#the 120 who died shall never be forgotten

[scoopsofthestupid]

Never forget 9/11. 1857 shall forever be a year tainted in history.

[redeemer46]

Real life just loves to keep us tethered to it. Not that I don't appreciate a lot of it. Who I work with; and for, well, after I've jumped a ship to Valinor by kind guidance, which would be great if it were real, they will still be talking about them, in the meantime, as I remind them so frequently about how flaky life can be, I hope that all of you are out there, doing what I used to do, doing the thing that makes us happy, sharing. Oh but wait, I still DO...It comes in waves allowed by the day to day but the tide, it welcomes us to follow...So, shall you! If but a moment of your mind, we can all embrace, bring it forth. There are more waiting for your creation than you can imagine; so CREATE, unabashedly so!

The first story I ever wrote was when I was 10, I won an honorable mention in some Presidential contest and it was about a horse. Horribly illustrated, by me, but I still have the copy. Yes, the horse died, yes, it was devastating and it was prob the best thing I ever created in some ways.

Let's see what I have on the docket and in the queue: So much. Maybe you want to tune in and I'd love to see your thoughts. Perhaps, you won't and that's ok too as long as you are doing you!

So, here's where we are for those who have read on Archive of Our Own or those who haven't yet..Either way, grateful to A03 and Tumblr for having open platforms.

Reedemer46

In the Queue:

Because the King Says, Chapter 120: Thraduil still trying to sort himself out as the Reader returns to Mirkwood with both Elrond and Glorfindel.

Traversing Tolkien Tales: Fun little AU band concept.

Just like Silly Movies: Thranduil coming to terms with what Reader needs and wants. Fame is a fickle bitch.

Thranduil the masseuse...Yep, this is happening.

Dungeon of Your Dreams: Part VI, we have seen when the dom, Thranduil, doesn't do something maybe we'll all see why he does.

Wayward and Wanting: Wanderlust with the Winchester's...Oh, I haven't forgotten my lovelies, working on the last request I got, a year ago but I will never abandon these boys, especially as..ahem, tied up as they are.

On the Docket:

Traversing: So much, we know the Annual needs us to figure out Thranduil's s erogenous zones

Barduil: Yep, I'd write for them until my eyes crossed.

Halbrand and Reader: It's not going to be polite, though it probably starts out that way.

***Almost everything I write is NSFW, so that's the warning!!

[gnollandvoid]

MADical Items! The Strongest Items you'll never want to touch.

[Read the original thread here.]

Beautybane Blade (by ArchRain)

Legendary Item +3 Longsword. Requires Attunement by a Druid, Ranger, Oath of the Ancients Paladin or Cleric of the Nature Domain. If ever attuned a Character can never gain further levels in the aforementioned class. The character gains the ability to cast the Cantrip Druidcraft, learning another cantrip from the Druid Spell list if they already possess it and gain the ability to cast the spell Shillelagh targeting only this weapon. When the blade is drawn the DM calculates and announces a +1 for every Acre of Grass or Flowers, 100 trees and population of animals equaling either 100 Creatures or two CR within immediate unaided view of the Character with a maximum of +5 from these features to attack rolls. Whenever an attack is made with this weapon one of the aforementioned features instantly dies and the bonus is reduced by one. When this weapon critically strikes the opponent can expend two uses of the Legendary Save feature or instantly die. After killing an enemy with this weapon all party members lose inspiration or go to -1 inspiration if they had none available and the user cannot cast spells from their attuned class's spell list for the next week. Furthermore the DM randomly determines which prominent flower across the world instantly wilts and rots away.

Why it's fucking horrible: It visibly blights the land around you, permanently destroys a beautiful lifeform and leaves anything that survives in a horrible depressed state. There are no cheers and applause when you strike down an enemy with this blade. Only the quiet sobbing of the Universe. Why it's worth using: It's overpowered, edgy and cinematic.

Umbral Stone (by ignoringImpossibru)

Wondrous item, very rare. Any creature that makes contact with the crystal surface is instantly transported to Shadowfell, as if affected by the plane shift spell. Any time this effect is triggered, roll 1d20. On a 1, this location becomes a permanent gate to the plane of Shadowfell, open only under a new moon at midnight.

