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Most people describe grief as a deep sorrow or a feeling of anguish, but (Y/N) could say she didn't agree with that. Nobody ever says that grief is all-time consuming, this constantly being knocked down by waves that drown you and you don't know if you're strong enough to overcome them. You feel your heart stop beating, not worth still being alive when the heart of your loved one came to a complete halt. The memory of when Steve returned from the raid was blurry, but it was a sight that some agents will be able to remember because of how crude it was.

They saw a respected agent and coworker, known for her impeccable personality and professional attitude completely crumble down when Steve said the words 'he's gone' to her. He was entirely destroyed too, but he tried to keep a hard expression and didn't want to look when Peggy reached out and embraced (Y/N) in a hug. It was the first time they saw America's hope be something else than patriotic and heroic. Colonel Phillips, known to all as a stoic man who had no compassion for anyone else's feelings, didn't dare to interrupt and instead brushed all the curious eyes away with a harmless threat.

Steve wasn't strong enough to maintain a strong facade in front of her and left the room with red brimming his eyes. Peggy pulled (Y/N) to the nearest chair and rubbed a hand up and down her back. She snapped her fingers at a close agent to bring her a cup of water to hydrate her while whispering reassurances to her friend. (Y/N) felt overwhelmed by the attention she was receiving, her face growing hot by the burning gazes at the back of her head.

(Y/N) stood up from the chair, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I need to find Steve."

With her arms wrapped around her figure, she strolled through the hallway of the facility. Peggy returned with the cup of water, but she quickly dismissed her with a hand. The look behind the brunette's eyes was understanding, so she placed the cup in a nearby table if she wanted to grab it afterwards. There were a few agents scattered doing their own tasks, but once they caught her eye searching for someone in particular, one pointed toward the farthest door in the hall. (Y/N) thanked them with a look, making her way to the door with urgency in her steps.

She opened the door slowly, trying not to alarm him. The door's creak alerted him and he removed his head from his hands in a quick movement to see who it was. When Steve realized it was her, his shoulders sagged and he didn't even try to pretend he wasn't crying. His eyes were red and he sniffed a few times to compose himself, and (Y/N) was sure she probably looked the same or even worse.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

(Y/N)'s heart dropped at hearing the crack in his voice. She approached and sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He didn't care that his tears were staining his uniform, and now, due to their closeness, (Y/N)'s too. She leaned her head on his shoulder, relaxing against him.

"It's not your fault."

"Yeah, it is," he didn't lift his head to look at her. "I should've — I should've reached out to him."

"We both knew he was going to pull that stunt whether you were there or not," she told him. "So don't beat yourself up over it."

"He made a choice. We just need to learn how to deal with it."

Steve stayed silent for a long minute. "I'm not gonna stop until all of Hydra is dead or captured."

"And I'll be on your side when that happens."

The sound of Peggy's heels clicking against the hardwood floor made her look up. She hadn't realized that she left the door halfway open, so neither of them had heard the loud creak. Her red lips were pressed into a thin line, embarrassed to have walked in on a private conversation.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Colonel Phillips is requesting your presence in the interrogation room," she spoke in a calm tone.

"Interrogation room?" Steve straightened his posture and frowned. "What for?"

(Y/N) lifted her head from Steve's shoulder and wiped the tears from her eyes, knowing what this meant. "Thank you, Carter, I'll be right there."

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Inside the interrogation room, Colonel Phillips sat across the table from a restrained Arnim Zola, who was captured in the last raid. There were no other people in the room, other than the agents keeping eye on the conversation from the other side of the double-sided mirror. Silence had filled the room for the last 5 minutes, which consisted in the Colonel eating the meal in his tray after trying to pry the doctor of speaking.

The door inside of the room opened, revealing (Y/N) on the other side of it. Her eyes were hardened and the rest of her expression was emotionless. She had to remain stoic for this interrogation, even if she wanted to do the complete opposite.

"Ah, there she is," Colonel Phillips leaned back on his chair and reached out for a napkin. With the corner of it, he wiped the grease off his mouth and stood up from the table.

