed long and hard.

With one arm slung over his mate’s shoulder and his nose pressed against the back of Bucky’s neck, Steve fell asleep quickly after that. By the time he awoke the next morning, he felt more rested than he could ever remember.

For once, everything was okay. Bucky was okay. His Omega was with him. His mate’s scent surrounded him. Their bond thrummed between them, and all of his Alpha urges were sated.

This is life as it should be, his instincts told him. Everything is just as it should be.

Then someone knocked on the door. The two of them got up. And less than three hours later, everything changed again.

Chapter Text

December 1943

Peggy Carter had a habit of getting what she wanted.

Not because it was her due. And certainly not because she thought she was owed it. But simply because she never gave up until her desires became her reality.

Some might claim such an attitude was selfish, at times obsessive, and possibly even borderline delusional. But she liked to think it was practical. As long as she operated as if nothing but her own goals—and those given to her by her superiors—mattered, she never had to worry about performing at anything below her absolute best. This attitude had been fostered during her training. And as she stood here now, watching Captain Rogers’ men file into the room, she liked to think she’d cultivated it to perfection. Otherwise she doubted she’d have the resolve to remain quiet when all she wanted to do was pull James away and demand to know what kept him away from her last night.

As if you don’t already know, her own thoughts taunted.

And unbidden, her eyes trailed to the captain sitting dead-center amidst his men.

She’d never liked Alphas, but she truly was growing to hate this one more than any other.

That’s only because of the bond, she told herself. He’s still a good man. Erskine wouldn’t have chosen him if he wasn’t a good man.

But good man or not, he was still her rival. As long as he held any claim at all over James, she couldn’t see him as anything but. And that made work difficult, because if she let her emotions cloud her performance, if she gave any indication of the connection she and James now shared ….

That won’t happen. She put a stop to those worries right then and there. You’ve been trained too well to let that happen.

So instead of getting lost in her own feelings, she turned all of her attention to the present.

“Gentlemen,” Colonel Phillips swept into the room. “I hope you got plenty of rest last night, because you’re about to need it.”

He then summarized their latest intelligence findings on Hydra. A Hydra stronghold had been found in northern Italy near Novara. According to their contacts, the base was serving as both a store-house for more of the organization’s Tesseract weaponry—as Schmidt had been reported to refer to it—as well as a base of operations for the group’s latest research.

“According to our people, they’re working on something big—maybe even bigger than what you saw in Kreischberg—so time is a factor here, boys. We want you in and out. Collect whatever information you can find, then destroy the rest. We can’t afford to let any more of these weapons hit the field. Got it?”

Everyone nodded.

More details were added after that. Peggy played her part in clarifying any questions that followed. Stark came in to discuss weaponry. Everything proceeded smoothly until it came time to announce how much time the team had before their departure.

“Ten hours?” The captain looked comically shocked.

“You have a problem with that, Rogers?” Phillips raised an eyebrow.

“No, sir, I just wasn’t expecting such a quick deployment.”

“Well, get used to it,” the Colonel told him. “This is war. Time’s a luxury we can’t always afford.”

Rogers nodded. “I understand that, sir. But Bucky—I mean, Sergeant Barnes—still hasn’t been approved for combat.”

“Then consider him approved now.” The colonel’s eyes flickered over to James. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve more than proved yourself in the field, son. If the bureaucrats want to dick around debating the obvious, they can do it on their own time. But this team is moving out at 2100, and I ain’t about to send it off without its top sharpshooter. Am I understood?” Phillips’ eyes scanned the room, but no one raised an objection. “Good. Then you’re dismissed.”

The men filed out.

Peggy fell in behind James and Rogers, but she held her distance for now. The two of them just looked so at ease—so right—that she didn’t dare make her approach. Not when her own emotions were so disorderly. So she slowed down. She waited and she watched as the two men paused near the door. And she listened in to all that followed.

“So … you good, Buck.”

James snorted. “Course I am, punk. Why wouldn’t I be?”

A long look from Rogers followed.

Peggy tried to dismiss the captain’s worries as nothing but typical Alpha overprotectiveness, but then she felt it. The tension. James hid it well—so well that she hadn’t noticed it until now, not even with their bond—but now that Peggy focused, she could feel the faintest discords of her lover’s fear, too.

