Six

I looked around and surveyed the room I was in. A low bungalow, in a row of low bungalows, in a shipping yard in Normandy. Everyone here was dead.

I'd changed my tactics the last month. I'd decided it wasn't really fair to kill low level Hydra guards who didn't have even half of the sense it would require to actually know who they were working for. So I was trying to keep those casualties to a minimum. Let's just say, maybe some of Steve's goodness had gotten to me. I wasn't sure.

I'd developed a new strategy. A few weeks ago I'd cleared out a Hydra base with a large stockpile of knock-out gas. I'd decided that it needed to belong to me, along with a gas mask, and I'd just been dosing the outside guards unconscious since then, and only taking out my 36 years of aggression on the important people inside of the buildings. The guys outside, they were peons, making shit money to do a dangerous job. Maybe a little dance with near-death would change their mind. Maybe I'd run into them later and take them out of existence. It was their choice, really.

Everyone outside of the bungalows was safely sleeping and disarmed. I'd cleared the other rooms, one by one, making quick work of the people inside. This last one- I'd kicked the door in, ducked, waited for everyone firing at me to have to stop to reload, and cleared the place. My weapon at the ready, I entered the room. Eight men lay on the floor. I stepped over them, heading to the back. There were three doors at the rear of the room.

“Come on out, Valdez. I know you're here.” I growled, positioning myself so that I could fall behind a file cabinet if I needed to.

I knew I wouldn't need to. Once Valdez's guards were gone, he was as good as mine. I'd followed him to this shitty office at the shipping yard, but he was usually in a large building out of Moscow that I was going to need the Avengers to help me take down. Not wanting to ask for help yet, I'd been keeping tabs on the movers- and- shakers from the Moscow building, and attacking them other places.

The door opened and two hands stuck out. “I'll give you what you want. Don't kill me. I have important work to do.”

“Come out, Doctor Valdez.” I barked at him. The door opened and a tall, well built man with graying hair and glasses stepped out. “That's far enough. On your knees, Doctor.” He fell to his knees halfway between me and his office. I stepped out of the shadows and removed my mask.

“You're supposed to be dead.” He whispered in disbelief.

I leaned down close to him. “Do you think I'm stupid enough to be dead right now? I know all of your moves. Did you really let yourself believe you were safe?” I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

“How much do you remember?” He didn't answer my question. He was much more concerned a to whether what I knew would catch up to him. Legally probably. Moron. It definitely had caught up with him, but his God complex wouldn't let him believe it.

I stood up, smacking him in the side of the head with the butt of my rifle. “Enough to be here. Enough to track you down.”

He grabbed the side of his head where a bruise was developing. “Why are you here?

“Valdez, you stabilized the serum. You tested it on me, several times, before it was ready. You made the One-Thousand into that monster. You aren't this stupid, you can't be. I'm here to kill you. And you know you deserve it.”

“The One-Thousand was my best work yet.”

I was getting tired of this guy. I'd wanted him to see my face before he died. He'd seen it. Clock was ticking. “I killed the One-Thousand. I was your best work yet; ironic, isn't it?” I asked, before shooting him. I set one of my incendiary devices down in the center of the floor, set the timer, and left. I dropped the Death tarot card in the middle of the courtyard between the buildings. The bungalow exploded as I rappelled up the outer wall of the compound. I was in a hurry. I had several things to do in the next few hours, and one of them involved finding a dress and attending a Gala.

* * *

Wade hadn't thought anyone knew where he lived. He was pretty secretive about everything. In fact, he had been positive that no one knew where he hung his hat. Until today. Right now. The fact that this wasn't even his main residence concerned him. He was in a small row house in London, where he stayed when working in the UK. He had opened the door this morning to get the newspaper and found a small red motorbike on his front stoop. It looked a lot like the one that had been blown up by Hydra the night they'd all failed to save Six.

He looked up and down the street, a million thoughts in his head. Did Hydra know where he was? How had they known he was there? Why hadn't they blown up his bike? What was going on? God Damn it, Lagherty dropped the ball? Augh!

Determining the coast was clear, he pulled free the envelope that was taped to the windshield, and opened it. Inside was a handwritten note. It was only a few lines long, but it made Deadpool smile, and alleviated his fear.

“Wade, thanks for letting a girl borrow a bike. And for all the help. I'll come calling next time there's something fun to fight. Until then, keep Lagherty out of trouble. I'll let Steve know you said hello.”