"I'll leave you with the non-speaker, Agent Dewitt," he said as he grabbed the tray and headed toward the opened door.

(Y/N) could only nod in response and the sound of the steel door closing in echoed throughout the room. Her eyes remained on Zola as she made her way to the empty chair, not wanting to leave him out of her sight.

"Ma'am," Zola greeted with a curt nod, but then, his tone changed. "Lost something today?"

She had to resist with every fiber in her body the urge to not grab him by the collar and slap him. Not only did he have the fault of Bucky's death, but he had the audacity to mock her about it. (Y/N) knew better than to give him a reaction, so she flashed a fake grin and leaned her elbows on the cold, metal table.

"I sent a group of men down there," she confessed. "When they came back, they said he was gone. There was no. . .body. I'm not a fool that doesn't know that without a body you can't confirm a kill. He deserves a funeral, at least. I deserve it."

"Is that right?"

All right, she thought, two can play that game. It's like he was asking to get slapped.

"Let me tell you, Zola," she leaned even closer on the table, locking her eyes firmly with his cold ones. "If you did something to him, anything at all, I'll ruin your life without making a country bat an eye at me."

That made him pause his confident act. He didn't want to show it, but the way he swallowed was visible in (Y/N)'s eye. She resisted the urge to smirk satisfactory when she saw it.

But then, he leaned close as well, and in a silent whisper,"I thought you were more."

"Excuse me?"

"The Captain wasn't the only thing our men were afraid of," Zola told her, his accent showing through. "Most shared the same anecdote; a woman coming in with an innocent smile and then proceeded to wipe the guards out when you least expected it. You even had a nickname."

"But now that I see you up close, you're nothing special. Weak. Like every other woman."

(Y/N) pressed her lips in a thin line, but leaned back against her hard chair. Zola seemed pleased that she didn't have a remark to that, so she decided to cut his celebration short.

"See, I know how organizations like this work, Zola," she spoke, still leaning back.

"Enlighten me."

"You're a liability," she began, 'enlightening' him. "You're the one who knows his deepest, darkest secrets. Even if Schmidt holds you higher in the food chain, you're not that special. He can replace you in a snap, he probably already has."

"Once he hears that you're here, you think he's going to send someone to save his closest buddy? I don't think so. He's gonna realize you're going to blabber either way and well. . .you know how he is."

Zola stayed silent with her words, though the realization was hitting him slowly, and it was satisfying to watch. (Y/N) waited for the perfect moment where he cracked, because people like him were all the same. They would do anything to save their own skin.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "So, why don't you be useful for us and we'll protect you from Schmidt's wrath, or you keep your mouth shut and we throw you back in his hands."

"What do you want to know?" Perfect.

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"Johann Schmidt belongs in a bughouse," Colonel Phillips began the meeting. " He thinks he's a god, and he's willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA."

The entire squadron sat around a table in a small conference room, where Colonel Phillips stood in front of everyone as he paced around the floor. (Y/N) was sat on the edge of the table, holding onto a file of photos that were used as proof that Zola's information was real.

"Schmidt's working with powers beyond our capabilities," Howard approached the table and sat down on the empty seat. "He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard in an hour."

"How much time we got?" Jones asked out loud.

Colonel handed the photos back to her, where she stuffed them inside the file. "According to Dewitt's and I's new best friend, under 24 hours."

"Where is he now?"

"Hydra's last base is in the Alps," (Y/N) spoke up, pulling the specific picture out and handed it around the table. "500 feet below the surface."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Morita questioned, holding the photo. "I mean, it's not like we can just knock on the front door."

"Why not?"

All eyes turned at the sound of the captain's voice. He had been silent since he sat at the center of the table, so hearing him speak turned a few heads. By now, the picture was in his hands, and he stared at it for a few seconds before lifting his head with a decided look.

"That's exactly what we're gonna do."

last chapter (or chapters) are gonna HURT. brace yourselves loves :)
i wanted to include a howard x y/n scene in this one but i realized it fit more in the end of this act.

- see you soon, bex <3