Stephanie stumbled sharply, for at least the fourth or fifth time in the last few seconds, and stopped with a frustrated exhale. She'd hoped the area around the makeshift barracks would be easier to navigate now that the ground was dry but she hadn't taken into account the countless boots that had walked through it when it was mud. The result was dirt shoved into mounds and divots leaving it almost more uneven and difficult to walk through than when it had been wet.
It didn't help that she hadn't worn her stupid Lady Liberty boots for long enough to have nearly forgotten how to walk in them. The last thing she wanted was to have a broken ankle set her back just when she'd started to get where she'd always wanted to go.
She chewed on her lower lip absently, looking around at the tents and men wandering through them. At the edge of her vision she suddenly caught sight of one of the men from Bucky's tent, the older one who'd spoken to her initially, and she quickly called out to him. He paused mid-step, turned and came toward her.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Stephanie said. She held up the bundle of clothing she was clutching in her arms. "I said I'd bring his uniform back but I seem to be in danger of snapping an ankle on my way. Would it be too much trouble to ask for an escort?"
"Of course not," he said, offering her an arm. Stephanie grinned in relief and moved the bundle of clothing to one arm as she wrapped her other around his bicep. "I was nearly ready to take off these dratted shoes and just go barefoot." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "I just realized I never asked your name before. I'm sorry."
"You weren't exactly having the best of days," he replied as they started walking. "And the name is Jefferson, ma'am. Jefferson Michaels."
Stephanie nodded and relaxed as he led her through the barracks, managing to find the flattest routes through sheer experience of having walked them repeatedly. It wasn't long before she spotted Bucky's tent, the flaps pinned back to allow the early morning sun and cool air to drift inside. Jefferson stopped a few feet away and tipped an imaginary hat to her. "Here we are. I believe he's inside, or at least he was the last I saw him."
"Thank you," Stephanie said.
"I think it would be more appropriate to thank you, ma'am," he said in reply. "I've lost a lot of friends over here and it's thanks to you I haven't lost more."
Stephanie felt herself flush with embarrassment. She was continuing to get a lot of gratitude on an almost daily basis. She kept insisting it wasn't just her, that they'd have never made it back without a joint effort but the response was that effort wouldn't have been possible if she hadn't been there to initiate it.
Now she simply nodded in a quiet response and stood as Jefferson continued on his way. After he was gone she turned and walked to the entrance of the tent. It was empty except for Bucky who she spotted immediately seated on the edge of his small cot. He had the sheaf of paper from his footlocker balanced on one leg and was in the process of writing a letter, his head bowed low over the page as he concentrated.
Stephanie felt her heart jump at the sight of him and Tony's words drifted through her mind, for about the twentieth or so time since he'd spoken them. Mentally, she made a note to yell at him later before he left. Thanks to him she'd started questioning everything Bucky said and did, trying to puzzle out how Tony had come to the conclusion he had. She'd also started questioning her own actions. She'd never been in love, had no idea what it even felt like, but surely she would know if she was, right? She'd seen her parents, Bucky's parents, couples in the halls at school. She knew what love looked like and, yes, she would admit she and Bucky did not entirely act like friends all the time. But they'd been together forever, even having sleepovers as little kids where they'd slept in one giant tangle in the same bed. Their relationship was simply different was all. People might not understand it but that didn't automatically mean it must be romantic.
Right?
She sighed. The sound must have been louder than she'd intended because Bucky's head snapped up. His eyes widened and Stephanie saw his mouth actually gape open an inch or so. She felt herself flush, yet again, and self-consciously wrapped both arms around his uniform, pressing it against her chest. That was ridiculous, she mentally chided herself. She'd done shows, posters, and just paraded through the barracks without a thought so why the heck was she now suddenly self-conscious?
"What?" she asked when it became apparent Bucky was quite content to gape at her. "It's not like you haven't seen the posters."
"They did not do you justice," Bucky said with heartfelt sincerity and Stephanie bit back a half smile at the compliment. She took a step forward into the tent, holding his uniform out.
"I brought your clothes back."
"You can keep them," Bucky groused even as he put the papers down to get up and come get them. "I hate the thing."
"That's too bad," Stephanie blurted as he took the bundle from her. "I really liked how they looked on you." Her face went red hot and Bucky froze, staring at her. Then a slow, pleased smile spread across his face.