Wade once again looked up and down the street, but he knew, even if Six were watching him, he'd never find her.

* * *

“Buck, I have a problem.” Steve dropped the weight bar and looked at his friend, who was busy throwing punches at a huge sandbag. They'd had to remodel the punching bags when Steve had gotten there because he kept tearing them off of the ceiling when he got too into training. Once Bucky had come along, the bags were done. One hit from the metal arm and it was flying down the hall, out the window, or taking someone out who was training on the other side of the room. After Tony had replaced two windows and Thor had been hit with an errant punching bag and nearly clocked the Winter Soldier with his hammer, the chains, ceilings, and bags had been reinforced.

“What's that?” Bucky turned to Steve, hearing the weight bar bounce on the rubberized mat on the ground. He raised his brows. “Only 300? Taking it easy today or something?”

“I'm distracted. Best not to go all out when you aren't concentrating.” Steve shrugged and answered matter-of-factly.

“So what's your problem?”

“Six is supposed to be at the Gala tomorrow. She texted me this morning confirming. And... I still don't know how to dance.”

“How can you still not know? You totally know how. You've been to a bunch of Tony's parties.” Bucky replied, then thought about it. “And I've never seen you dance at any of them...”

Steve shook his head. “What if she wants to dance?”

It was Bucky's turn to shrug. “You really think after everything that's happened the last few months, you not knowing how to dance is going to be the deal breaker for her?”

“No. I don't think it'll be a deal breaker. But I want to know how.” He looked at his hands.

“Just have her teach you?” Bucky suggested.

“I can't. I have to learn.” Steve peered at Bucky. “It may be stupid, but it's... something Peggy said to me. Seventy years ago. And then last month.”

“What?” Bucky looked confused, and Steve knew he was being cryptic.

“Peggy was supposed to be my dancing partner. Only that fell through. She told me a while ago, when Six showed up, that I needed to find a new one. So see, I have to know how.”

“You realize she wasn't being literal, right?”

“I know that, Buck.” Steve frowned. “But I feel like I need to know anyways. Do you know how?”

“You know that I do.”

“So, teach me, then.”

“How am I supposed to teach you to dance?”

“I don't know. You learned somehow.”

“Yeah. My mom taught me when I was seven.”

“Okay... so this situation isn't ideal, but I'm sure you can relay the information.” Steve stood up. “Come on, man, I need to know.”

Bucky sighed. “Fine.” He hesitantly approached Steve. “God damn it, that means I have to dance the girl part.”

“I guess. Though who knows, maybe Six is used to leading?” Steve smiled at his own joke.

“Okay, so what kind of dancing? Like the two-step? The waltz?” Bucky forced himself to dance awkwardly with Steve. “So if you're the guy, which I'm going to assume is possible but not probable...”

“Hey!” Steve smirked.

“Just saying...” Bucky frowned. “Your hands go here and here and then you take a step forward and she... I take a step back and-”

“What the hell are you two doing?” Natasha rounded the corner and stopped, peering at the two supersoldiers with a coy look on her face. “Is this how you usually train?”

Both men dropped their hands to their sides and stepped away from each other.

“Uhhh..” Bucky stammered.

“He's teaching me how to dance.” Steve pointed out.

“Because that's a totally normal thing to find two serumed-out WW2 veterans doing.” Natasha raised a brow. “You don't know how to dance, Steve?” She asked, ending the teasing as fast as it began.

“No.”

“And I don't want to dance the girl part.” Bucky stated.

“Enough with the outdated gender roles.” Nat rolled her eyes.

“You were just making fun of us!” Bucky pointed out.

“Yeah because I came in here to find a Hydra Assassin and Captain America acting out a scene from 'Dirty Dancing.' That's fucking weird. But you're right. My bad.” She agreed.

“I got that reference.” Steve smiled.

“I didn't.” Bucky frowned. He had stepped away from the dancing.

“I swear. Do I have to do everything around here?” Natasha dropped her gym bag and approached the two men. “Alright, Steve, I'll teach you but that does involve you actually touching me. Since Six got rid of the virgin situation I'm assuming you won't faint?”

“For the love of God, Natasha, I wasn't a virgin!”

* * *

“How is Steve doing, Natasha? He came by the other day, but he was kind of closed off.” Peggy lay back on her pillow, her bright eyes peering at the redhead seated by her bed. “You know I worry about him.”

