Grade A American Beef

He was done. She was it for him. He'd once been told by a high school friend that you can't judge whether or not a woman is wife material by taking her to bed, but that guy was a fucking idiot because Darcy was everything he'd ever wanted and more and the consummation of their relationship only solidified that.

She was snuggled back against his chest, his sweet woman, her perfect rump tucked up against his lap and her rock hard head underneath his chin.

And she was snoring. Loudly.

Goddamn but did he love that woman. He chuckled to himself and swept an errant curl from her face. She looked so beautiful like this and he couldn't believe how lucky he was that she loved him back….and maybe wanted to make a family together with him and his kid. The thought was dizzying and comforting all at once. He didn't know if he could face fatherhood alone. If that was what they decided to do. He was still uncertain in his suitability as a parent but Darcy's belief in him was a significant confidence boost.

Everything about the woman was a confidence boost. He grazed his fingers down her arm and along the ridges of her ribcage. The way she'd come apart underneath him had been particularly confidence building. His thoughts tripped fondly over his memories from earlier as his cybernetic fingers brushed down over the softness of her belly, tracing idly over her belly button.

She shifted in her sleep, arching away from his fingers and inadvertently pressing her ass against him. He bit back on a groan, his hand flexing against her stomach and drifting lower. He ran his hand up the smooth skin of her inner thigh and nuzzled into her neck, luxuriating in the scent of her.  

He brought his hand higher and higher until he was cupping her and just barely brushing his thumb against her. She sighed and shifted in his arms again, muttering something unintelligible, mostly still asleep.

“What was that, sweetheart? Couldn't quite catch it,” he rumbled in her ear.

Her voice was thick when she answered him. “Said you’re a tease.” She turned her head, eyes still closed and mouth seeking his blindly.

He met her searching lips, nipping at her bottom lip and pulling her further from the embrace of sleep and tighter into his. She responded by arching her back and rubbing her ass against him. He rutted against the tease and worked her with his hand more insistently.

“Oh fucking hell, Buck, why are you so good at this?”

“Well there was this...um lady I met in Italy once. She was very informative on a few things.”

Darcy chuckled and writhed under his attentions. “That sounds shady as fuck. What was she, a prostitute?” Bucky froze, his ears and cheeks growing hot.

“Oh my god, she was, wasn't she?” He could hear the delight in Darcy's voice.

“In my defense, I was unaware of that fact until, um, afterwards...stop laughing at me, Darce! She fleeced me! Had to spend every last dollar I had on her. Couldn't afford a pot to piss in for damn near a month.”

“Really? She couldn't have been that expensive,” she chuckled.

His face prickled with heat again. “Ah. I may have gone back. A few times. It was a very educational month.” He was met with further laughter from his girl. “Of which you are the beneficiary, I might add,” he admonished.

She continued to cackle in his arms, her ass jiggling against him in a way that wasn't meant to be teasing but was definitely making him twitch. “Jesus, Barnes, you know that's how syphilis happens, right?”

“I wore a rubber,” he exclaimed, tone slightly offended. He wasn't that stupid. “Besides, I'd had the serum by then. Made me kinda impervious to pretty much all illness.”

“Well thank god for that, you filthy old man,” she chuckled. “You and all your Italian hookers.”

He groaned and dropped his head to the back of her neck. “It was just the one hooker,” he whined.

If anything, Darcy only laughed harder.

He nipped at the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder in gentle reprimand. She sucked in a ragged breath and reached two slender hands between her thighs, removing his hand and angling him so he could sink into her in one sharp motion--

3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749...4...4

He drew in a stuttering breath, finally able to focus on the woman in his arms without blowing his fucking load like a damn two pump chump.

“How many decimal places did you get to this time?” She didn't even try to hide the laughter in her voice.

Bucky heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Only sixty. I'm getting better.”

Darcy gave a full throated laugh, tilting her head to the side to kiss him. “I love you, sexy mathboy."

He tamped down on the overwhelming desire to beam at her, configuring his features into something resembling a kicked dog. “I love you, too, Darce. Even if you're a mean, mean woman that lives to make fun of me. I'm gonna sic Steve on you someday. He hates bullies.”

Darcy clicked her tongue in dismay. “Ooh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Why don't you stop pouting and start moving? Can't laugh if I'm too busy having a good time.” She tapped a finger to her temple.

Bucky's gaze darkened and his mouth dropped open. “You make an excellent point,” he said with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. Her eyelids fluttered and she turned her head away from him again, thrusting her hips back to meet him.

He started thrusting at a steady pace. Darcy hummed her satisfaction and reached for his hand, her fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist to guide his fingers to her mouth. She bit down lightly on the digits and then began to stroke her tongue over them in conjunction with the strokes he was giving between her thighs. Heat licked up his spine, the combination of sensations torturous and heavenly at once.

Darcy made a frustrated whine in the back of her throat, drawing his attention to her. “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“Fuck, I don't know. I need...more. More of...something,” she grunted, irritation sharpening her tone.

He soothed his hand down over her hip, slowing his thrusts and then fully unsheathing himself. She made a slight sound of protest but he shushed her and swept his lips over her cheek. “Shh, don't worry, I'm not done with you yet.” He popped her lightly across the ass and whispered into her ear, “Up and at ‘em, Lewis. Be a good girl and go bend over that desk for me, would ya?”

Darcy purred and scuttled out of his arms. “I like where your head is at, Sarge,” she said, bending over to rest her elbows against the metal desk and giving him a spectacular view.

He was staring, he knew he was staring, but he just…couldn't...stop.