"If that's the case I may have to rethink my feelings on the subject." He turned away and went to crouch in front of his footlocker to put them away. Stephanie took a few steps farther in, nodding toward the papers.
"Who are you writing?"
"My folks," he closed the lid and stood back up. "I was able to call them to let them know the rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated." He faced her again, raising an eyebrow. "They very much would like to speak with you by the way when you have time."
Stephanie felt her blood run cold and her eyes widened in horror. "You told them?"
"Of course," Bucky said as if she really should have known that which, to be honest, she should have. "They promised your mother to keep an eye out for you and promised me later before I left. Next thing they know no one can get ahold of you or has even seen you in weeks."
Stephanie flinched in guilt, clutching her hands together and looking down at her boots. "I'm sorry. It didn't occur to me they'd even check in."
He stepped in front of her and a finger came up under her chin, lifting her head up. Stephanie looked up into his eyes and her heart fluttered inside her chest in a way she'd never felt before.
"You know my parents love you like their own," Bucky said, "and Rebecca thinks of you like a sister."
"I owe them an apology," Stephanie said with a sigh.
"Yes," Bucky agreed, reached to take her hands in his, "you really do. You need to get it through your head you're not as alone as you like to think you are, you punk."
"Jerk," Stephanie muttered. "You know, when I went over to get you and Phillips figured I wasn't coming back he started a letter of condolence for me. It was made out to Senator Brandt, the guy who oversees the show." The slimy, scumbag who oversaw the show but she left those descriptors out.
"Idiots," Bucky muttered, looking to the left as something caught his eye. "They should have made it out to my parents and sent it along with mine." He sighed and looked back at her with a frown. "On a different topic, what are you dressed like that for? I thought you said you were done with the show."
"I am," Stephanie said. "This is for a new photoshoot. I have to go look pensive over Captain America's grave. You know, propaganda and all that." She grinned up at him, brilliantly. "They're going to let me fight, Buck," she said, her excitement boiling over. "I don't know the specifics but they're going to let me. They're going to stick with the story, that I took up Captain America's shield after he fell and carried on in his place."
Bucky frowned, troubled. "You going to keep the same name? Captain America?"
"I don't think so," Stephanie said. "I'm hoping they'll let me go with Captain Liberty but I suppose even just keeping Lady Liberty would be fine."
Bucky nodded. Stephanie could tell he wasn't happy with the idea of her being in danger again but he also probably already knew there was no way to put that proverbial horse back in the barn. He looked away from her, fixing his eyes on some distant spot in the tent and Stephanie stood quietly, letting him work it through.
Finally, he took a deep breath, let it out and looked back to her, the old, cocky, Bucky Barnes smirk on his face. "Photoshoot, huh? You mind if I join you?"
Stephanie smiled and reached for his arm which he immediately held out for her.
"Absolutely," she said happily. "Let's go."
***
"You'd think they'd have waited for an overcast day," Bucky said, glancing up at the brilliant blue sky overhead and the lazy white clouds drifting across. "It's not like they'd have had to wait long, it changes every few minutes."
"They wanted it this way on purpose," Stephanie explained, trying her best not to curse as her boots tried their utmost to kill her. The clearing they'd picked looked level enough on the surface but the thick grass turned out to be simply hiding the small divots and small mounds of dirt out to get her. Bucky absently looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his side and she shot him a grateful look as it helped steady her. "It's all symbolic," she continued. "Bright new day, hope dawning anew, don't give up the sun is still shining, that sort of thing. An overcast sky would look--"
"Hopeless," Bucky cut in. "I get it. They do love their propaganda don't they?"
"That they do," Stephanie said. They came to a stop in the center of the clearing. A mound had been built up, mostly covered over with grass and flowers with bits of dirt poking through. A makeshift wooden cross stood forlornly at one end with a helmet hanging off the top. An empty pair of boots stood at the base and a rifle was leaning against it. The clearing itself was filled with the crew set up with all their equipment to take pictures. Tony was there as well leaning against a truck along with Polly who'd come along to watch but seemed far more interested in gazing adoringly at Tony.
He pushed off the truck as they approached and came over to hand her the prop shield she'd given him in the movie. "Ready to take on my job, Sweetheart?"
"I better be," Stephanie replied. "You're all leaving after this, aren't you?"
He nodded. "Yep, managed to push it back long enough to watch this. Feels like the end of our show, you know? Wanted to see it."