“He's doing all right, Peggy. He really is.” Nat smiled. “In fact, I taught him how to dance the other day.”

Peggy beamed. “That means he must not be lonely anymore.”

Nat shook her head. “No, he's not.” She paused. She wasn't sure what exactly she should tell Peggy. What Peggy would even remember. But mostly, what she should let Steve tell her himself. “I can't tell you a lot, I think Steve should. But... he's okay, Peg. He's okay. And he's happy.”

* * *

Bucky was training with Mayday today. Knives again. As much as they had been training, she really wasn't very good with them. She'd been doing this for months. At first he'd thought maybe he was just a terrible teacher, so he'd set hr up with Nat, then Thor, then Steve, then Tony. No, it just turned out Mayday wasn't very good at hand to hand combat. It wasn't her fault. They'd all had years of experience. She had worked at a nail salon until six months ago or so.

He was starting to really hate pretend-killing his girlfriend with knives so proficiently. So when he lunged at her for the seventh time that day, he was expecting to take her out yet again. She was so bad at this, in fact, that she often accidentally moved herself in the way to get stabbed. What he wasn't expecting was for her to duck under his knife, throwing her arm up in the air to catch him by the wrist. His left arm went dead, which happened to be the hand he was holding the knife in. The dulled blade clattered to the floor, and he spun, glaring at a clearly elated Mayday.

“God damn it, Mayday.” He stated in exasperation.

She smiled, hopping away from him and then back, kissing him on the cheek and revamping his arm with simply a touch of her hand. “I disarmed you.”

“Apparently.”

She nodded gleefully. “That means you owe me dinner.”

* * *

Steve had heard from Six earlier in the day; she'd said she would meet him at the Gala and didn't need a ride from the airport because she was running late. He was a little worried she wouldn't show up; he wasn't sure why. Maybe because he had experience with people flying over the ocean and not making it to their own dates...

He'd gotten ready across town in his apartment. It was a really fancy affair, a breaking-ground ceremony for Tony's new compound outside of the city which would be making helicarriers eventually. The actual breaking-of-the-ground had happened earlier in the day, with the Gala this evening.

He pulled the knotted tie tightly up to his throat and put on the jacket of his formfitting tuxedo. He felt weird in this suit. He wasn't sure why a tux was more foreign to wear for him than a star spangled unitard, but it was. He looked at the clock. It was seven thirty. The Gala started at eight. He grabbed his keys and exited his apartment; he wasn't sure when Six was going to how up but he wanted to be there when she did.

* * *

I tapped my fingernails nervously on the armrest as the plane descended from the sky into the airport. I looked at my watch. Shit. I was going to be late. The plane had had a delay at Heathrow which I'd texted Steve about, and then another one where we'd had to circle for over an hour and I hadn't been able to contact Steve because I'd been in the air. As soon as the wheels hit the ground and the doors opened, I was up and off of the jet, my overnight bag slung on my shoulders. I hightailed it for customs, pulling my identification out of my purse.

I looked down at it. Y/M/N Y/L/N were printed on the fake passport that Steve had brought me last time. It was good to have Tony Stark on your side. He could falsify an identity with the best of them. My fingerprints were now firmly connected to this fake person. Who was now me. I'd read the file; I'd gone to school in New Jersey and graduated with a degree in art from NYU. It was all so unlike me, no one would ever think to connect this to Y/N Marceau. Ever.

I handed the passport to the TSA Agent in customs, and waited nervously. This would be when I found out if Tony was as good as he said he was. The man looked down at the passport, punched some numbers into his computer, scanned something, and slid it back to me across the desk. “Welcome back to the United States, Ma'am.” He said.

“Thank you.” I smiled, took the papers, and left. Flagged down a taxi outside of the airport; climbed in the backseat. “Avenger Tower, please.” I said to the cab driver. He glanced back at me and it took a second but I recognized him. He was the cabdriver that I had walked in front of my first day in New York, in front of Avenger Tower. He'd almost hit me with his car. He seemed to recognize me too, and looked a little worried. But he turned around, hit the gas, and started driving.

I looked at my watch. It was 8:20. So much for arriving in time. I pulled my dress out of my bag. “Keep your eyes forward, sir. I have to change clothes.”

“What? Lady, what are you doing?” The man asked frantically, though he kept his eyes on the road.

“I'm late for a very important date.” I replied calmly, pulling the dress over my head and zipping it up the side. I quickly pulled on my pantyhose and heels, shoving everything else back into my satchel.