Darcy slapped her hand impatiently against the desktop to break the spell he was under, shooting him a somewhat desperate look. He jumped to action, tripping over his sleeping bag on his way to her.

He was gonna do this slow, he really was, but as soon as they were joined and he could see how perfectly his hands framed her shapely rear, he lost all thought of control. His hips reared back of their own accord, setting a punishing pace that had them both gasping out curses and groans. His fingers pressed into her hips with bruising force as he pulled her back against him.

He slid one hand up her spine to twine in her hair, pulling her up and turning her head so he could press fumbling kisses over her mouth and cheeks. With her pulled up close to his chest he was able to slide his other hand around, pressing at her hard and fast until she was wailing into his mouth.

God, she felt so goddamn good but he felt like he was about to come out of his skin, like he couldn't get enough of her, would never get enough of her. Some dark place in his brain allowed a tendril of fear to unfurl inside of him, whispering that this might be the last time they were together, that they could both be dead in a few short hours. Fear turned to dread turned to desperation as he sobbed out and fucked her harder into the desk, as if he could bury himself in her so deeply that nothing would ever separate them.

He was vaguely aware of Darcy slumping down to rest on the desktop and his hands coming up to grip her shoulders as leverage, but the change in position had him slipping even deeper into her as he quickened his thrusts, seeking release. The metal feet of the desk began to slide across the carpet under the onslaught of his strength and Darcy gave one long, high pitched sob before convulsing around him again and sending him spiraling out into oblivion with a roar.

He blacked out for a few breaths, returning slowly to the realization that he was slumped on top of Darcy, probably crushing her. He pushed up on the desktop with shaky arms and slowly withdrew from her heat. He stroked a shaking hand down her spine, watching the frantic rise and fall of her labored breathing, trying to shake his lingering haze.

Darcy huffed and muttered a long low groan into the desktop. “Oooww, fuck,” she hissed.

Icy tendrils of fear shot through his stomach at the realization that she was very breakable and he was a goddamn monster. He flipped her gently in his arms and scooped her up to his chest. Her eyes remained closed and it sent another wave of panic through him.

“Oh god, Darcy, are you alright? Fuck, pleasetell me you're alright?”

Darcy's eyes fluttered open and she hit his chest with the back of one hand with more strength than he was expecting. “Bucky, my dude, chill out.”

“But you-- are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

Her eyes slipped closed again, a beatific smile lighting up her face. “Lil bit. Totally fucking worth it though. Fuck. I’m gonna have some pretty bruises in the morning.” Her smile never wavered and he didn't know whether he wanted to shake her or sink to his knees and thank god she was unharmed. He ended up doing a little bit of both before laying her gently across his sleeping bag and checking every inch of her for trauma. He could see the beginnings of bruises along her hips and shoulders and a matching set at the front of her thighs from the edge of the desk. Each new bruise he discovered had him adding tallies to the “Bucky Barnes is a Fucking Abomination” column.

“Hey. Stop that,” Darcy admonished, gripping the fingers that had been stroking over the bruising on her thighs. “I can feel the self-loathing from here.”

“It's well deserved,” he grumbled, fingers twitching in her grasp.

Darcy sighed and rolled her eyes, rising up to a seated position. She tried to suppress the groan of discomfort from sitting, but his sharp eyes and ears caught it anyway. Darcy jerked him out of his self-hatred death spiral by pulling sharply at the hair at the base of his skull.

“Seriously, stop that. You are ruining this for me.” She leaned in, softening her harsh words with tender kisses. “It's just a few bruises, which I've gotten during sex before. And it was exactly what I was craving. I came twice, for godssake. Don’t you think that if I wasn't having a good time I would have told you to stop?”

“I-I guess,” he stuttered. “Are you sure you're alright?”

She smiled softly, pulling him close to nuzzle her nose against his. “Mmmyes. I am great. Get me some food and help me stretch some of this soreness out and I will be fucking perfect.”

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips.

“I love you, too,” she sighed happily. “Now...about that food? Wanna hook a hungry girl up?”

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes before rising to his feet. “Yeah, yeah, princess. I'll go get you something to eat,” he muttered, gathering up some fresh clothes.

“Thank you, peasant. I will think of you fondly in your absence.”

“Gee thanks, doll.”

Darcy winked at him and snuggled back down into his bedding, obviously intent on going back to sleep until sustenance made an appearance. Bucky finished buckling his pants and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, biting back on an amused grin.

“Uh, Darce, you planning on getting cleaned up before going back to sleep? You're kind of a mess…”

“And whose fault is that, hmm?”

“Sorry,” he said around a smug grin.

She threw her head back in unrestrained laughter. “You’re a fucking liar, James Barnes,” she said, rising to her feet and shuffling over to where they'd stacked several gallon jugs of fresh water and set up a makeshift bathing area. Bucky watched as she wet a rag and ran it over her limbs, hissing at the cold. The water glistened prettily on her skin and ran in enticing rivulets between her breasts and over her--

“Bucky. Focus. Go make us something to eat,” she said, snapping her fingers at him. “I'm starving. And if you keep looking at me like that, we’re gonna have to bone again and this awful, cold sponge bath will have been for nothing.”

Bucky drew a deep breath and turned on his heel, set on giving her whatever she wanted. He was back within half an hour with two white paper bags filled with takeout from the closest restaurant he could find that didn't look like a one-way ticket to food poisoning.