"I understand." A deep rush of sadness flooded her as she realized she wasn't going to get to see Tony or Polly or any of the other girls for a very, very long time.
"Hey, now," Tony said, lightly chucking her under the chin. "Don't go getting greedy now. No one gets to have it all."
"I know," Stephanie said, looking down to scrub at her eyes quickly before anyone noticed. "I'm fine."
An arm slid around her waist again and she looked up at Bucky who was glaring at Tony. "What did you say to her," he started to demand, only to stop as Stephanie laughed and put a hand on his chest.
"It's fine," she insisted. "It wasn't him. I was just being nostalgic is all. I won't miss the show, but I will miss the people I worked with."
One of the producers called her and she took a deep breath before putting her chin up and walking over to the fake grave. She grabbed the straps on the back of the shield, held it down near her knees and focused on the grave in what she hoped was a pensive look. They'd also want stoic, confident and brave but they would start with this one and move one after.
She got about five minutes in before she spontaneously burst into tears.
One second she was looking at the grave, her mind supplying her with images of it being real and of it being Bucky in there because she'd failed him or, worse yet, it being empty because she hadn't been able to find him to bring him home and the next thing she knew she was sobbing as hard as that day in the woods.
Bucky was suddenly there and she dropped the shield and threw herself against him, grabbing his shirt and pressing her face into his chest while he wrapped one arm around her and rubbed her back with the other.
"Anyone ever tell you that your imagination is a real bastard?" he asked casually and she gave a choked laugh. "I'm not dead," he said gently, "and I'm certainly not in some hole in the ground with flowers growing out of it."
"You could have been," Stephanie said dully. She was starting to calm down but kept her face pressed against his chest to avoid having to acknowledge she'd just broken down in front of the entire crew.
"But I'm not," Bucky said firmly. "Stop focusing on what could have been, Steph. Trust me, it'll drive you insane."
She nodded and pulled away from him, keeping her hands curled into his shirt. "You're right. I'll do my best."
"You gotta admit," Tony said suddenly, walking up to meet them, "it ain't exactly fair to expect you to do this, after what you went through." He glanced at Bucky appraisingly, "I've got an idea that might help, Sergeant, if you'd be willing."
Bucky was, which led to him being taken back to camp to get changed into his dress uniform. Once he returned they put him at the head of the grave, angling him so he was managing to salute both her and the grave in one motion. Stephanie faced dead ahead with him in her line of sight and if there were still tears tracking down her face at least it added to the overall imagery and didn't look as if she were about to break down entirely.
By the time it was over she was emotionally exhausted and more than happy to head home. She took a step or two and immediately felt her foot twist to one side as the ridiculous heel of her boot caught on a low point of ground. The heel sank into the soft dirt as her foot twisted, just enough to jerk her off balance entirely. Her feet went out from under her and she went down hard, catching herself with her hands as she hit the ground. She swore as grit and debris raked through her palms and knees and slapped the ground in frustration, which was stupid as it just sent another burst of pain through her hands.
"I hate these things!" she shouted at no one in particular. "And whose idea was it to wear them everywhere? They're made for a stage! A nice, flat stage with no stupid hidden holes trying to kill me!"
Bucky knelt in front of her, taking her hands and checking them over. "Language," he said in amusement and she glared at him.
"You wear the damn things and we'll see how good your language is," she said in annoyance.
He chuckled. He got to his feet and grabbed her arms, pulling her up. Then, before she could react, he slid an arm around her waist, knelt to slide his other under her legs and straightened, swinging her up into his arms in one, easy motion.
"I can walk," Stephanie groused and he raised an eyebrow.
"Recent history begs to differ." He headed toward the car and, the others members of the crew scrambled to get out of their way.
"I'm burning these when I get back," Stephanie said, her knees and hands still throbbing. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd gotten a skinned knee or hands, maybe when she'd been six or seven?
Bucky sat her in the passenger seat and she leaned over to sigh at the sight of her stockings torn at the knees and streaked with spots of blood from where she'd scraped the skin off her knees. The show would probably expect her to pay for them. "I'm burning the whole damn outfit," she growled.
"That would be a travesty," she thought she heard Bucky say and frowned at him.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said with a grin, going around to swing into the driver's seat. He waved a set of keys at her and then proceeded to turn the car on with them.