And why wouldn’t he be afraid? she thought to herself. He barely survived his last trip to Italy. And now to be asked to go there again so soon ....

“The offer still stands, you know.” Rogers’ quiet voice cut through her thoughts. “If you wanna go home—”

“I can do this, Steve.”

“I know you can, Buck. But the thing is, you don’t have to.”

Fond exasperation shot through James’ side of their bond. “So what? You’re stealing my lines now?”

Rogers chuckled before bumping shoulders with the sergeant. “I could give you the whole speech if you want. Lay it on all thick. End of the line and all.”

And even though Peggy had no idea what the Alpha was referring to—some shared moment from their past, she supposed—his words were enough to draw a true smile from James.

“You are such a punk, Rogers.”

“And you’re a jerk.”

For some reason, Peggy expected more to follow. She couldn’t explain why. The words they’d each spoken were nothing more than insults, but there was just something that passed between the pair now, some fleeting emotion that pulsed through James’ end of their bond, that made their conversation feel less like teasing and more like a proclamation of love instead.

Peggy couldn’t stand it.

She was about to place herself between the pair—her own rogue emotions be damned—when Stark interrupted them instead.

“Come on, Rogers. Looks like I finished up that toy you’ve been wanting just in time.”

Then the Beta was leading the Alpha away, and no one was left but James and herself.

Peggy strode over to the man.

“Sergeant, you look well this morning.”

He flashed her a smile. “I’d say the same for you, Agent, but that’d just be stating the obvious.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, but she still couldn’t hold back a smile of her own.

“Hey, Jimmy!” From the other end of the hall, Corporal Dugan stood waiting with the rest of James’ unit by the door. “You coming or not?”

Before the Omega could answer, though, Peggy cut in for him.

“I’m afraid I still have some last minute matters I need to discuss with the sergeant. You’d best go ahead. I’ll send him after.”

Something odd—and dare she say, concerning—flashed across the corporal’s face, but Dugan gave a nod and a salute anyway. He told “Jimmy” where he could find them afterwards, then the group departed while she and James made the short trip to her office.

Once inside, she closed the door and dropped the blinds. James was already kissing her as soon as they’d fallen.

“Miss me last night?” he asked when they eventually pulled apart, and she smirked up at him as she straightened his collar.

“Unlike most Alphas, I can make do with a night alone.”

“That a fact?”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “You’ll find I’m very resourceful.”

“Now that I believe.”

James fumbled to lock the door before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to her desk. His lips were already on hers before he set her down. Her arms had moved of their own accord to wrap themselves around his neck. A need she’d not once felt before their bonding made itself known, and she readily tilted up her hips as he pulled off her panties. The jangle of a belt followed, then the rustle of cloth, and after that, he was pressing inside her.

Peggy needed all of him inside her.

Without thought, she wrapped her legs around his waist. She held on tight as he fucked her into her desktop, and by some miracle, she didn’t whisper even a moan.

Quiet, the last shred of her logic kept telling her. You have to be quiet.

But it was so hard when all she wanted to do was gasp and moan and beg for more, more, more.

Eventually, James’ thrusts stuttered. His seed spilled inside her. And his orgasm was the tipping point that pushed her into one of the very best of her own.

She was so lost in the pleasure of that moment, she didn’t even notice she was moving until James was already planted in her desk chair with her nestled in his lap, his cock still firmly wedged inside her.

Peggy wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hands rubbed down her back before drifting lower, over and under her skirt, to cup her cheeks. His fingers kneaded her ass, and she purred.

“God, I needed that,” James whispered into her hair, and she leaned forward, unable to stop herself from pressing a smile against his throat.

“Me, too.”

They remained like that for several minutes. Him holding her and her lounging against him. Each of them pressing their noses as close to the other’s skin as they could. Both desperate for that hypnotic whiff of the other’s scent.

Was she really growing so desperate?

Not for the first time, fear clouded Peggy’s thoughts.

Ever since establishing their bond, things had been moving fast. Too fast. Peggy had read all the reports on secondary bonds between Omegas, but nothing had prepared her for the depths of what she now felt for James.

She wanted the man.

But even more than that, she needed him.