Darcy had squealed with delight, pleased that she wouldn't have to endure another freeze dried meal. Bucky had mumbled something about them needing full stomachs before leaving on their mission that night, which was true, but mostly he just wanted to try and atone for the bruises that were starting to darken on her body.

She sat between his legs while she ate, using him as a backrest, still naked as the day she was born. Which was fine by Bucky. Perfectly fine. He took the opportunity to run his hands and mouth over the bruising on her shoulders, pulling her hair up in a bun to keep it out of his way. Darcy hummed and sighed under his attentions, relaxing into the way his hands were steadily kneading at the knots in her back and thighs.

Darcy finished her meal, placing the takeaway carton to the side and slumping back heavily into his chest. She leaned her head back on his shoulder, turning her face to nuzzle into his neck.

“I really am fine, you know.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I just...I got scared, I guess. I lost control and you're so breakable and--” he drew a steadying breath, pulling her tighter into his arms. “I can't lose you,” he whispered into her hair.

“You're worried about tonight.”

It wasn't a question but he nodded against her anyway. “‘S why I, uh, lost it. Couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I'm about to drag you into danger and...I dunno, I just panicked and wanted to… to feel you. Couldn't get close enough to you.” He turned his face away from her, chewing at his lower lip.

Darcy's hand came up, her thumb pulling his lip from his teeth and smoothing over it. “Bucky.” She sighed his name with such tenderness it made him ache inside.

He turned his face back to hers, kissing her deep and slow, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. “I love you and I love you and I love you and I could live another hundred years and that wouldn't change.”

Her eyes fluttered closed and then opened slowly, piercing him with their blue depths. “That was quite the line, James. Gonna give a girl ideas. White dress and suit-and-tie ideas.”

“Wasn't a line. And I don't see anything wrong with those ideas.” He smiled shyly at her, fluttering his lashes at her for good measure.

Darcy's eyes widened slightly, her brows rising. “Oh my stars,” she proclaimed with her best southern belle drawl, hand fluttering dramatically over her chest. “Mr. Barnes, is that a proposal?”

His grin grew wider. “No ma'am. Darcy, sweetheart, trust me when I say this: when I propose to you, there will be no doubt in your mind. You're not the only one with... ideas,” he growled and then nipped at her chin playfully.

“Oh shit,” Darcy muttered, eyes wide in shock and wonder until something like anger passed over her features. She shifted and twisted in his arms to face him, bringing her hands up to pull him down by the ears until they were nose to nose. “We better not fucking die tonight or I am going to be pissed,” she growled and then crashed her mouth to his.

He smiled against her lips, letting the heat of her kiss crash over him in waves. As far as not-quite-proposals went, this one seemed to be fairly well received.

When things started really heating up, he had to grasp her hands and firmly disentangle himself from her clutches. “Darcy, we need to start getting ready,” he warned. He hated having to stop but his daughter needed them and the time to go was nearly upon them.

Bucky watched the heated daze leave her eyes in favor of the clear-headed sharpness of nerves. She swallowed and nodded, rising to her feet to begin dressing herself. Bucky tried to hastily eat his now mostly cold meal but the dread unfurling in his stomach had him struggling to keep even a few bites down. He stopped trying and went about prepping for the night ahead.

***

The next few hours were a blur of arming themselves and checking and rechecking their gear and plans, followed by the long walk to the compound. It was fully dark by the time they reached their crossing place over the fence. They crept towards Darcy’s sniper post, settling down in the shrubbery and waiting for the change in guards, double checking the body count in and around the building.

The air was fairly warm for a spring night, but Darcy was covered in goosebumps despite it. She couldn’t seem to shake the chill, biting down on her lips to muffle the sound of her chattering teeth.

Bucky, who was laying out on his belly, scanning the surroundings with his night vision binoculars, turned at the sound of her teeth and motioned for her to snuggle up next to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to rub warmth into her shivering limbs. “It’s just the nerves. It’ll wear off once your adrenaline hits.” Darcy didn’t respond, just nodded and kept her eyes glued to the compound that was sitting in a clearing about three hundred yards away from their position.

Bucky watched the four guards that were loitering outside of the building’s entrance. The men finished their conversation and moved to split up and begin their patrol along each side of the building.

“It’s almost time,” he whispered to Darcy. He glanced at her, mulling over his next words carefully. “Listen, I know you’re here to watch my back but...I don’t want you to have to bear the burden of taking a man’s life unless you absolutely have to. Taking a life, it-it weighs on you, so you wait until the last second. Don’t fire unless you’re certain I’m in serious danger.”

Darcy’s eyes were wide in the dark, shining out of her ghostly pale face. “I...okay.”

He reached out for her face, fingers sliding through her hair and palms resting against her cheeks. He scooted closer to her, bringing his mouth to hers in a hurried kiss, before resting his forehead to hers. “I love you,” he whispered urgently. “Stay safe, stay hidden, stay vigilant. Don’t let what’s happening to me cause you to lose focus on your surroundings.” He pulled back, looking her dead in the eyes. “If anything happens to me, you get out. You call Steve and Nat immediately and you get the hell out of here, do you understand me?”

Darcy’s eyes darted over his face and her tongue wet her bottom lip before she finally nodded her assent. They both looked a little crazed with the way they were looking at the other, eyes roaming and memorizing faces, hands sweeping across cheeks and shoulders and fingers.

Bucky leaned back into her with one final, fervent kiss. “I have to go.”

Darcy swallowed and found her voice. “I know,” she croaked. “I love you, Bucky Barnes. You better come back to me.”

“I will,” he vowed and then forced himself to leave her embrace, hunching down to creep through the underbrush on swift, silent feet.