If the Umbral Stone is fashioned into any sort of melee weapon, treat it as a +1 weapon of that type, and trigger it's effect on hit.

Twilight's Cut (by Bluesamurai33)

This +3 weapon visibly distorts the air around it with waves of magical energy, similar to heat rising off a hot surface. An intricate handle made of Black Wood inlaid with Obsidian and Cold Iron meets with an axe head formed from the metal of a fallen star and granted power from a long forgotten Archmage.

In order to attune, a memory of a person, place or thing must be voluntarily surrendered to the blade each day at sunset in order for the attunement to happen. The wielder cannot offer up memories formed while attuned to this weapon. These memories can never be restored by any form of magic. While attuned, the user is shielded from any magic or effect that would effect their mind. Anyone who witnesses this blade being used must roll a WIS Save DC 18 or forget the event entirely.

The blade deals an additional 2d12 Psychic damage on a hit, and the target must make an INT saving throw equal to the psychic damage dealt or be paralyzed until the end of their next turn. Any creature killed by this blade is erased from the knowledge of the planes. No magic, not even a Wish spell can cause anyone to ever remember the creature. Paintings of the creature are unmade, any writing about it is made unreadable by any means and any memories involving them alter to not include them. Even the wielder is left staring at an unknown corpse, with only the knowledge that it was killed by his/her hand, but the who, what, and why of it are lost for all time.

Dreamcatcher (by Tsunimo)

Magical Weapon (Chakram), Artifact

The wielder of this weapon must first attune to it by sleeping with it under their pillow for a week. While doing so, the person attuning to it has fantastical dreams, as well as the best sleep they’ve ever had, or ever will. Upon attunement, the wielder is automatically proficient in it

The wielder of this weapon is able to receive the benefits of 8 hours of sleep with only 4 hours of actual sleep each night.(The character must still not take any strenuous activity for the entire 8 hours to receive the benefits of a long rest.) Whenever the wielder sleeps, he is wracked by nightmares the entire time, always about the wielder performing unspeakable acts upon the people he cares about most.

The Dreamcatcher is a beautifully crafted mithril Chakram. Made by a master weaponsmith, in the midst of nightmare-induced insomnia, when seen under moonlight, there appears to be an intricate web of strings on the inside of the weapon, forming the shape of an open eye. No matter how you look at the Dreamcatcher from then on, it appears that the eye is watching you.

This weapon has the thrown and finesse properties, with a range of 40/120, and is treated as having a +3 bonus. After being thrown, the Dreamcatcher returns to the attuned creatures hand immediately following striking a target or a surface. This cannot be controlled or stopped by the wielder. Attacks with this weapon deal 1d8 slashing, plus 2d8 radiant damage. If used during a full or new moon, strikes with the weapon are treated as critical hits on rolls of 19 or 20, instead of just 20 (this does stack with similar abilities, effectively inc

If the wielder uses the Dreamcatcher to bring a target to 0 hit points, the fear and terror held within its inner webbing is released, and channeled into the target. The target immediately transforms into an evil beast of nightmare, usually reflective of the targets greatest fear. While in this form, the target remains aware of what he is doing, and though he can do nothing to stop himself, trapping him in his own nightmare until the monstrosity is slain.

Phantom Blade (by Dovaaahhh)

Magical Weapon (Dagger), Artifact

This small dagger is missing its blade, and has been enchanted to use the energy of souls as its cutting force. It has been speculated that the creator had a steady supply of souls that were rent from their original body. A small ruby has been haphazardly fastened to the roughly carved and heavily blood-stained wooden hilt with a thin silver band.

Requires attunement. Using a bonus action, the wielder may summon a spectral blade, but doing so will consume the wielder's soul. The blade is a faint translucent crimson, pulsing faintly in time with the user's heart. Upon a successful attack with the summoned blade it will shatter into a cloud of etherial dust, and both the target and the wielder will instantly die.

Souls consumed by the blade are entirely removed from existence, thus they will not continue to their respective afterlife.