“Don't get me pulled over for breaking any public decency laws!” He warned.

“I'm dressed. We're fine.” I stated. He skidded to a stop out front of the tower. I handed him the fare plus a tip, and he left, no doubt happy to be rid of me. I looked up at the tower. It had been a long time. I breathed in the scent of snowy New York, and climbed the steps.

* * *

Bucky had been dancing with Mayday for nearly an hour, since the music started. He couldn't believe how much that woman loved to dance. She'd dance to anything, even songs that he swore were crappy in the forties and were still crappy now. She didn't care.

He'd been going back and forth all day. He knew the time was right, but he was nervous. He went into battle with less concern that this! The cacophony of thoughts in his head was hitting a breaking point. Was it too quick? Did he seem desperate? Were they ready? Fuck it, I'm doing it, he finally thought, spinning his laughing girlfriend around on the dance floor and dipping her low as the song ended. He pulled her back up into his arms, and then gave her a devious look.

“What's that for?” She asked, breathless.

“You'll see in a minute.” He smiled and took her hand. “Come with me.” He pulled her through the crowd, and around a corner to a more private part of the floor.

“Where are we going?” She asked, jovially following along.

“Right here.” Once they were around the corner, he pushed her gently back against the wall and kissed her, long and slow. He finally pulled away.

“Okay what was that for?” She flashed him a dazzling grin. “Did my dancing charm you that much? Because if so, I'll have to keep doing it.”

“Maybe it did.” He looked down at the ground. “Listen Mayday... I... damn it.”

“What?” Her grin fell from her face. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No!” Bucky took a deep breath. “I had something planned out to say, but I forgot what it was.”

She looked at him strangely, furrowing her brows.

He shrugged and pulled a small black box from his pocket. Opening it, he looked at her shyly from under his lashes.

“Is that what I think it is?” She asked, her face turning red.

Bucky nodded. “So I had something really smooth to say, but that went out the window.” He took her hand in his. “I know it's pretty quick, but we don't lead a normal life. We're constantly doing dangerous things. I needed to ask you, and ask now.”

“Ask me what exactly?” Mayday questioned. She was beside herself. She wasn't even able to believe this was happening until she heard it.

“Do you want to get married?” Bucky asked her, looking at the floor. He held up the ring. “I know it's not a big ring... but see, it's flat and the diamond is set into the band. It's smooth. So you can put your gloves on without it getting stuck? Right? And I'm pretty sure it's your size because I stole one of your rings and took it in with me...”

Mayday pulled him towards her, kissing him to make him stop talking and stop panicking. She looked into his eyes. “It's perfect. Anything you picked would be perfect. I don't even need a ring, Bucky. Yes, I'll marry you.”

He got the biggest smile on his face that Mayday had ever seen. He slid the ring out of the box and onto her finger, grabbed her and kissed her, and then threw her over his shoulder and walked towards the elevators.

“Where are we going now? Don't you want to find Steve and let him know?” Mayday giggled.

“Steve knows.” Bucky smiled.

“So where the fuck are we going?”

“Down to my old room. I still have the key and no one lives there yet.” He set her back on her feet in the elevator and arched an eyebrow at her. “I kind of want to celebrate for a few minutes. Alone.”

A couple of people had seen the big man sling his elated fiancee over his shoulder and make haste to the lift. Now, the last thing the party goers saw was two people kissing, and the elevator doors closing.

* * *

I left my bag and coat at the front desk and raced to the elevator. I decided I wanted to find Steve, not text him. That seemed too... stale. So I took the lift to the top floor, and stepped out into a wealth of people. I paused for a moment; this was a lot of people. I felt panic rise up in my chest, but I took a few deep breaths and calmed down. I'd been singlehandedly taking down Hydra the entire last month. I could handle a Gala.

I wove through crowds of well dressed people, looking for Captain America. I finally spotted him across the floor, staring out of a floor-to-ceiling window, drinking a beer from a green bottle. He wore a slim black tuxedo. I approached, my heels clacking on the marble floor and my tight, floor length black dress swishing behind me. “How's the night treating you, Captain?” I asked. He saw my reflection in the window and turned around, the pensive look on his handsome face being replaced with a smile. A real smile, that reached his eyes. This man was actually glad to see me.

“It's a lot better now.” He said, setting his bottle down and stepping towards me. His hands circled my waist and he looked down at me. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I straightened his tie. “So do you.”