It was a good fifty feet to the edge of the treeline to where the land opened up and the compound sat. The building itself wasn’t more than a single story office building, something you’d see somewhere on the outskirts of suburbia; flat roof, square shaped, with large tinted windows placed every few feet. Besides the four guards outside, they had clocked about fifteen to twenty bodies within the building, all of which he would need to dispatch of quickly and quietly to prevent back up being called in.

He kept low to the ground, creeping nearly on his belly the long distance to the closest edge of the building, before sprinting the last thirty feet to rush up behind the guard running patrol on that side. He plunged his knife clear through the man’s spine, severing his vocal chords and brain stem in one go. The man went limp and he lowered the body silently to the ground.

He kept his back to the wall, crouched low to creep beneath the windows, and approached the corner of the building. He peered around the edge, clocking two of the guards leaning against the building, chatting and taking an unwise smoke break with their weapons holstered. Oh well, their stupidity was his stroke of luck and both were dead in seconds. He crept back the way he’d come, heading for the last guard that would be in position at the front entrance.

Who wasn’t there.

Bucky swallowed back on the dread that crowded his gut and crept forward to the front entrance. At that moment the comm in his ear crackled to life. “Bucky! Behi-”

Her frantic whisper was too late as a harsh male voice sounded from behind him. “Stop. Hands in the air and on your knees.”

Fuck. Bucky bit back on his panic, his brain flitting over scenarios and outcomes. The guard was too far for him to disarm and too close for him to make a break for it. He sank to his knees, hands coming up into the air, hoping to buy time with his compliance. He could survive a lot, but probably not a headshot. He’d have to try talking his way out of this, at least until he could overpower the other man.

“Look--”

“Keep your mouth shut. You’ve already killed three agents. I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you want. You’re going to die. Hail Hydra.”

He heard the click as the guard racked the slide of his gun, followed by the creaking of the trigger as he began to pull back on it. Bucky winced, waiting for the inevitable crack of the gun and the significant loss of brain matter that he was about to endure. But it never came. Before the guard could pull the trigger all the way back, there was a muffled pop and then the sound of a body slumping to the ground.

Bucky swiveled his head, confirming that the guard was indeed dead on the ground, shot through the head. He drew in a slow breath through his nose. He hadn't wanted this for Darcy.

“You okay, Bucky?” her voice trembled in his ear. He nodded sharply.

“Fuck, that was awful--” Darcy’s voice was cut off with the sound of retching.

“Darce, you alright?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Her quiet laugh was shaky even through the comms. “Not even a little bit. But I think I’m done being sick. For now.”

“Good. I need you to focus, sweetheart. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I’m-I’m good.”

Bucky took another steadying breath, burying his guilt and dragging the guard’s body to the front entrance. He flipped open the scanner that was installed on the left side of the door, placing the dead man’s hand on top of it and waiting for the blinking red lights to turn green. He pushed the night vision goggles he’d been wearing up onto his forehead. There was a click and a thunk and then he was peeking through the door and slowly creeping inside, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights.

“Alright Darcy, you ready to be my eyes?”

“Yessir.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the lights flickered and blinked out, courtesy of more handy dandy Stark gadgetry. In the distance he could hear surprised voices calling out to one another. He snapped his night vision goggles back into place.

“Buck, you’ve got two bodies coming around the corner to your left. Forty feet and closing.”

He tapped the comm, indicating that he’d heard her and backed against the wall, lying in wait for them to pass him so he could slice through them as cleanly as he had the three men outside.

For the next half hour he was a ghost, slipping through the darkness and adding to the number of dead with every passing minute, with Darcy whispering in his ear the location of his next target.

Halfway through his parade of death, his left hand crushed through the throat of yet another Hydra agent. He ducked into a nearby storage closet awaiting his next order.

“Darce?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Could you maybe not hum in my ear while I’m trying to kill people?”

“Dude, this is stressful as shit and Queen always calms me down. Also, ’Another One Bites the Dust’ is literally the perfect song for your Hydra murder spree.”

“Darcy,” he growled.

“I know. Sorry. Lone body approaching from the right.”

Bucky sighed and rolled out from his hiding spot to continue his work. He lost count of the bodies.

“Darce, where’s my next target,” he hissed after he’d gone several minutes without coming across anyone. Anyone living, anyway.

“Bucky...there’s no one left. You’re the only heat signature that I’m picking up on…”

“No. No that’s not possible. You should see her heat signature somewhere in the building. Remember, it’ll be much smaller. You’ve missed it. Look again. She has to be here.”

Silence reigned for a few minutes and then, “Bucky, I’m not getting anything...”

Fear and rage twisted in his chest. “Get the lights back up.”

“What?”

“Get the lights back up. Now. She’s here, she has to be, and I will search every room until I find her.”

“....Babe, what if...what if Strucker sent out word before they brought him down? What if they moved her somewhere else?”

Bucky slammed his fist into the wall, breaking through the drywall with ease. “NO! I can’t- I can’t accept that! She has to be here!” he shouted, panting heavily. His voice cracked and quieted as he pleaded with her. “Darcy, if she’s not here then I don’t know how I’m supposed to find her, so she’s gotta be here. So just... please, turn the lights back on?”

“Okay, Bucky,” she finally replied. He could hear the unshed tears in her voice.