"Where'd you get those?" she asked in suspicion. They'd been driven to the photoshoot by one of the production crew.
Bucky shrugged. "Around." He gave her a raised eyebrow. "Back to camp?"
"Yes," Stephanie said with passion, "please."
He laughed. "Your wish is my command, Lady Liberty."
"That's Captain," Stephanie said, fighting a smile as he pulled the car around. Behind them she thought she heard a shout but ignored it.
There were other cars. They could all still get home. She, in the meantime, was getting out of these damn shoes before they killed her.
***
"Don't worry about me," Tony told her later that evening, as he loaded his bags into the back of the Jeep he'd be driving to the docks to board the ship that would take him and the girls back to the States. "I tend to land on my feet."
Stephanie pulled herself up to sit on the hood of the car, her legs dangling over the side. She'd changed back into her civilian clothing, which included pants and sensible shoes she'd never been more grateful for. She'd stopped by the Medical Tent to get her hands and knees cleaned and the serum already had the minor cuts and abrasions well on their way to healing. "Your very flat feet?"
He laughed. "Those would be the ones." He reached in a back pocket and pulled out a square of paper, holding it up. "Besides, I've got a personal recommendation from the nation's new hero saying what a help I was to her in the show."
Stephanie shrugged. It was the least she could do, considering Tony couldn't tell anyone he'd been Captain America. As far as the world was concerned the Captain, and all his fame and notoriety, had died and been buried. Tony was just some guy who'd worked on putting the show together and taking it apart again after. He had the money he'd made but couldn't use a single connection he'd made from the show or any of the fame. Stephanie had written the letter and had also spoken to Phillips who, surprisingly, had agreed to try and help Tony get a good job once he was back home. Stephanie had every intention to keep up on it and make sure it actually happened. Tony deserved the best and she was going to make sure he got it.
Tony finished adjusting his bags and came to lean against the car door, facing her.
"You think the new poster will replace the old one in popularity" she asked, trying to lighten the situation.
Tony snorted. "Doubtful, unless they'd put you in the outfit they had you in for the movie."
Stephanie scowled, her spirits deflating. "No wonder Hodge--"
"Don't finish that sentence," Tony cut in sharply. "It isn't true and you know it."
"I know," Stephane relented. She smiled in apology. "Sorry, I let it get to me for a moment."
Tony pushed off the Jeep and reached up to put his hands on her waist and help lift her down from the hood. Once her feet touched the ground he wrapped both arms around her in a bear hug.
"You be careful," he said shortly. "And tell that idiot of yours if anything happens to you I'm holding him responsible."
Stephanie hugged him back, feeling her eyes starting to burn again. "You better write." She pulled away and Tony got in the Jeep.
"I will. You better stay safe."
"I'll do my best," Stephanie said.
He nodded. "Good." He frowned and hesitated before saying, "and do me another favor. Tell that guy of yours how you really feel, would you? Watching the two of you dance around each other like skittish kittens is painful, Sweetheart."
Stephanie's eyes went wide and she glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to be listening. She wrapped her arms around her chest and stepped forward, close to him, dropping her voice to a hiss. "You need to stop saying that, it isn't true!"
He looked amused. "You sure about that, Sweetheart?"
"I--" Stephanie dug her fingers into her arms and looked down at her feet. "How would I even know," she mumbled, "and even if I did what --- and I mean, what if -- and then--" she made a sound of pure frustration and looked back up at him. "Why did you have to say that?" Her voice wavered just a fraction and she clenched her jaw. "Things were fine," she said shakily, "just fine."
"No," Tony said, his voice compassionate, "they were static is what they were and that wasn't doing anything for either one of you." He sighed. "You ain't ever been in love before, have you, Sweetheart?"
Stephanie looked away from him and shrugged. "No."
"All right," Tony said. "You got yourself any female friends? Like that agent lady, Carter or whatever. You two seem to be friends. Are you?"
Stephanie nodded. "Yeah, why?"
"Just trust me on this," Tony said. "Talk to her about Barnes, all right? She seems to have a good head on her shoulders." He frowned, "aside from her judgment on helping you jump out of planes behind enemy lines but, other than that, she seems solid. Talk to her."
"Why?" Stephanie asked.
Tony started to answer only to look behind her at something. "Just trust me on it, all right? I've never steered you wrong before have I?"