“I was worried you wouldn't make it.”

“I promised I would.”

“Sometimes bad things happen in the Atlantic.” He shrugged. “I'm paranoid, what can I say?”

“Sometimes bad thingscross the Atlantic.” I smiled.

“Sometimes good things cross the Atlantic, too.” We were very close now, his breath a hot whisper in my ear. I had to give it to the man, I was melting. He nudged my chin up with his fingers, brushing his lips across mine.

“I'll take your word for it.” I smiled, happy with his arms around me.

“Do you want some champagne?” He asked. I nodded. He tore his eyes away from me and led me to the bar.

“Hey, it's the Dark Lady!” Tony held his champagne glass up. “You back to cause more damage to Steve's moral compass?”

“I might be.” I winked at Tony, raising my own champagne flute as well.

“Good. Soldier boy needs some excitement. See if you can get him to say the F word? And if he does, please let me know.” Tony grinned. He relished every opportunity to be as immense a dickhead as he could be.

“Tony, come on, I'm not going to.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Tony raised his brows and glanced at me. “I'm fairly sure she can make you say it. Somehow.”

Steve turned red. “Jesus, Tony.”

“Have a good night, kids.” Tony nodded at us lightheartedly and left to mingle with party guests.

“He's pretty confident I can get you to swear.” I smiled at Steve, leaning against the bar. “Why do you think that is? What ever could he have been implying?”

“They keep teasing me.” Steve looked sheepish but he was smiling, too. “Say the sex must be great because I've been in an unusually good mood lately.”

“Oh?” I snuggled up to his side. “So you've been in a good mood lately?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I have. I mean, the sex is great, I'm not going to lie. And other than constantly worrying about what you're doing... You're going to come here to stay eventually, right? And what can I say, I'm really looking forward to that.”

I nodded back. “Yeah, I am. And maybe sooner than I thought.”

He looked at me with surprise. “Sooner?” He grinned. “How soon?”

“I'm not sure, but I decided maybe I should slow down on the Hydra annihilation. I don't have to do it all in one go, you know?” I shrugged. “I have a few more bases and a few more Hydra scientists to check off my list; in fact I have to head back out tonight to catch a man in Venice in the morning. But after the next couple... then I'll come back to town. For good this time.”

Steve looked ecstatic. He shook his head slowly and smiled.

“What?”

“I love you.” He said, still grinning. “I don't care if it's stupid. I do.”

“I...” I stopped, and thought about it. “Yes. I do too.” I looked at his face. He was really happy. “It's been a long time.”

“It has. But it's a good feeling to have again.” He agreed.

“It is. It definitely is.”

“Do you want to dance?” He finally asked, looking hopeful.

“I don't remember how.” I replied honestly. I knew that I must have known how at some point. A con artist spy probably knew that kind of thing, to be able to blend in. But I couldn't remember.

“That's okay.” Steve took my hand. “I didn't know how to dance until Tuesday.”

* * *

A loud voice carried over the large room, over the people dancing and mingling at the Gala, over to us. I'd remembered how to dance; it had come back quickly. And even though Steve had just learned on Tuesday thanks to Natasha, he was really pretty good. The man had skills, what can I say?

I pulled myself back towards Steve at the end of a spin, paused, and cocked my head. “Steve, someone is calling you.”

“I know.” Steve smiled and shook his head. “I was trying to ignore it.”

“Steve! Steve's Lady Friend! Come lift the Hammer!” The voice boomed again. I looked over to where a large man with long blonde hair sat on a sofa surrounded by people. True to his word, a large silver hammer sat on the coffee table before him.

“Every party. Every single party.” Steve lamented.

“Why does he want us to lift that hammer?” I asked. “Who is that man?”

“That's Thor. He just got back from Asgard last night. He's... it's a long story. I'll tell you later.” Steve led me over to the group of party goers surrounding Thor, some who I knew and some I did not. “The hammer... Mjolnir. You can only lift it if you're worthy.”

“You are worthy then, no?” I asked him. Surely Captain America must be worthy. He shook his head.

“It moves a little, but I can't lift it.”

We walked up, and the man stood, extending his hand. “I am Thor.” He shook my small hand with his large one.

“I'm Six.” I replied.

Thor's eyes lit up. “Ah, yes, the lover of Steve!” He grinned at Natasha. “Welcome. It was high time Steve wasn't a virgin any longer!”

Natasha died laughing, and Steve scrunched up his face and turned red. “Oh for God's sakes, guys!”