If the blade leaves the wielder's hand after being activated, they will die. However, the blade shall still remain activated for its remaining duration. It can be used to full effect by another being with a successful DC 25 Arcana check.

One hour after activation, the summoned blade dissipates. At this time, the wielder will die.

The Azure Codex (by BlueDragon101)

As the Book of Exalted Deeds and the Book of Vile Darkness are to evil and good, the Azure Codex is to magic. Pure magic. It is useable as a spellbook, and if you are attuned to it you gain the following benefits:

1 Major beneficial property 1 Minor beneficial property +3 to spell attack and damage rolls +3 to spell save DC

The Codex is divided into 3 sections: The Eternal Spellkeep, The Encyclopedia Arcana, and the Tome of Mystic Rites

The Eternal Spellkeep responds to the ability of the user. It acts as a spellbook with every spell written in it, although the only ones readable are those of a level you can cast. If someone, anywhere, creates a new spell, it is instantly added to the Spellkeep. While attuned to the Codex, the number of spells you can memorize/the number of spells known increases by an amount equal to your proficiency bonus. If your caster level is 10 or above, you may memorize/learn spells from any spell list, not just your own. However, none of these spells may be above 5th level.

The Encyclopedia Arcana is a guide to all things arcane. However, like the Tome of Mystic Rites, it is encrypted, abeit not as strongly. A user may make a DC 16 Arcana check to decipher a given page. The pages in this section consist of the Monster Manual Entries, the List of Magic Items in the Dungeon Master Guide and any magical lore specific to the setting.

The Tome Of Mystic Rites is a compendium of every known arcane ritual, from ones meant to summon gods to those that change day to eternal night. This is literally meant to store the instructions for whatever plot coupon/ McGuffin the DM uses.

The Open Book (by LePopeUrban)

This book allows any person who makes physical contact with it the ability to concentrate on a piece of unknown knowledge about any subject. That knowledge will be written, beginning on the next blank page, in a language the user understands.

Following this passage will be written a complete history of the user's life up to the point they used the book. If this person has used the book previously, the record will continue from where it last ended.

If the book is closed every person recorded in its pages and any living descendants will vanish from existence. All items recorded will also vanish from existence. Memory of any recorded events will be forgotten from all mundane and magical records, though their effects will remain. The book itself will appear, closed, at the location of one of these items, people, or events chosen at random.

When the book is opened again, its reader will find their own life story, written in a language they can read, up to the point they opened the book recorded within preceded by a page that reads "this book was closed" and followed by a seemingly uncountable number of blank pages. Nearby within 1d4 feet they will find a mundane quill and an inkwell completely full of ink. They will discover that any attempts to deface the writing are ineffective, but that they are free to write whatever they wish in the blank space.

Plot Hooks: An illiterate thief attempts to steal the book, only to have it vanish, and their world irrecoverably changed as a result. A power-mongering scribe or mage begins recording the history of the royal family for leverage.The book is used by an adventurer's guild to track down interesting items.The book contains the key to curing the world of some great evil, but is held open because it contains the life record of the noble paladin that found it.The book contains a record of the formation of the cosmos.There are two books, and their creators recorded the creation of each in the other.The book contains conflicting accounts of a historical event, and two opposing factions each believe one of them to be true.A cult leader enlists subordinates to obtain knowledge from the book without using it himself.An order of librarians and attempts to record as many events as possible within the book without knowing about or using its magical properties. The book is kept open only due to a tradition with unknown origins.The book is scanned in to a digital format. Its magical properties remain intact among all copies.

[avengershumanresources]

Dust to Dust (2)

Summary: Where did Hydra come from? An idea? A twisted dream? For an organization that spans centuries, it kept relatively quiet until contemporary times.The Super Soldier serum wasn’t dreamt up over night, but was the product of numerous experiments both unethical and violent over the course of the century. It was going to be the end of all conflicts between good and evil. Scientists died trying to determine the next level of the serum, only for it to be stolen by enemies. Back and forth until one side had the advantage.