"No," Stephanie agreed. "You haven't."
Arms slid around her shoulders from behind and she heard Bucky's voice by her ear as he said, "See you later, Tony."
"You too, Sergeant," Tony said gamely. "You two look after each other."
"We always do," Bucky said casually.
Tony chuckled, waved and then was pulling away in a cloud of dust.
Stephanie grabbed Bucky's arms with one hand and raised the other to wave, fighting back tears as the Jeep grew smaller in the distance.
"You're really going to miss him," Bucky said from behind her.
"He was my friend when I desperately needed one," Stephanie said. She twisted around in his arms and he dropped them to rest his hands on her hips. "And he's right. I'm greedy. I want everything. I want to keep all my friends around and get to do what I've always dreamed of doing."
"Was it worth it?" Bucky asked. "Everything you gave up in return for what you've gained?"
"I got you back, didn't I?" Stephanie asked in return. "I'd say that was damn well worth it all right there."
She wrapped her arms around his waist, an action she'd done a thousand times throughout her life but, for the first time, it suddenly hit home that she wasn't just hugging Bucky, her childhood friend and companion. She was hugging James Buchanan Barnes, an adult, single, male, in the middle of camp. She caught sight of several soldiers walking past them and, her face suddenly going red hot, she started to back away, only to have him tighten his grip on her hips and pull her back, raising an eyebrow in question.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She'd moved her hands to his arms without thinking about it and studied them where they were gripping the stiff fabric of his uniform jacket, the outline of his biceps prominent underneath. A man. James Buchanan Barnes. She knew how she felt about Bucky, there was no question in her mind.
But how she felt about James?
How did she feel about him?
"Just something Tony said," she said slowly, her eyes still focused on his arms.
"What did he say?" Bucky asked.
Stephanie shook her head, knowing there was no way she was going to figure out whatever the hell she was feeling in the next two seconds. Part of her was annoyed at Tony for saying what he'd did and opening a door she hadn't even realized was there. Another part of her...wasn't even sure what door he'd opened or what lay beyond it. And if it was what Tony said...then what? Maybe it was true about her, maybe it wasn't and the same held true about Bucky. The way he treated her...people didn't understand. They were just so close, always had been and trying to shove Bucky into a particular box based on the sorts of relationships people were used to instead of the relationship she and Bucky had, meant they could be dead, dead wrong about him. And if they were and she started feeling something that would never be reciprocated or, worse, that she idiotically confessed and it got her rejected...it could absolutely ruin everything.
"Nothing," she repeated. She let out a huff and looked up at him with a grin she was sure he didn't buy. "Nothing at all." She changed the subject, knowing in advance he wouldn't call her on it. "Phillips said his division is being called back to London. I'm supposed to go too, more debriefing and then probably trying to figure out what to do with me." She hesitated. "You're coming too, right?"
He gave her a look that suggested he was questioning her intelligence. "Hell, yeah, I'm coming. I let you go alone and you're liable to let scientists start experimenting on you again."
Stephanie rolled her eyes. "It was one time."
"One time to many," Bucky retorted. "Clearly, leaving you to your own devices is just asking for trouble."
"Well, in that case," Stephanie said, holding her arm out, "I'd say you and I better get a move on to London."
Bucky snorted and linked his own arm through hers, the two of them turning toward where Phillips was having the trucks loaded on the other side of camp. "To London then, Mrs. Barnes."
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. Barnes? Why can't you be Mr. Rogers?"
"Because my nickname is Bucky, or Buck, and I'd be Buck Rogers," Bucky said sensibly.
"You make a good point," Stephanie said. "People would be expecting you to shoot off into the future and leave us all behind."
"Not all of you," Bucky said with a smirk. "If I'm going to the future you're damn well going with me."
Stephanie laughed. "I'm not sure that's how the story goes, Buck."
He shrugged. "It's how my story goes."
Stephanie shook her head and didn't argue. Instead she grabbed his arm with her free hand and pulled in close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. It made of a very awkward walking position but she managed it.
Her mind returned to her earlier struggle and her good humor faded just a bit. Tony was absolutely right on one thing, she conceded. She really needed to talk to another woman about...whatever this was, or wasn't. As Peggy was the only other woman in the vicinity that meant Stephanie needed to talk to her.
She just desperately hoped the other woman would have some answers, because Stephanie knew she didn't have a single one.