Thor slapped Steve on the back. “I am only joking, my friend.” He looked at me and smiled, and gestured at the hammer. “Please, ladies first, try to lift the hammer.”

“You do know who I am, right?” I asked him, sauntering up to the table.

“I do, yes. But the hammer is mysterious in who it chooses.”

“Right.” I looked down at it, and gripped it with both hands. This wasn't happening. There was no way. I tugged at the hammer, and it moved. Just a little bit. It was heavy, but it moved. Thor looked shocked. My breath caught in my throat, and I let go of the hammer. It rocked slightly on the table. I wasn't ready to find out if I was worthy. Not now. That would bring with it more problems than I could handle. I turned to Steve. His eyes were round. I shrugged. “Can't lift it.”

He was looking at me with a strange mixture of shock and awe. I slipped back beside him, and he settled his arm around me.

Thor looked like he'd seen a ghost. Then he looked puzzled, and then amused. He was looking over my shoulder. Steve and I turned to find Bucky and Mayday weaving their way through the crowd. They both looked happy, and breathless. Mayday's curls were slightly out of place, and Bucky's top two buttons on his tux were undone and his tie was gone.

“And what exactly were you two just doing?” Tony quipped, taking in the pair of newcomers. “You two can't get through a single Gala without-”

“Mind your business, Tony.” Pepper admonished him, though she was grinning as well.

I saw Mayday look over at Bucky, and he smiled and nodded. She held out her left hand. A ring glinted on her finger.

“Oh my God!” Pepper stood up. “Congratulations!” She went to hug Mayday. Everyone was suddenly on their feet, congratulating the duo, wanting to see the ring, or trying to hug someone. I was slightly uncomfortable in such a festive situation, but I was very happy for Mayday, and for Bucky.

“Good for you, man.” Steve nodded at his friend. Bucky turned a pale red, and grinned. He watched Mayday with a longing look on his face. I'd ever seen the Winter Soldier look so happy before, ever. He looked over at me, sizing me up. I did the same.

“Welcome back, Six. I'm glad you aren't dead.” He finally said, extending a hand. I took it. The handshake was firm, but it was there. This man wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. And maybe, just maybe, we could be friends.

“He watches her the same way Steve watches you.” Bruce had come up beside me, and handed me a glass of wine. I took it and smiled in thanks. We both stood back a little bit, watching the revelry.

* * *

That night Steve and I went back to his apartment. I'd never seen it before. It was a small two bedroom place in Brooklyn. One room was his office, and the other his bedroom. It was sparse. A Queen sized bed, a dresser, a huge America Flag on the wall.

We'd left the party early to spend some time together alone, and then Steve was going to take me to the airport for a red eye at 3am. We'd barely made it through the front door before clothes came off, hands and mouths started exploring, and we'd fallen into the bedroom. Now Steve was sound asleep, lying on his back, the sheet and blanket slung low across his hips. I had gotten dressed and was ready to leave. I didn't want to wake him; he looked like he was sleeping peacefully, which was something he didn't do often. Even Captain America had demons. In all honesty, he had more demons than the rest of us did.

I stopped, noticing something. Beside his bed, on the nightstand, were two photos. One was of me. I was blonde, in a blue suit that I'd worn when turning myself in to the DGSE. I realized he didn't own any other photos of me, as me. They didn't exist. Only blurry photos of the assassin, or old photos of Y/N Marceau. This was the only one he could have chosen, and he'd placed it by his bed.

The other one was of himself and Bucky, back in the forties. Steve wore an outdated suit with stars and stripes on it and an unbuckled pith helmet who's straps swung by the sides of his head. Bucky had his hair cut short and wore a blue coat that buttoned up the side, a sniper rifle resting next to him. The light of youth and of of innocence shone in both of their eyes. It hurt, to see the faded nostalgia that it was replaced with today, but we had all hit hard times and we had all come out the other side very different people.

I took one last look at Steve, and picked up his phone from the nightstand. I flipped the camera around and took a photo of myself, smiling at the bright camera flash. I set the phone back down and crept out. Now Steve would have a new photo of me to hang onto until I was back.

* * *

three weeks later

Maria picked up the phone in her office. “This is the office of Maria Hill.” She spoke absentmindedly into the phone.

“Well well well, she's in the office.” A familiar voice said over the line.

“Fury.” Maria smiled. It had been a while since he'd gotten in touch. She wondered what the old guy was up to. Probably something kind of shady.