True, she had liked James before. Daresay, she’d even been infatuated with him. But those feelings were nothing compared to the raw, all-consuming need that filled her now.

Was this what Alphas felt when they claimed a mate?

The thought made her shiver.

Beneath her, James tightened his hold. Concern and caring and a countless number of other oh-so-heartwarming emotions flooded over from his side of the bond, and Peggy couldn’t help but sigh with satisfaction.

Before biting James, she’d thought their bond would be one-sided. She’d been so concerned he might fall completely under her thrall, but here she was, falling equally as much under his.

And oh God, how happy was she to fall …

All of James’ feelings, his emotions, his ecstasy, they filled her up just as much as her own. For once, Peggy didn’t feel alone. She just felt complete. She’d heard other mated Omegas describe the same thing. She’d chalked it up to nothing but blind delusion when she was younger, but now that she’d experienced it herself, she could understand the appeal.

Being with James—feeling him, scenting him, possessing him—it was almost an addiction.

And she didn’t want to give it up.

Careful, Peggy, a voice whispered from the depths of your mind. Remember your objective. You started this for a reason. You have to see it through.

And she could.

She would.

Just as soon as she could convince her body to move.

Heaven help me.

Outside her office, footsteps thudded across the floor. A clock ticked. Time passed, and as much as Peggy wished she could stay where she was—warm and happy and utterly content in her lover’s arms—she knew she couldn’t tempt fate any longer.

“Not that this doesn’t feel perfect, James—” She forced herself to sit up. “—but we don’t have much time. People may grow suspicious if we’re away too long.”

James sighed. “Yeah, we can’t have that. Can we?”

“No,” she forced herself to say. “We can’t.”

His hands kept her grounded as she pulled away from him. When they fully separated, the loss of having him inside her was so jarring she staggered.

Control, Peggy, she told herself. You have to remain in control.

And through some miracle, she did.

Silently, they each straightened out their uniforms. Peggy retrieved her panties from the floor and slipped them back on. She tidied her desk.

Behind her, James’ feet scuffed the floor.

“If I’d have known we were heading out today, I’d have never spent last night with Steve,” he told her.

“You did the right thing, James.” She hated the taste of the words even as she said them, but still, the truth couldn’t be denied. “Your mate needed you.”

“Steve’s not my mate. He’s just a friend.”

“A friend that claimed you.”

James grimaced.

Peggy touched his cheek. She pressed her lips into his jaw. She let her teeth graze his neck, right atop the scar where Rogers—and later she—had marked him, and he stilled in her arms.

“You can’t ignore the truth, James.” She lapped at his bondmark. “Steve Rogers might have claimed you, but then, so did I.”

And without thinking, she bit down on his skin. Seconds later, her whole world turned to white.

Ecstasy followed.

Peggy Carter still hated Alphas. She’d always hate Alphas. But since forging this bond, she could now say she understood what drove their obsession with their mates.

If a secondary bond between two Omegas could bring this much joy, have this much power, then what must it feel like for an Alpha? The bonds they forged were so much stronger, so much deeper. Peggy knew how impossible it was for most Omegas to resist falling into their mate’s thrall, but for the first time, she could finally understand just how tempting it must be for the Alpha, too.

The power was nothing short of addictive.

Standing there, Peggy looked up at her lover. His eyes were dilated. His body was relaxed. He stared back at her mute and waiting—his mind nothing but a blank slate she could rewrite as she liked. And she’d be a liar if she said that wasn’t tempting.

This bond—as weak and inferior to his link with Rogers as it may be—was still strong enough for her to control him. All it took was that single phantom of a bite—not even enough pressure to break the skin—and for the next few minutes, his mind would open up. His subconscious would let her in. And the bond would give her all the power she needed to bend his will completely.

So that’s exactly what she did.

“I’m not an Alpha, James,” she said as much to herself as to him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m only trying to help you. Never forget that.”

Then she got to work.

The foundation always came first. She drilled into him just how strong he was, how brave and independent. He could resist any Alpha—even his own mate—if he so chose. And that is always what he would choose. She ordered him to ignore their scents, to never succumb to the power of their Voice.

“You will resist, James,” she told him. “You will always resist falling under an Alpha’s control. That’s an order.”