Mabel Foster was everything the ideal woman should be in 1914. She was well brought-up, wealthy, educated and the heiress to a large fortune. When her father died in a much publicized U-boat attack by the Germans, Mabel made a decision that changed the course of history by enlisting in the French Army during WWI.

After an ambush gone bad, Mabel found herself captured by an early group of Hydra.100 years later she’s discovered in a desolate Hydra base and is taken by the Avengers for safe-keeping and questioning. Little do they realize that all of their destinies and pasts are directly connected through the nest that Hydra weaved.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC (Original Female Character)

Rating/Warnings: Mature- Graphic violence, torture, PTSD, smut

(Masterlist found HERE)

“Quand je marche dans la rue, la rue vers le Sacré-Cœur.  Je me souviens des promesses au nom de l'amour.  Je vais t'attendre là. Viendras-tu pour moi?”

“(When I walk in the street, the street to Sacred Heart.  I remember the promises in the name of love.  I'll wait for you there.  Will you wait for me?)”

-The Civil Wars (Sacred Heart)

French Countryside- Location Classified- Summer 1917

Mabel's unit was due to receive their first batch of American soldiers.  Once the States had entered the war, it had caused quite the ruckus throughout the ranks of Mabel's senior officers.  

They had the advantage now, they argued; it was the German’s folly for tempting the Beast and now the Central powers would pay for their actions.  

“Garnier!” The leader of Mabel's unit snapped at the young officer and she jumped to attention at her name.  As the years had passed, she'd almost forgotten her birth name.  She naturally responded to Pierre Garnier on so many occasions she felt that it'd become a part of her on a biological level.  

“The 107th just arrived,” her Captain explained with a long sigh when she jogged up.  She knew that meant more coordinating and late nights for the older man who barely slept as it was.  “I need you to grab a handful of them and report to the mess for assignment.”  He passed off a list of names that Mabel scanned for any semblance of recognition.  

Jonah was just entering the age where he could potentially be drafted.  It ached Mabel's heart to think that he could be shipped out and murdered just a few feet away from his sister.  

The 107th was New York's reserve after all.

With the list in hand, she hurried off toward the front of the camp to report to the American’s senior officer.  When he introduced himself as Captain Sanders, Mabel had to fight the blush that threatened to spill over her cheeks.  

Sanders had been pursuing Mabel for many years as a potential suitor.  He came from old-money and his father was a retired General from the Civil War who'd worked closely with Mabel's family.

Fortunately, the worn leader did not recognize the Manhattan heiress in her current disguise.  

“I need Rogers, Marsh, Williams, McDonald, Asher, and Meyer,” she detailed the list and looked up for the small squad of soldiers.  Sanders repeated the names into the crowd of soldiers and a few bright faced young men moved forward.  

“Here's your boys, I recommend you get to it before someone changes their mind,” Sanders gestured to the group and passed them off to the French soldier.  

“We have orders to report to the mess hall for a special assignment,” she announced.  Her low voice that she tried to use when she spoke English broke slightly and a few of the men, McDonald and Meyer, murmured under their breath about French pansies.  

Mabel elected to ignore the comment and marched forward a few feet ahead of the group.  

“They're a bunch of assholes,” a voice commented from Mabel's side.  “I know the crap you've all seen out here and you are much bigger men than these fools.”

“I appreciate that,” she gave him a curt nod and offered her hand.  “Pierre Garnier.”

“Joseph Rogers,” the blonde gave her a firm handshake and smiled.  “When my wife and I left Ireland, didn't think I'd have a chance to see Europe again.”  

He had a slight Irish accent that Mabel had only noticed after he mentioned his origins.  It was subtle; he’d managed to grasp the New Yorker accent well- not that Mabel was going to admit it.

“Are you in the States now?” She inquired, knowing full well he was from New York based off of the little information she knew of him.  But, Pierrewouldn't have necessarily known that.  

“Brooklyn,” he replied with a shrug.  “Got my wife and our soon to be baby settled before shipping out.”

“Congratulations,” Mabel murmured, a pang of sadness hitting her when she realized he'd probably miss the child's birth during his service.