The lights flickered back to life, showcasing his bloody handiwork, and he began the slow process of sweeping every single room in that whole damn building, but finding nothing. As panic and despair started to grip him tightly, he began pacing back and forth down the long main hallway that lead from the font of the building to the very back where a giant mural of the Hydra symbol hung proudly on the wall. His brain tilted and whirled through possibilities as he continued his mad pacing, ending each lap with that stupid fucking skull and tentacles staring down mockingly at him.

He paced down the hallway one last time, damn near running, and in a fit of rage he launched his metal fist through that horrid thing, crushing through the tile and straight through the drywall behind it. He reared back, pummeling his fist into the mural over and over, slowly bludgeoning a hole as big as his waist into it and the wall behind.

Until he noticed something strange.

He leaned in, peering closer at the hole he’d created and what lay behind it.

A door. It was a fucking door.

Triumph swept through him as he called out to Darcy in the comms. “Babe, I think I’ve found her!’

“Wait what? I’m not picking up on anything but you still.”

“I found a hidden door.” His victorious grin was making his cheeks hurt, but he didn’t give a damn. He started ripping away the mural in earnest.

“A hidden door? Seriously? Hydra are all a bunch of flipping drama queens. But that still doesn’t explain why I can’t get a read on anyone.”

“Best guess is Mylar foil insulation,” he muttered as he crawled through the space he'd created to get a closer look at the steel door. He noted a panel installed next to the door and flipped it open, quickly confirming it was a handprint scanner. He turned back to the wall he'd created, spotting another panel that was likely used to lower and raise that section of wall. He didn't have the patience to fiddle with it so he crawled back through the hole in the wall and began stomping back down the hallway in search of the body of one of the higher ranking agents in the facility.

“Bucky! Are you even listening to me?” Darcy's voice sounded shrill in his ear.

“Uh, no sorry,” he said, not really paying attention as he'd found the body he was looking for and began dragging it back to the wall.

“I asked what in the hell you were doing?”

Bucky blinked rapidly. “What do you think I'm doing? I'm getting in that door.”

“What?!”

Bucky jerked and winced, pulling the comm from his ears slightly. “Jesus, Darce, you trying to deafen me?” He pushed the comm back in when he was sure she wasn't going to shriek at him again. “What do you mean, ‘what?’ She's behind that door, so I'm gonna get that goddamn door open.” He grunted and shifted himself and the body he was dragging through the wall, letting it slump to the floor.

“But-but... no. Bucky, I can't see because of that tin foil shit, how am I supposed to warn you?! What if there's fifty men hiding behind that door? We don't even know where it goes to, it's not in the fucking schematics! No! Just no. We’ll come back with reinforcements. I can't let you go in there blind. You need to get your ass out of there now.”

“I'm not leaving without her. If we leave, if we wait for reinforcements, it'll be too late. The next shift of guards will show up and they’ll move her.” His voice was low and he tried to keep his tone patient.

“If she's even still here…Get out of there. Now. I can't let you--”

Bucky growled, his temper flaring at her words. “Let me? Let me? I didn't realize that I was yours to command now. She is here! I know she's here! And I'm going to get her, with or without your permission, komandir.” With the last flare of his temper he slammed the palm of the dead agent down onto the panel. There was a high pitched buzz and then the locks on the door unbolted and he turned the handle, nearly wrenching it off in his rage.

“Bucky,” Darcy sobbed in his ear and he paused, instant regret souring his gut. “Bucky, I'm sorry. I-I-I didn't mean it like that, I'm so sorry, I would never try to-to control you...I'm just so scared-” She cut off with a rather miserable sniffle and Bucky felt even more like a heel.

“I'm sorry too, I know...I know you wouldn't try to...I know. And I know you're scared. But I have to do this, sweetheart. I can't leave without my little girl. Can't you understand that?” His fingers tightened on the handle as he waited for her snuffling to subside.

“...I understand. I just… be careful. I love you. Please, be careful, Bucky. And keep sending me updates or I might lose my goddamn mind waiting out here.”

“I will when I can. I love you too.” He pushed the door open fully, peering past to see a flight of stairs leading down into the ground. He relayed the information to Darcy.

“A secret basement and/or dungeon. That's great. Just great,” Darcy grumbled in his ear.

“Yep. Definitely not in the schematics either. Which makes sense in a way. Strucker probably had to have the plans on file. Wouldn't want the higher ups to know about his sick little side venture.” He stepped on to the first step with a heavy boot, swallowing back the bitterness in his throat.

“Fucking Hydra.”

“You're telling me,” he mumbled absentmindedly, carefully making his way down the steps with gun drawn and hackles raised. “Hey Darce, you wanna give me some darkness? If you can't tell me where they're coming from, at least I'll be able to see anyone before they can see me.”

“On it.”

The lights lining the wall flickered out and he lowered his night vision goggles back over his eyes before proceeding down the steel steps that spiraled straight down from the upper landing. It made him nervous, not being able to see what was around each curve of the stairwell. He stepped lightly, hoping to muffle the sound of his boots, and kept his breathing shallow in order to better hear an enemy approaching.

“Hey babe, remember when I said keep me updated? Yeah you've been quiet too long and I'm slightly panicking. So if you're being quiet to stay hidden, tap the comm once for yes. If you're actually dead and your body is lying broken in the super secret stairwell, then tap twice for no.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but lifted his free hand to tap once at his comm. “Oh thank god,” Darcy gushed quietly in his ear. “Let's keep this yes/no system in place when you have to keep quiet, okay?”

He reached up and tapped once, again. “Okay awesome. This is a great system. I am a tactical genius.” She was quiet a long moment and then, “Soooo, you wearing any underwear under your tac pants?”