One which you can only pray he’ll be able to follow, she thought to herself. But now wasn’t the time for doubt. This was uncharted territory. She’d never heard of any secondary bond being utilized in such a way, but if there was even the smallest flicker of hope that this would work, she had to try. James was counting on her to equip him as best she could for the war to come, so if that meant sending him out with experimental armaments, so be it. An untested weapon was better than none at all.

Or so she hoped.

Afterwards came more concrete concepts. She reminded him of what he was, of how badly their kind had been treated and how sorely they needed him now.

“You will be an example to the world of what Omegas everywhere are capable of,” she stressed, “so you must always do your best. Push past your limits.  Show society that we are not the meek weaklings they think we are. Prove to everyone that Omegas are strong, capable, and worthy of their respect. This is your responsibility—your mission—and you will see it through. Always.”

She kissed him again—lightly this time—and he leaned into her touch. His eyes were still distant, his breaths still deep and slow, but she knew that would change soon. Their window was closing. He’d wake up. So she snuck in as many platitudes as she could while his mind was still so receptive.

“And never forget,” she finished, “when it comes to Steve Rogers, you don’t belong to him.”

You belong to me, she wanted to say.

But instead, she swallowed back her own desires. Taking his face in her hands, share stared up at him with all the conviction she could muster and forced herself to tell him the truth she knew he needed to hear.

“You belong to yourself, James Buchanan Barnes. Only yourself. Your will has, and will always be, your own. No Alpha—not even your mate—can take this truth from you. So remember it. Always.”

“Always,” he murmured back.

And she kissed him one last time, deeper, longer, until his body finally came back to life and the arms that had been nothing but limp at his sides moved up to hold her again.

They stayed like that for several more minutes—not long, but as long as they dared. And when they did finally pull away, they both sighed.

“I’m gonna miss you, Pegs,” James said.

“I’m going to miss you, too.”

Nothing was said about what had just happened. James never asked about the thoughts she’d put in his head. He just accepted them without question.

“I trust you,” he’d told her the first night she mentioned the power she held over him. “If you think you can help me, then do it.”

So she had. Nightly now. Over and over again, she’d wormed her way into his mind. She’d inserted the same truths each time, and not once had he so much as asked her what they were. He’d just trusted her judgment, and she’d accepted that. She’d told herself her actions were only meant to help him—to help their people—but each time she couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was really meant to help herself.

Just how selfish was she?

“Hey—” He ran a thumb over her cheek. “None of that.”

“None of what?”

He gave her a level look.

“You know what I’m talking about, Pegs.” He kissed her nose. “Don’t overthink this. And don’t blame yourself, either. You’re doing the right thing. We both are.”

 But all Peggy could do was smile up at him as she shook her head.

“Is that what you really think? Or is it what this—” She touched the mark on his neck. “—is telling you?”

“Doesn’t matter either way,” he said. “I’m still right.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. Really.”

He threw her a cocky grin, and the look was so disarming, she couldn’t help but smile even as she shook her head.

“See, now that’s better,” he told her. “No more moping around. We’re bonded now, so anything you feel, I feel. And selfishly, I just don’t want to feel like shit right before I’m shipped out.”

“I should have known your selfishness would be a problem,” she teased back. “You do have such a history of putting yourself first.”

James puffed out his chest in mock offense.

“Hey, I can be selfish if I want. I’ve got a pretty good history of it, too. If you don’t believe me, just ask Steve.”

The grin left his face a moment after he’d said his mate’s name, and it was all Peggy could do to keep her own emotions in check.

“Pegs, I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine,” she cut him off. “It’s not like I don’t hear the man’s name every day.”

“I know. But still, it’s a jerk thing for me to bring up. Especially when he’s … you know. And we’re …”

She waited for him to finish, but he didn’t seem to know what they were any more than she did.

Friends? Lovers? Co-conspirators?

Mates, a tiny voice whispered from the back of her mind, but that could never be true. Omegas could never mate with one another. Their kind were only meant to bear young, not to impregnate. That’s why society demanded they have an Alpha. So they could have children. So they could breed a whole new generation of strong, stubborn, chauvinistic Alphas that would ensure the same oppressive cycle repeated itself over and over again.

The very idea made Peggy grit her teeth.

I’d rather die than bring even one more of those bastards into this world.