“Thank you,” he gave a grin. “Sarah is wagering it's a boy but I'm positive it's going to be a little girl.  I was the first and only boy in my family.  Us Rogers’ make girls.”  

“I guess we shall wait and see,” she commented with a reassuring smile.  Joseph seemed so kind compared to the cruel and violent world she'd become accustomed to.  

“What about you?  Family around here?” he questioned the soldier.  Mabel knew he was trying to be friendly, but she was so out of touch with normal social practices that the question came out of nowhere.

“I have a fiancé in the States,” she replied quickly.  It wasn’t entirely a lie, considering Pierre was her betrothed, but neither party had an interest in following through with the arrangement.  “And a sister back in Paris.” Well, Pierre, had a sister in Paris.

“I’ll make sure we wrap this war up quickly then,” Joseph chortled.  He clapped a hand on Mabel’s shoulder.  “Can’t keep you and your lady away for too much longer.  It’s just inhumane.”

“Feels like this war is never going to end,” Mabel grumbled lightly before saluting the waiting soldier outside of the mess.

“That’s going to be up to you, Garnier,” her superior officer had heard the comment and smirked in her direction.  “You men are some of the best shots in Europe and the powers that be have decided to put their faith in you.”

“When did it really hit you?” Steve asked Bucky while they watched the frail woman sleeping in the medical bay.  They’d been instructed to wait outside the room while doctors and nurses fretted about.

“When did what hit me?” the brunette asked, not bothering to look up at his companion.  Instead, he kept a tight blue gaze locked on the woman as her chest slow rose and sank on the sterile bed.

“The reality of what had happened,” Steve clarified.  “Time travel, Hydra, and the general confusion.”

“Not sure if I’ve fully accepted it, to be honest,” Bucky replied.  He gave a long sigh and narrowed his eyes at a machine showing the woman’s vitals.  For 120-something years old, she was doing pretty well.  Perhaps it was a testament to Hydra’s scientific ability.

“I get that,” Steve shifted his weight.  “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and be tiny again.”

“Hey, you never know,” Bucky glanced at his friend and allowed a grin.  “We’re all just test subjects right?"

“I don’t know, if whatever is in us kept her going for 100 years, maybe I’ll never see it happen,” he joked.  Steve gave Bucky a punch and the latter muttered under his breath.

“Punk,” he shook his head and continued to stare through the glass.  “Her face- it seems familiar.  But I can’t place it.”

Admittedly, when Bucky first saw the mysterious woman, he felt that tugging at his memory he hadn’t felt since initially leaving Hydra’s control.  He couldn’t place it.  She never worked with him on missions and she was too young to have been out of freeze for very long to interact significantly with him.

“Anything bad?” Steve’s voice revealed an air of worry to Bucky’s comment.  “Maybe a sleeper agent?”

“No,” he frowned.  “Nothing like that.  I would have known.”

He’d been instructed to work with a number of agents from around the world.  Bucky would have definitely remembered her.

“I’m sure we’ll find out then,” Steve nodded toward the med bay where the woman was beginning to stir.  Non-essential staff was ushered out by the lead doctor and Steve was gestured to go inside.  “Wish me luck.”

“Don’t die,” Barnes teased in return, helping his friend by opening the glass door for him.

Steve made his way to a chair by the woman’s beside and waited patiently for her eyes to flutter open.

After she falsely recognized Steve in the Hydra base, it was decided that perhaps he be the one to introduce her to the new world she now resided in.  He definitely had the experience, both personal and professionally helping Bucky.

Bucky leaned into the glass, wishing more than anything he could hear the conversation that was occurring in front of him.  Steve spoke first, and Bucky could tell the super soldier was talking in hushed and calming tones.  The woman simply sat up in her bed and stared.

Her eyes trailed around the room, studying the various pieces of equipment and the doctor who stood quietly to the side, before settling on the blonde once again.  Bucky was suddenly thankful for the one-way glass that surrounded the room.

If she was frightened, she didn’t reveal it physically.  Clearly this was a person who had mastered masking their emotions long before this encounter.  Next to Bucky, a psychologist was listening through a headset to what was being said and scribbling down notes.  The former assassin tried his best not to be nosy but caught a few glimpses of what had been written down.