“Maria Hill.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “How the hell are you?”

“I'm good, Fury. I'm good. How are you?”

“I'm baffled, to be honest.”

“Baffled sir? About what?”

“Well I've been hearing about this 'Reaper' who's taking out a ton of Hydra agents.”

“Yes, Sir?” Maria replied.

“You don't have any theories on this person's identity?” Fury asked, sounding like he knew very well that she did.

“Well, sir, that would be classified. If I had any ideas, that is.”

“Sure it would.”

“If I have any insight, I'll be sure to let you know. In person, where the information would be secure.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Maria.”

“I learned from the best, Sir.”

“You may want to ask Steve about this 'Reaper' character, you know. Just a hunch.”

“Why is that, Sir?” Maria grinned. This back and forth game was entertaining.

“Because the base I just saw was the last one to be attacked, and... I'm fairly sure the marks I found on the walls were from a vibranium shield.”

“Oh. Well, I'll have to look into that.”

“You do that, Maria.”

“On it, Sir.”

* * *

three more weeks later

I'd gotten the message, from Peggy via Natasha. She wanted to see me. Of all of the things going on, seeing Peggy Carter made me the most nervous.

I stood in the doorway to her room. An old woman lay in a hospital bed, the top of a lace nightgown visible above the covers. She appeared to be sleeping. I turned to go, but a voice with a British accent stopped me.

“Are you lost, my dear?” Peggy asked. I turned around. I approached.

“Um, no. I'm not lost.” I stammered. “You sent for me. Had Natasha deliver a message that you wanted to see me. I'm Six.”

Peggy nodded. “Have a seat, Six.” She gestured at the recliner beside the bed. “It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.” I sat down. “Steve thinks very highly of you.”

“The same with you.” She turned her head towards me. “That's why I called on you.”

“All right.”

“Steve is a complicated man.” Peggy began. “He's a good man. No, he's a great man.” She looked like she was lost in a memory. “I wanted to meet you.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “To thank you for bringing him back.”

“Pardon?”

“He's been so lost, Six, since he woke up in the ice. First finding out I was old, and then Bucky coming back and remembering nothing. He put on a good front but I know him. I knew better. He was suffering. I wanted you to know that I've seen a change in him since you've been around. Some hope.” She smiled. “I just wanted to tell you in person that I'm glad, and to tell you to take care of him.”

I nodded. “I will, Ms. Carter.”

“Oh, honey, do call me Peggy.”

* * *

Steve came home that night from a movie with Bucky and then a grocery run, and unlocked his front door. He paused. Something was off. Someone was in his house. Someone who smelled like lavender.

He set his groceries on the island in the kitchen, smiling. She was home.

A figure stepped out into the doorway of his bedroom, silhouetted in moonlight. “You sure know how to keep a girl waiting.”

“Do you always sneak into a man's apartment and jump out when he least expects it?” Steve asked, turning to face her.

She stepped out into the kitchen light. “Sometimes. Depends on how well they've been behaving.”

Steve laughed. “I was wondering when you'd be back. You've been in Milan a long time.”

“So you know where my safe houses are then?”

Steve nodded imperceptibly. “I always know where you are.”

“That would be creepy coming from anyone but you.”

“Indeed it would. But considering what it is you're doing, I figured it was safest for someone to keep tabs on you.”

“You aren't wrong.” Six replied, still standing just this side of the door, smiling impishly at her Captain. “Thanks for the help in Taiwan.”

“Don't mention it. Anything for my best girl.” Steve paused. “Are you back for good?”

“Yes.”

A look came over Steve's face that was indescribable. He was elated. His heart beat faster. He hadn't been this excited in a long time. In years, at least. He finally had her, safe, and by his side. For good.

“So how come you haven't shown up at either of my apartments when I least expect it?” Six eyed him, her lips upturned.

“I could start doing that.” Steve crammed the ice cream he'd just bought into the freezer, shutting the door, and was in front of Six in only a few seconds. “I figured I should give you space.”

“Probably wise, but not very impulsive.”

“I'm a little worried someone may attack me and throw me over her shoulder onto the bed, if I were to sneak up on her. You know, like she did last time.” Steve grinned down at her, his hands traveling up her back.

“That can be arranged.” Six winked, grabbed Steve by his collar, and pulled him into the bedroom. “If you're down for it.”

“Always.”

Six and Mayday will return...