But even as the thought touched her mind, another deeper, more primal need tugged at her soul.

But if you don’t, how will you ever become a mother?

And that alone drove all the air out of Peggy’s lungs.

I don’t want children. I never wanted children.

Which was true—or at least, it had been. But now, looking up at James, she couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to share a child with this man. Would the baby have his eyes or hers? Be a strong-willed boy or a stubborn girl? Because between the two of them, there was no way any child they had wouldn’t be stubborn. Or smart. Or—if they took after their father—hopelessly caring.

“Pegs?” James cut through her daydreams, and she shook the thoughts away.

There was no sense in wasting time on impossible fantasies—or, as she thought more likely, hormone-induced delusions brought about by their bond—so she pushed the idea aside. She slipped over to her desk and pulled out a wax-paper envelope instead.

“Take this.” She gave the item to James. “There’s a flannel inside. It’s not the most romantic of gifts, but it should hold my scent longer than a handkerchief. Keep it hidden, but scent it daily. That should reinforce the bond between us.”

“As if it needs reinforcing.”

“It will, James,” she warned him. “It’s only been a week since I bit you. The effects are always strong at first, but they will wane. Add to that the distance between us as well as your proximity to Rogers …”

“Hey.” James cupped her chin in his hand. “How many times do I have to tell you, there’s nothing between me and Steve?”

“And how many times do I have to remind you that he is your mate? Just because you say nothing will happen doesn’t mean that it won’t. His intentions might change … and so might yours.”

James straightened his shoulders. “I know what I want, Pegs, and that’s you.”

She forced a smile, but her mind kept turning back to her own errant thoughts, to the child and the future they could never share.

You don’t want that, she reminded herself. It’s just the bond playing havoc with your own Omega instincts, so why worry? You know you never wanted to have kids.

But what if James did?

For some reason, that thought made her insides churn.

She made herself say her goodbyes after that. James needed to get ready—and if possible, get some rest—before his departure, so she gave him one last kiss. She reminded him to pack plenty of scent blockers in his pack. Then she retrieved the one item she’d been saving until the end to give him.

“Are these …”

“Suppressants,” she told him as he stared down at the bottle. “These are only for if your heat starts while you’re still in the field, mind you. Two tablets twice daily should be enough to stall it. Once the symptoms have abated, just one tablet a day until you’re back on friendly soil. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Just don’t abuse them. Phillips had to bend over backwards to get Connors to agree to this. And even then, you’ll have to present the bottle for an accounting each time upon your return. If you’re even one pill short without just cause, Connors has threatened to bring you up for court martial.”

“Good to know the guy cares so much.”

“He might not, but I do,” she found herself saying. “Take care of yourself, James Barnes. I’d hate to have to find another dance partner if you went missing, so make sure you come back to me in one piece.”

“Always,” he promised. “Just make sure you do the same.”

“Always,” she parroted.

And then he left.

Peggy took the next few moments to collect herself. The rest of her day proceeded as usual. She completed her duties. She studied intelligence reports. And when the time came to see off Rogers’ team, she accompanied Stark to the airstrip. She stood at the Beta’s side as the millionaire shouted up, “Give ‘em hell, boys!” and the lot boarding the plane whooped back a loud “Wahoo!” in return.

Peggy hoped anyone who was watching thought her smile was only due to their antics, but if her gaze lingered on James the entire time, no one seemed to notice. The sergeant kept to the rear of his unit. He paused in the doorway long enough to give her a brief smile, a sloppy salute, and then he too was gone. The plane took off down the runway then slowly disappeared over the horizon.

“Well, Agent, what do you say to a late supper on the town?” Stark offered. “My treat.”

But Peggy begged off instead. Already, her stomach was churning, her heart racing. She could feel the pain of something sharp and stabbing burning through her chest, and she would swear it got worse with each mile that separated her and James.

It must be a side-effect of the bond, she told herself.

After all, she’d never been prone to gross sentimentality. And even if she hadn’t heard of a secondary bonds resulting in such withdrawal, that didn’t mean her own feelings were to blame. James had to go to war. It was always part of the plan. It’s what they both wanted. And she always got what she wanted.

But for the first time ever, Peggy found herself wishing she hadn’t.