Bucky paused on the stairs, frozen in bewilderment. He exhaled quietly through his nose and shook his head. He should have known that this woman would always defy expectation and spit on appropriate black ops behavior. He shook his head a second time and began moving down the steps again. He lifted a hand to tap twice at his ear, a smirk on his lips.

“Fucking knew it,” she muttered.

Bucky didn't respond. He was a bit distracted, having finally gotten to the bottom of the staircase to be met by yet another door, though this one was wooden and looked like a run of the mill front door from any suburban home in the continental U.S. Knocker and peephole, included.

As there was obviously no one in the staircase with him now, he quietly relayed his discovery to Darcy before he began running his hands along the edge of the door and along the walls on either side, searching for a security panel of some kind, but finding none. He ran his left palm over the surface of the door to sense any discrepancies in the vibrations of the material against his hand but again found none. It was just...a door. A plain, unassuming front door. He palmed the door knob.

The damn thing wasn't even locked.

He took a slow, deep breath through his nose to brace himself and then turned the knob fully and pushed the door open a scant few inches. When nothing exploded, he stooped low and peered in through the crack he made, then pushed the door open a few more inches. Bit by bit, he opened the door on silent hinges until he was able to squeeze through. He found himself crouching through a foyer that opened up into a living area to his right and a kitchen to his left.

It was all very domestic, like he'd stepped into someone's home instead of into the bowels of a Nazi science facility. Bucky swept through the kitchen silently, assuring himself it was empty before moving on to the living room. His free hand brushed over a hand knitted shawl that lay across the back of the sofa, thrown casually by whoever it was that lived there.

He froze and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his ears picked up on a soft sound that carried down the hall that was attached to one end of the living room. He drew his weapon up with both hands and crept down the hall, his back to the wall and his pace steady.

“Your breathing kicked up, you find something?"

He reached up to tap at his comm once and then returned his concentration to the rhythmic sounds emanating from the last doorway at the end of the hall. He moved closer, pausing at the threshold and leaning the slightest bit in to peek inside.

It was a bedroom, small and plain, with a queen sized bed tucked in one corner opposite a small dresser and a rocking chair in another corner. A rocking chair which was currently occupied and had been the source of the noises he'd heard.

Sitting in the chair was what appeared to be an unarmed woman. It must have been pitch black for her, sitting in the cave darkness of an underground fortress, but for Bucky she was cast in the greenish glow of his goggles and it gave her a sickly look. She couldn't have been more than forty, and had rather severe looking cheekbones, made all the more harsh by the apprehensive twist of her mouth. Though her features were sharp and her figure slender, it was obvious to Bucky that she'd seen no combat training of any kind. Her hands were too soft and she sat too loosely in her chair to be confused for a soldier.

He was still wary of this unknown woman, but he lowered his gun slightly and stepped closer. Before he could make his presence known, he was met with the guttural syllables of the Sokovian tongue.

“Who is there?” the woman asked. Well, he was fairly sure that's what she asked. His Sokovian could still use some work. He remained quiet, inching closer to the woman, who in turn stopped her rocking and reached a hand out into the darkness. “Who’s there?” she asked again, though this time in Russian.

Something about the harsh tongue of his old masters rankled him and prompted his reply. “A ghost,” he ground out in Russian.

The woman inhaled sharply, her eyes snapping to the direction of his voice, searching blindly for him. “Soldat,” she muttered under her breath, the syllables filled with fear.

“Da.”

“You are the father, then? You've come for the girl?” Her voice had lost some of its tremble and he witnessed a strange steeliness enter her eyes.

“Da,” he growled with every bit of menace he possessed. He was shocked when his pronouncement was met not with fear, but a glowing smile from the strange woman.

“Oh thank god. I'd given up hope that you would come.”

What the hell?

Bucky paused, not sure how to respond or even how to process her response. “Excuse me? Is this supposed to be a trap?” He stretched his senses back out, listening for any oncoming attack he could have been distracted from.

“No, no!” Her eyes went even wider in the dark, hands splayed in front of her and waving in his general direction. “I'm trying to help her. To save her from this place. Didn't you get the files I sent?”

His brow furrowed in confusion and then, “Wait, that was you? You sent that USB to the Sokovian authorities?”

A triumphant smile spread over her thin lips. “Yes! I did.” Her smiled faded somewhat and her tone slipped into something that would suit a school marm. “Why did you not come sooner, Soldat? I sent that envelope months ago, and at grave personal risk. Do you think so little of your child's life that you would fritter away her days, leaving her to wait in a state of constant danger?”

Bucky spluttered and searched for words, but found nothing coming out of his mouth except for a demand that Darcy turn the lights back on so he could give this woman a proper dressing down for assuming he'd ever leave his kid in danger like she was suggesting.

“Bucky, you wanna tell me who you've been chatting with before I go and blow your last bit of security?”

“A-a-a woman! Some strange woman who claims she is the one that got us the intel on this place and my kid.”

“Anonymous helpful USB sender? I don't buy it. Sounds shady as shit.”

“I agree...but she is either a very good liar or I've lost my touch at being able to read microexpressions. I...I think she might be telling the truth.”

A sigh came from his comm and then Darcy replied, “Lights on in 3, 2, 1.”

Bucky pushed the goggles up his forehead before he could be blinded by the lights flickering back on. He watched the woman as she blinked furiously, trying to adjust her eyes to the now fully lit bedroom. When her eyes finally landed on him, she gave a slight gasp. He would have missed it if his hearing wasn't so damn good.

“What? What is it?"

