In a prison cell, we find Dr. Zola looking around at his new surroundings. Colonel Phillips walks in with a file and a tray of food.
"Sit down," Phillips commands.
"What is this?" Zola questions.
"Steak."
"What is in it?"
"Cow. Doctor, do you realize how difficult it is to get ahold of a prime cut like that out here?"
"I don't eat meat."
"Why not?"
"It disagrees with me."
"How about cyanide? Does that give you the rumbly tummy, too? — Every Hydra agent that we've tried to take alive has crunched a little pill before we can stop him. But not you. So, here is my brilliant theory. You want to live."
"You're trying to intimidate me, Colonel."
"I bought you dinner," he says and slides over the file.
Zola reads it aloud hesitatingly: "'Given the valuable information he has provided and in exchange for his full cooperation, Dr. Zola is being remanded to Switzerland'?"
"I sent that message to Washington this morning, of course it was encoded. You guys haven't broken those codes, have you? That would be awkward."
"Schmidt will know this is a lie."
"He's going to kill you anyway, Doc. You're a liability. You know more about Schmidt than anyone. And the last guy you cost us was Captain Rogers' brother-in-law and best friend and the husband of General Viper, so I wouldn't count on the very best of protection. It's you or Schmidt. It's just the hand you've been dealt."
"Schmidt believes he walks in the footsteps of the gods. Only the world itself will satisfy him."
"You do realize that's nuts, right?"
"The sanity of the plan is of little consequence."
"And why's that?"
"Because he can do it!"
"What's his target?"
"Heh, his target—is—Everywhere."
● ● ●
Peggy finds us at the pub and makes her way to Steve. After I get him mostly calmed down, I hide myself in a corner while he desperately tries to get drunk.
"Ady and uh—Erskine—told me that the serum wouldn't just affect my muscles and reflexes—he said it would affect my cells to create a protective system of healing and regeneration. Which means—I can't get drunk. Did you know that?"
"Yes, your sister made it pretty clear when she would have difficult days and drink like crazy but still be stone cold sober. You know, it wasn't your fault, Steve."
"You read the reports?"
"Yes."
"Then you know that's not true."
"You both did everything you could—"
"The one time he needed me to help him, I couldn't."
"Did you believe in Barnes? Respect him?" Steve gives her a look. "Then stop blaming yourself. Allow him the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you both worth it."
I let out a choked sob at her choice of words, and I bury my head in my knees as I sink to the ground.
"You know—she hasn't even had a drink. She cut off her emotions. It's like she doesn't want to care for herself anymore, but she has to focus on everyone else around her. Peggy, I'm scared."
I stand up and walk over to this table. I sit down for a moment before finally looking up at him.
"Grant, there's something you should know. And don't you dare say anything until I can get this out———I'm pregnant."
"What!? Gracie? You're—"
"Yes. I just don't know what to do, G. I couldn't even save their father, how am I going to be able to raise them?"
"We'll figure it out, and I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going after Schmidt. The guys and I are going to burn every hole there is for him to hide in. And we're not going to stop until he and all of Hydra are captured or dead."
"Let's go then," Peggy says, and I had honestly forgotten she was here.
We make our way back to base, gather the guys, and plan our strategy.
"Johann Schmidt belongs in a bug house. He thinks he's a god and he's going to blow up half the world to prove it. Starting with the U.S.A." Phillips says.
"That's insane," Dum Dum counters.
"So's Hitler, but he's gotten pretty far with less than Schmidt has," Peggy retorts.
"But Hydra would need millions of men, fleets of transport. They'd have to be fed, fueled—" Falsworth starts.
"Schmidt's working with powers beyond our capabilities. He gets across the Atlantic, he'll wipe out the entire eastern seaboard in an hour," Howard says.
"Every able-bodied man we have is either here or in the Pacific. Our borders are wide open," I say.
"How much time have we got?" Jones questions.
"According to my new best friend, under twenty-four hours," Phillip answers.
"Where is he now?" Steve asks.
"Hydra's last base is here, in the Alps—" Phillips replies. "Five hundred feet below the surface."
"What are we supposed to do?" Morita asks. "It's not like we can just knock on the front door."
Steve looks at me, and I say, "Why not? That's exactly what we're going to do."
● ● ●
I stay behind in the command center while everyone else acts out my strategy. About two or three hours later, I hear static coming from the radio. I tune the frequency and hear:
"Agent Rogers, come in—"
"Grant, is that you? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, Gracie, I'm fine."
"Where's Schmidt?"
"Dead."
"What about the plane?"
"That's a little bit harder to explain."
"I can walk you through it. You can override—"
"Sweetheart, there isn't enough time."
"Grant, don't—Don't say that! We'll be fine. There's a landing site—"
"It won't let me change course."
"Then override—"
"Ady, it's rigged to blow on impact. I've got to put it in the water."
"But—"
"Ady?"
"Yes, Steven?"
"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for being such an idiot. I'm sorry about Bucky, and I'm sorry that I can't meet your baby. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Steven Grant. You are the best baby brother I could've asked for. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Adelaide Grace. This is my choice. I promise, Ady, I'll meet you at the old cafe. I can't—" he cuts off as I hear a crash. All I can do is let out mangled sobs as I crumple to the floor. Everyone quickly runs into the room, and I know. They heard everything.
● ● ●
Three months later I give birth to healthy twin baby boys. I name them James Buchanan Barnes, Jr., and Steven Anthony Barnes. It is around this time that we give up on the idea of finding Steve whether that be dead or alive. Phillips brings me the reports to sign, and I stamp them as inactive. I take out the picture of pre-serum Steve and set it on my desk as well as a photo from my wedding of me, Bucky, Steve, Howard, and Becca. It is decided that I will be the director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division which is what we recreate from the Strategic Scientific Reserve in 1950. I'm fairly excited as it gives me a new sense of purpose, but for the next eighteen years or so, I'm taking a well-deserved break to raise the twins. I will however be traveling around the world to help SHIELD's cause. We'll see how it goes, I guess.