Hesitant, observant, nervous

Nervous? Bucky did not agree with that assessment one bit.  He knew that look and it wasn’t a nervous one.  If anything, she was prepping an escape or mentally taking in her potential threats before making a decision.  Steve stood up and offered a hand to the woman and she gave it a gentle shake, her eyes still watching him with suspicion and judgement.

Psychologists were a load of crap anyway- at least in Bucky’s opinion.  They didn’t do anything and honestly caused more trouble than they resolved.  Sure, Steve would probably disagree, but Bucky refused to back down from his stance.

She still hadn’t opened her mouth- choosing instead to listen to the information given to her.  The doctor now stood forward and ran through some clinical information.  Steve was off to the side, occasionally sending the woman a reassuring smile or nod after the doctor said something.  After that, the doctor left the room to just Steve and the woman.

Now it was Bucky’s turn.

When the doctor went into the hallway, she gestured for Bucky to go inside.  Clearly they were happy with the young woman’s progress if he was allowed inside.  Steve was supposed to cover the basics- Hi, you’re in the future.  I’m from the past too.  Everything is ok, you’re not with Hydra anymore.  Bucky was mainly there for moral support.

He opened the door and slid inside as quietly as he could.  He didn’t want to rattle her; knowing full well how every sense was tuned to the smallest stimuli after freezing.

“This is James Barnes,” Steve introduced, pushing him a little closer to the woman.  “He was a soldier too, in a different war with me.”

“Hello,” he greeted, suddenly feeling very awkward and clumsy under the woman’s hazel gaze.  It seemed like the color of her eyes had hardened now that she was a little more conscious.

“I remember you,” she simply stated, her expression unchanging and sending a chill down Bucky’s core.  She recognized him as well.  He wasn't crazy.  He tensed, waiting for more information, readying himself to fight.  

“He was in the lab with us when you initially woke up,” Steve tried to interject but she shook her head.

“No, before this,” she noted, her expression slipping to confusion a brief moment before the mask covered her again.  “You’re still young.”

James was at a loss for words.  He hadn’t encountered a single soul from Hydra who didn’t mean him malicious intent, perhaps he'd forgotten a bitter past?  Maybe she was a sleeper agent he'd encountered briefly during his training? He stood there, his expression souring before Steve intervened with a quick question.

“What do you remember?” he prompted the woman, his hand going to Bucky’s arm to calm the man.  It was probably for the best.  Bucky felt like he was about to make an incredibly stupid decision if left to his own devices.  He kept his mouth shut and let Steve do the talking.  Even if he thought Steve was an idiot for underestimating this woman's past, perhaps violence wasn't the best approach.

“I met you twice,” she continued, her voice growing in strength while she spoke, her body language suggested no anger or resentment, but perhaps she masked it as well as her other thoughts.  “Before and after…” she gestured toward his left arm and frowned.  Was that guilt he detected?  Perplexed, Bucky felt his chest loosen and he grabbed an extra chair from the side of the room, sliding it next to Steve's.  The blonde soldier` took note and sat down next to him, his eyes glancing in Bucky's direction, ready to jump in if needed.  

“They did a- er- something on us-,” she paused trying to find the correct word.  “Transfusion sanguine.”

A blood transfusion, he mentally translated.  From time to time he recalled flashes of his fall from the train; the agony of losing his left arm and the subsequent surgery that followed.

“Your arm was not saved, despite their efforts,” she explained, the hardening in her eyes shifting to pity at the man in front of her.  “The transfusion saved your life.  They said something about a serum.  It was in Russian so I didn’t understand it all.”

“What happened after that?” Steve tried to pull more information from the woman, but her eyes became distant and she shook her head.  

“I don’t think that’s a story for today, my apologies,” she practically whispered the words, her voice hollow and shaking.  That was fear, Bucky realized.  And he was pretty sure he knew why.

“Your name’s Mabel, right?” Bucky finally spoke up and the auburn haired woman looked startled at his sudden question.  She looked as tense as he felt, perhaps she had been reading him while they spoke.  He repeated the name in a softer tone.  “Mabel Foster?”