She shook her head, an enigmatic smile tilting her lips. “It's nothing. You will see for yourself soon enough…” she trailed off, then tilted her head and gazed at him with thoughtful brown eyes. “You must have many questions for me. I can see the curiosity in your eyes. Your daughter gets the same look. Though hers lacks the suspicion that yours holds.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat before the first question he could think of pushed forward. “Are you….the mother?”

She gave a short, bitter bark of laughter. “No. I am not. I don't think that poor girl lived much past the umbilical cord being cut. She had fulfilled her duty as incubator.”

“Who was she?”

The woman shrugged. “A desperate woman. Desperate enough to agree to whatever Strucker told her he was doing.”

“Who are you, then? Are you allied with Hydra? Why did you send that intel?”

“I am no one. Not anymore. And no, I am not allied with that Nazi scum. I am as much a prisoner as your daughter is. I sent that information because I love that little girl and I couldn't bear to let that monster harm her as he planned.”

“Where is she?” His voice trembled and his hand tightened on his gun.

The woman gestured with her head. “Next door. Sleeping in her bed. Would you like to see her?”

Something seized up in his chest and he shook his head sharply. “No. No, not yet. I don't trust you. I need some more precise answers about who you are and what the hell you’re doing here.”

The woman sighed. “Very well. Sit down, Soldat. It is not a very nice story that you are about to hear.”

He eyed her warily and then took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He watched as she drew a slow breath, her eyes focusing on her hands that she held tightly clasped in her lap.

“My name is Irina and, in short, I am here to serve as a wet nurse and a caretaker to your daughter. Strucker had it in his head that a well-balanced, healthy child should be breastfed and cared for by an experienced mother, though not by the actual mother of the child. Biological mothers tend to rebel when you take their child from them when the child is old enough to begin their Hydra indoctrination.” She glanced at him with a wry twist to her mouth.

Cold dread filled his stomach when he voiced his next question. “You said ‘experienced mother’...where are your children?”

“I imagine they are with their father, in whatever shallow grave Strucker decided to put them in. I had three of them. A girl and then two boys. 15, 7, and the youngest was younger than your daughter is now when Strucker and his men came into my home and murdered my loves.” Her eyes were red rimmed, but she met his gaze with unwavering strength.

It felt like the breath had been knocked from him and all he could do was ask, “Why?”

She shrugged. “I met his qualifications as a mother and wet nurse. We lived in the mountains, alone. We could go weeks without seeing another family. It made it easy for him to make me disappear without kicking up a fuss.” She grew quiet, eyes focusing back to her hands that twisted in her lap. “Or perhaps it was punishment. I went to university before I married my husband. Was a learned woman, majored in computer engineering. Joined an anti-Hydra organization. Participated in protests and wrote scathing articles.” She shrugged again, her shoulders slumping and her upper body curving in on itself. “It certainly felt like they were punishing me.”

“Jesus,” he breathed, stomach roiling.

Irina gave a wan smile and nodded. “Awful, isn't it? They stormed into my home, ripped my child from my arms, made me watch as they executed my family, then beat me to unconsciousness. When I awoke I was...here.” She gestured at the room around her. “I was here and Strucker was spouting off about how I was about to help mold the next Fist of Hydra or some such nonsense. I was still very disoriented at the time, what with the slight concussion and having just watched my family die, so I didn't quite pick up on what he was telling me. Not until he ordered one of his goons to bring your daughter into the room and then it clicked for me what he intended when he left me alive.” Her eyes turned hard and she pinned Bucky under the force of her glare.

“They wanted to replace my child with theirs. They expected me to nurse and care for their Hydra progeny and I was furious! How dare they? How dare that awful man try to foist off his infant on me? Did my son mean so little to this world that his death was conscionable? What made the babe in his arms so goddamn important that my son's life meant nothing in comparison?” She was shouting by the end and Bucky winced under her hardened gaze but stayed quiet.

She gave him a measured look and took a slow breath, calming herself before continuing. “Those were my thoughts, that was my rage when they brought her in. In my anger, I decided that I would kill the babe, as soon as they handed her to me. I'd learned first hand that it takes very little effort to break the neck of an infant, and your daughter couldn't have been more than a few days old at that point. So very fragile.” She held up a hand, stopping Bucky from responding. “Soldat, calm yourself. Your daughter is alive and well. If I had killed her, I would surely have died within moments of her.”

“You changed your mind?”

“Yes, of course I did. I had never felt such rage as I did that day, but I am not a murderer. I am a mother. When they pressed her into my arms, I told myself that I was going to do it. I reached for her neck and she was so soft. And then she woke, squalling and red and angry, and I knew that cry. She was hungry. She was just a hungry baby that wanted to eat. It wasn't her fault that she'd somehow ended up in the hands of Hydra. It wasn't her fault my family was dead. She wailed like a little lamb in my arms and all I wanted to do was nurse her. I had already gone so long without nursing my own child, it was a relief to feed her. It calmed us both, though I admit I cried the whole time.”

The woman was beginning to cry again now, Bucky noted. Silent tears slipped down her face and another wave of guilt rose and crested inside him. More people, more children, murdered because of him.

“Bucky?” Darcy's voice cut softly through the haze of guilt. “You okay? Your breathing is going all...ragged.”

He sniffed and wiped his nose. “Yeah, ‘m alright, sweetheart. Irina, um, the woman, she's been raising my kid. Strucker murdered her family and brought her here to care for my girl.”

“Oh shit, that's… that's…”

“Yeah.”

“I don't feel so bad about shooting that guy now.”

