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The chilly November air brushed against (Y/N)'s skin and left her body with a shudder. The skies were grey and murky with the sun nowhere to be found, making the camp much gloomier than it already was. Fog covered parts of the forest that isolated them from the outside world, just as it was intended.

Steve, in his newly tall and broad glory, was standing in the middle of a built-in stage as he stared at the soldiers huddled up together. Some were sat in the benches, others were on top of the trucks and the ones in the back rested comfortably against the tanks. All of them were in silence as the show continued further along, no one sharing a single amount of enthusiasm.

"How many of you are ready to help me sock old Adolf on the jaw?" Steve spoke up against the microphone.

Silence followed his question, and (Y/N) couldn't help but wince from the wings of the stage. Steve had been doing shows all over the country as this huge 'American hero' called Captain America to sell bonds, just like Senator Brandt had intended. His shows mostly caught the attention of a younger audience, which was not the case for this one and it was quite visible. He sold pictures, posters, and even comics.

Since (Y/N) had been moved to London for her job, she hadn't been able to assist or even support her friend in person until now, and she figured they'd have a lot of catching up to do.

"Okay," he tried to keep it cool. "Uh. . .I need a volunteer."

"I already volunteered! How do you think I got here?" one man in the audience yelled out.

Laughter followed his words, and another took the opportunity to say something too. "Bring back the girls!"

Cheers erupted in the audience, which made Steve falter even further on his words. He turned back to the wings of the stage to check if the request was possible, staggering between facing the group and the backstage.

"I think they only know the one song, but, um — I'll see what I can do."

"You do that, sweetheart."

"Nice boots, Tinker Bell!" Hodge took the opportunity to jab at him.

(Y/N) couldn't help but roll her eyes at the insult.

Steve still managed to keep his cool. "Come on, guys, we're all on the same team here."

"Hey, Captain," another soldier caught his attention, his back facing him and with his hands gripping onto his pants. "Sign this!"

The man pulled down his pants before pulling them back up and sitting back down, but the obnoxious laughter that followed after that was loud enough to cause a migraine. After that, one soldier threw a tomato in Steve's direction, who managed to block it with the small metal shield he had as a prop. Two more did the same action, more cheers erupting from the crowd as they did so.

"Bring back the girls!"

Steve ran toward the backstage as the dancers rushed in to fill his place. They were wearing the typical red, white and blue but in mini skirts and glamorous makeup. The men in the audience cheered as they covered the stage, meanwhile Steve had his head hanged low as he made his way to the back.

"Don't worry, pal. They'll warm up to you. Don't worry," the manager tried to reassure.

Steve ignored him and walked down the steps of the stage, urging to get rid of the mask that was covering his face and he placed the shield to the side. (Y/N) followed after him, pulling her jacket much closer to her body after she heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

"Hey, you," she called his attention.

"Hi," Steve snapped his head at the sound of her voice, lifting his head from his sketch book. "What are you doing here?"

"Officially, I'm not here at all," she responded. "Lovely performance you gave out there."

"Yeah," he said not-so enthusiastically. "I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I'm used to are usually more, uh, twelve."

"From what I've heard, you're  'America's New Hope'," (Y/N) said with a hint of amusement. "Just wait until I tell Bucky about this."

"Speaking of him," Steve's tone turned much more solemn and worried. "Have you heard from him?"

(Y/N) smacked her lips together. "Not as much as before. He hasn't returned the last letter I sent."

"Do you think something's wrong?"

"I hope not."

(Y/N)'s eyes trailed to the drawing on Steve's notebook, and the one that caught her eye was the one of a dancing monkey on a unicycle. Her hardened expression softened at the sight of the drawing, knowing what it represented.

"You were meant for more than this, you know," she comforted him. At the sound of Steve's lips smacking together, she frowned. "What?"

"You know for the longest time, I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines, serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted and I'm wearing tights."

The sound of heels clicking against the wood made them both stop, and (Y/N) was able to see how Peggy approached them on the back of the stage with her hair soaked and a coat over her shoulders.

"Thought I'd find you here," she said, not specifying to who she was referring to. Then, her eyes fell on Steve. "That was quite a performance."

Steve's cheeks turned into pink hues, and (Y/N) smirked at that. "It was a tough crowd."

A car honk drew the attention of the three, making them snap their heads in the direction of the noise. The camp's ambulance parked right outside the infirmary tent, and several soldiers rushed out to open the back doors to assist the unconscious soldier in the cot.

"They look like they've been through hell."

"These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano," Peggy responded to Steve's words. "Two hundred men went up against him, and less than 50 returned."

"Your audience contained what was left of the 107th," she explained continually. "The rest were killed or captured."

The name or number of the squad was new knowledge to (Y/N). Steve, at the sound of the familiar number, snapped his head in her direction and the two locked eyes, sharing a terrified look as if their worst nightmare had come true.

"The 107th?"

"Why didn't I knew about this?"

"What?"

With panic, Steve took the lead as he ran through the pouring rain in search for a specific person's tent. By the time the three reached Colonel Phillips's tent, their coats were soaked and chills covered (Y/N)'s body from head to toe.

"Colonel Phillips," Steve desperately marched up to the man's desk.

"Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan," Colonel Phillips snarked back, still sat behind his desk with a pen in hand. "What's your plan today?"

"I need the causality list from Azzano."

"You don't get to give me orders, son."

"I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th."

Colonel Phillips's eyes focused on Peggy, pointing toward her with his pen. "You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy."

"Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R — "

"I can spell."

The older man stayed silent for a second before standing up from the chair. He had a pile of letters in his hand, "I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry."

(Y/N) felt her heart stop in her chest. Peggy placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder, knowing how hard the news hit by just seeing the look on her face.

"What about the others?" Steve forced himself to speak. "Are you planning a rescue mission?"

"Yeah, it's called 'winning the war'."

"But if you know where they are, why not at least — "

"They're 30 miles behind the lines through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe," Colonel Phillips pointed toward the map. "We'd lose more men than we'd save. But I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl."

"I think I understand just fine."

"Well, then understand it somewhere else," Colonel Phillips snapped. "If I read the posters correctly, you got someplace to be in 30 minutes."

(Y/N) noticed the way Steve stared at the map on the wall longer than usual. "Yes, sir. I do."

Steve stormed off the tent, leaving Peggy and (Y/N) with the Colonel. (Y/N) knew what Steve was planning to do once he walked away, whether it seemed impossible to do so or not. Without exchanging any words, Peggy and (Y/N) shared a look with a common thought in mind.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking?" (Y/N) asked in a lower volume at the woman.

Before Peggy was able to respond, Colonel Phillips cut in without looking up from the maps he was staring at.

"If you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself."

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Peggy and (Y/N) rushed over to Steve's tent/dressing room, just in time to find him stash clothing into a duffel bag. He had grabbed a coat in the midst of his urgency, knowing he didn't have time to change out of the red, white and blue suit he had on.

"Steven Grant Rogers, you're not planning to walk to Austria, are you?" (Y/N) announced her presence without a warning.

"If that's what it takes."

"You heard the Colonel," Peggy reasoned with him. "Your friend is most likely dead."

"You don't know that."

"Even so, he's devising a strategy," she continued, "If he detects — "

Steve raised his voice a tone higher than hers, as he placed the brown leather jacket over his shoulders. "By the time he's done that, it could be too late."

With that, he walked out of the tent, passing them by on the way out. (Y/N) shook her head but trailed after him, knowing that once he was convinced  she wouldn't change his mind, but at least trying to make sure he went into the range of fire with a clear and reasonable head.

Steve placed his bag on the back of a truck and paused to look back at (Y/N). "He'd do the same thing for us."

(Y/N)'s gaze softened. "I know."

"Then you know I need to go."

"If it was up to me, I'd be screaming at you to do so," she told him. "But you and I both know it's a lot more complicated than that."

This made him halt, thinking his next words through. The rain had finally stopped pouring, yet his coat and (Y/N)'s were still drenched from head to toe.

"You told me I was meant for more than this," he continued. "Did you mean that?"

"From the moment I first met you."

Steve turned his gaze to the ground before moving toward the steering wheel. "Then you gotta let me do this."

The gears inside Peggy's head clicked with a much better solution, and before Steve was able to close the door of the truck, she stepped in.

"At least let us help," she spoke up. "Someone might be able to give you a lift."

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And that someone was none other than Howard Stark, piloting his own private jet into enemy territory. The sky was now dark, allowing them to blend in the clouds and attempt to not draw attention.

"The Hydra camp is in Krausberg, tucked between these two mountain ranges," Peggy explained as she pointed to each location on a map placed on her lap. "It's a factory of some kind."

"We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep," Howard spoke from the cockpit.

"Just get me as close as you can," Steve yelled back at him. "You know, you three are gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land."

"And you won't?"

"Where I'm going, if anybody yells at me, I can just shoot them."

"They will undoubtedly shoot back."

"Well, let's hope it's good for something," he said, referring to the shield resting behind him.

"Agent Dewitt?" (Y/N) turned her head at the sound of her name being called by Howard. "If we're not in too much of a hurry, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue."

(Y/N) resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the man. "Focus on the task at hand, Stark. Then focus on your late-night activities."

"Stark is the best civilian pilot I've ever seen. He's mad enough to brave this airspace. We're lucky to have him."

"So, are you two — " Steve didn't pay any mind to her words and instead was fixated on his friend's interaction with the billionaire. "Do you. . .fondue?"

(Y/N) cleared her throat at the awkwardness. "This is your transponder. Activate it when you're ready and the signal will lead us straight to you."

Steve took the device from her hands. "Are you sure this thing works?"

"It's been tested more than you, pal."

Suddenly, gunfire blasted outside in midair, making the aircraft jolt and shake from side to side, causing turbulence. The enemies had spotted their position, which was no good news in any way. (Y/N) grabbed onto the leather seat to get some sort of grip on something, though Steve did the complete opposite and made his way to the door.

"Get back here! We're taking you all the way in!" Peggy yelled at him as he opened the door and a gust of air stormed in.

"As soon as I'm clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!"

"You can't give me orders!"

"The hell I can't!" he smirked. "I'm a Captain!"

He placed his goggles and jumped out of the aircraft, right in the middle of the line of fire. (Y/N) could see from where she sat how he was successfully able to open his parachute and descend toward the woods. Please, make them both come back in one piece, she thought.

"Stark!" Peggy was the one to call out for the pilot, and he did as he was told. The aircraft did a full turn and was directed in the opposite direction it was flying in.

(Y/N) was the one to close the hatch, making the strong gust of wind to disappear just as it was secured. She had a lump in her throat and her heart was beating against her chest, so she did her best to calm herself down.

"The offer is still on, Dewitt — "

"Just take us back to base, Stark."