Cruel Summer

Chapter 25

A/N: Okay....this chapter comes with SO many warnings. Graphic depictions of violence, gore, mentions of childbirth, Meg going all Rick Grimes on a bunch of assassins (iykyk), and more. So reader discretion is HEAVILY advised, thank you. But please please please, let me know your thoughts! I wanna hear them all! Especially thoughts on what you think Bucky's reaction to all of THAT is gonna be when they finally reunite lol! Thank you!

Chapter Text

June 6th, 1944

Truth be told, if you had asked Meg where she would be on June 6th of 1944 even six months prior, she couldn't have told you. She wouldn't have said a church and she wouldn't have said that she'd be praying for the men landing on the beaches and flying to be alright and protected. She wouldn't have said that she was praying that nothing would happen to the men in the Stalags—especially her Bucky.

But here she was, eight months pregnant and sitting in a pew in a church. It was practically packed—and not just here. All across the Allied Countries, people were packing into churches and places of worship, doing their best to pray for their loved ones that were surely part of the invasion.

Everything that Meg had been working for with her spies for the last several months had been leading up to this singular event. Everything hinged on it. If they could get a foothold in these countries, they could press onward to Germany. They might actually have a chance at winning this war.

And so even for Meg, who often found herself at an impasse with God, she was sitting here and praying.

She used to dream about such events, back when she was young and naive and hopeful that the United States would enter the war of its own accord. It was probably blasphemous, but the day that Pearl Harbor caused the United States to enter the war, Meg did thank God for that—because they could not do it on their own. And she couldn't do it on her own.

That was the unfortunate bit about being a spy though, she supposed. That when you were in the military, you had brothers in arms, comrades and people who would stand by you and fight with you and die for you.

As a spy, she did not have that. She often only had herself and the very willpower to survive that kept her alive. It wasn't much, but it would do.

Sandra had returned the previous week from her undercover work in France—but it was only a temporary reprieve. She would soon be sent back into France if the Allies could get a foothold there. And once she was there, she would not be coming back for a long time . It just seemed prudent to protect their spies by removing them from the equation and dangers of possibly being killed by their own countrymen.

Painstakingly getting up from the pew, Meg crossed out of the Church and took a look outside. Cloudy— another thing to pray about. That this weather would change for the men . She knew that after this whole invasion was over, that she would go back to praying on occasion, and only usually out of desperation. She didn't feel much guilt over that though.

Walking through the streets of London, Meg was acutely aware of the follower that she had somehow gained. They had followed her from her breakfast at a cafe to the Church, and now they were following her again. It was a man—and if Meg had been anyone else, she would've been nervous.

But surely he was a German agent or some sort of double agent sent to find information on her spies or on the invasion—and admittedly, Meg wasn't all that worried about the situation at hand. She could handle this. All in a day's work.

She'd lure him back to the apartment and take him out there, yes—that seemed to be the wisest course of action for the woman. Before she could so much as take another step forward, a painful sensation washed over her body, starting at the small of her back. And as she felt liquid drip down her leg, she knew . Oh she was so screwed now.