“No one has said that name in a very long time,” she replied with a weak smile, visibly relaxing.  “But yes, that is the name I was given at birth.”

The trio fell silent before Steve stood and announced that Mabel needed to get some more sleep before they tried to talk again.  Bucky murmured his agreement before Mabel interrupted their leaving with a small question.

“You said I’ve been asleep a while,” she looked uncertain a moment, as if she wasn’t interested in the answer to the question but knew she had to ask.  “And you’re still here…” she trailed off when she looked at Bucky.  Her expression lost and distant a moment, they waited for her to continue.  When she jumped back to reality, she finally was able to phrase the question.  “What year is it?”

Steve stumbled over words before Bucky stepped forward and knelt down next to the woman’s bed so he was eye level with her.  He wasn't going to pull the punch.  The sooner she find out, the better.  

“It’s been a hundred years, Mabel,” he stated firmly.  The woman didn’t look surprised, he noted while he waited.  She rustled some of her blankets and repositioned herself on the small hospital mattress.

“I see,” she merely commented.  “Thank you Mr. Barnes, and Mr. Rogers.”

The men could tell that was her way of dismissing them and they quickly parted the room.  When they entered the hallway, the medical staff had all but disappeared.   Tony and Natasha had made their way to the level and were muttering amongst themselves.  

The lights in the room dimmed when Mabel fell back into her bed.  Before Bucky could catch another look, Tony blacked the glass out, conserving the woman’s privacy for the evening.

“She knew you,” Natasha stated when the soldiers approached their duo.  “Are we sure she isn’t an agent?”

“I don’t think so,” Bucky insisted.  He ran an anxious hand through his mess of brown hair and shook his head.  “She gave me a blood transfusion.  I think she was a science project for them.”

To his core, Bucky felt sick at the idea of the woman waiting around to be harvested after he returned from missions.  Perhaps it’d been a one-time thing and she’d been the most stable with his serum? 

“We’re still working on the files we gathered from the base,” Tony’s voice brought Bucky out of his daze and he saw that Steve and Natasha were listening intently.  “It was built by a Dr. Krauss toward the middle of World War 1.  Funded by a wealthy beneficiary in the German empire with Hydra ties but that’s all we know right now.  Hopefully when our friend is feeling up to it, she can provide a little insight."

“If we can trust her,” Natasha reminded him coolly.  Of course the red haired spy was careful to believe anything an outsider brought to the table.  She needed all the facts, and if the facts showed anything at this point, this woman was no better than Bucky was at his height of power in Hydra.

“I’ve got nothing but time,” Tony laughed, folding his tablet shut and turning on his heel toward his apartment.

Germany- French held Trenches- Midnight-  August 1917

“She lost the baby,” Joseph whispered to his companion over the hum of explosions and stray gunshots.  “In June, I guess.”

“Joseph, I’m so sorry,” Mabel gave her friend a genuine look of misery for his suffering.  The blonde-haired man leaned up against the muddy trench and frowned.

“I’m supposed to ship back for a week in October,” he continued solemnly.  “Maybe we can give it another try.”

“Perhaps,” Mabel agreed quietly, unsure of what else to supply to him.  When her cousin lost her first child, the woman was inconsolable.  What Mabel would do for Joseph to be by his wife’s side during this devastating time...

“Our neighbors are watching her,” he added.  “The Barnes’.  They just had a boy of their own a bit ago.  Sarah said he’s a sweet kid, a quiet baby.  Hopefully that’ll help.  Gee, I don’t know.”

He gave a bitterly sad laugh.  The pain was echoed through the trench a moment.

“I was technically right,” he added after a few heartbeats of silence.  “It’d been a girl.  Her name was Maria after Sarah’s mother.  They found her a little plot outside of the cemetery.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly.  “I’m gonna visit her when I go back.”

“Send my regards,” Mabel replied, she blinked back a few tears that threatened to spill over.

“Her Uncle Pierre will always be welcomed,” Joseph snickered.  “I’ll make sure Sarah sends some goodies back with me.  We gotta fatten you up.”

PART 3