Bucky snorted and jerked his head in agreement. He could burn all of Hydra to the ground and not feel a single lick of guilt about it.

“Who are you speaking to?” the woman asked, tucking her legs up into her chair and rubbing her hands over her arms.

“My...partner.”

She raised a brow. “Do you always speak to your partner with such a tender voice?”

Bucky ducked his head, not quite sure why he was blushing. “Um, she's also my...um, we’re together.”

“Do you love each other?” she asked bluntly. It took him off guard but he nodded sharply.

“Good. I would not want to hand her over to a man incapable of love. The guards here said you were no longer under the thumb of Hydra. That you'd broken programming and gone running back to Captain America. I had hopes that that was a better indication of who you are as a man than your time as the Winter Soldier.” She smiled softly at him for a moment until some thought occurred to her and her expression soured. “Though I am rather upset that you took so long to retrieve her.” Her arms crossed over her chest and her head tilted to the side, silently demanding an explanation.

Bucky lifted a placating hand and hastily explained the series of events that led him to receiving the info she'd sent.

“Those useless, dog-faced idiots! I should have known the Sokovian police would just toss it aside without even looking at it. Fucking bastards.” She devolved into a long string of Sokovian insults that Bucky couldn't quite follow. “It was my intent for the police to immediately shut down Strucker’s facility there and then attempt to contact you and the Avengers about this compound and your child.”

“Well, apparently, Hydra had gotten wind of the unauthorized shit Strucker was up to and decided to use him as a diversion for the Avengers so Hydra could make a play for me. It was pure luck that the Sokovian police even remembered the file you sent and handed it over to Steve. In any case, I did come as soon as I could. Woulda come sooner but my teammates convinced me that babies don't like sneaking out of the country strapped to the bottom of cargo trucks.”

The woman gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Ah, no, they typically do not care for that.” She paused and then asked, “Are you ready to see her?”

He swallowed back on the lump in his throat and nodded, rising slowly to his feet. He holstered his gun at his side while the woman unfolded herself from her rocking chair. She was taller than he was expecting, almost as tall as he was, and her dark hair was pulled back into a long braid. She beckoned him to follow her and padded on bare feet down the hall back towards the living area, stopping at a closed door to his right. Irina reached out to turn the knob, pushing the door open and stepping back for him to pass through.

“She's a good sleeper, your little girl. If you want to touch her, it's unlikely that you’ll disturb her,” she whispered.

Fear and excitement fought for dominance somewhere in his chest as he paused at the threshold, eyes locked on the woman. Her smile was gentle as she shooed him into the room.

“I'll give you some privacy, if you like? I can go make some tea or something?”

Bucky nodded absentmindedly but his hand shot out to grip her firmly by her upper arm as she turned to go. He leaned in close to her. “Stay in the kitchen. Don't even think about leaving this apartment.”

She smiled sadly. “And where exactly would I go? I mean you no harm, Soldat. I will stay in the kitchen,” she reassured him. He released her, watching her retreating back until she'd turned the corner and even then he listened for her to start rummaging around in the kitchen before turning to his daughter’s bedroom.

The room was dark save for some kind of fancy night light that played a swirl of constellations across the ceiling. It was rather pretty, as was the rest of the room, decorated in soft blues and purples and it seemed such an odd thing to find in a Hydra compound. He wondered briefly if there was some evil Hydra interior decorator somewhere in the world. One with expensive taste, too. Even from this distance he could tell that the wooden crib nestled into one corner of the room was hand carved from expensive lumber.

He crept a single step closer to the bed and then froze. “Darcy,” he whispered urgently. “She's here...I’m in her nursery.”

“Where's Irina?”

“In the kitchen. Giving me a moment.”

“....And? What's baby Barnes like??”

“I don't know. I'm trying to talk myself up to walking over to her crib.”

“You can do it, babe. I’m right here with you….well, you know, mentally, emotionally.”

He huffed a quiet chuckle. “I know, Darce.” He gave himself two more seconds of hesitation before forcing his feet forward. He crept closer and closer to the crib until he was standing against it, peering down at the sleeping form of his infant daughter.

“Bucky?”

“Oh god, Darce,” his voice cracked and trembled, “she's beautiful.” He reached forward with his flesh hand, tremors running along it, and ran his index finger lightly over the curve of her cheek. Her skin was impossibly soft against the calloused pad of his finger. Warm and soft and so perfect.

The little girl burbled in her sleep and turned towards the heat of his hand. He cupped her chubby little cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing over the dimple in her chin. Same as his.

He withdrew his hand slowly from her face, briefly running his fingers through the ash blonde curls she must have inherited from her mother, because Lord knew all the Barneses were dark haired hellions with a penchant for trouble. She might still have inherited the hellion bit, but the blonde hair certainly gave her an angelic look.

He backed away from the crib and out into the hallway quickly, shutting the bedroom door quietly and sliding down to the floor. He buried his face in his hands as relief and joy flooded through him, pushing tears to spill from his eyes and quiet sobs to shake his chest.

“Darcy, she's perfect. And-and whole and she looks like my sister a little bit and she's--” he broke off with a choked sob and could hear similar sounds coming from his comm. He rubbed his palms into his eyes. “Darcy I love her and I have to keep her, pleasewe gotta keep her.”

“Of course, Bucky. Of course we're keeping her.” He could hear the smile in her voice and it warmed him. “Get our girl, Bucky. It's time to go home.”

He smiled through his tears, his cheeks aching with the joy of it. “Yeah. It is.”