Raising Liberty

{4}

The Brooklyn Bridge was always a focal point leveled with the eastern horizon, and the cargo ships at the docks gave the grayness of morning life a sense of life. This was the view of a rebuilding world that Steve looked outwards to, not taking a single glide back as the gleam of light accentuate the chiseled lines of his broad jaw and brightening the pale azure of his eyes as the haze of restless sleep dissolved. His full lips were set in a taut arc as he fell back into recollection, sensing an impending storm the rise.

He wasn't on active duty; the Howling Commando's last mission outside the borders of the Iron Curtain granted him only displacement. He made rational choices on the battlefield as the elite commander; advancing behind enemy lines without a second wind of dread obstructing his hellbent will, but the trust he had with SSR was yet to become tested.

Deep in his gut, Steve knew that an awakening of HYDRA would arise, the heads of lead enforcers: Armin Zola and Baron Zemo were spawns to the true composer of unrestrained chaos and power: the Red Skull. He wasn't dead to the world, his dark presence lingered in the shadows and new threats were becoming identified.

During the last Howling Commando raid, Steve unearthed a Soviet file containing weaponized chemical enhancements a deprived version of the alpha serum. HYDRA was selecting young Russian soldiers for underground testing, all leads pointed into the direction of Siberia. Every contact Steve had met on the mission was either missing or found dead with a bullet lodged in the skull or smoldering remains of a car wreckage. The kill shots were evidence of precision and brutal calculation, never mediocre and left no trace; it almost seemed like the targets were eliminated by a ghost. Nothing felt certain enough to chase down those cold leads as he vowed to devote his time to Peggy's needs as they prepared to embrace their little Sarah into the world.

The excitement of becoming a father was mounting and yet daunting at the same time, he needed to find balance as both the soldier and a loving father, his growing family was his greatest mission. Sighing out a breath of discontent, Steve returned a hawkish glance to the cast iron pans sitting on the stove burners, he was determined to make his 'best girl' a Brooklyn style breakfast with a touch of English flare, since Peggy had been craving sugary delights that involved blueberries as of late.

Reaching for a package of flour, a boyish smirk twisted his lips, the presence of childhood memory returned to him. It lightened the weight of grief that he carried for his best friend. The clarity of that vision was still untainted as if those memories happened just moments before… Bucky was sitting casually on a paint blotched and worn down stool, peeling an apple with the sharp glide of his knife, a smug grin played on his pouty lips as he glanced over mischievously at the bowl of flour. "Y'know you haven't been outside in three days, I know that stupid fever is keepin' you down, but we can still have fun…"

Leaning against the cluttered table of the small kitchen, Steve wheezed out a breath, feeling his narrowed chest rattle against his loose fitting shirt, one size bigger than his torso. It felt like he swallowed nails, his throat swelled with raw and nauseous heat as he managed to draw out a guttural response. "I gotta a promise to keep, Buck, the kids at the shelter are countin' on me…I can't break it."

"You're such a punk," Bucky chuckled throatily, biting into a piece of apple, and grinned smug at the little guy's hollowed, and pale cheeks flushing. "I get it, you're tryin' to impress one of the fine dames that work for the old stiff…Not a bad plan to win a swing with an easy catch, Rogers."

"Lay off it, Buck, I'm not winning any of those dames' hearts, I'm just doin' what I feel is right in my gut…The kids down there, don't have much, and I can't shove that down…"

Bucky bit down on his quirking lip rascality, evident to his playful semblance. "I'm just sayin'," he drawled with his suave undertone, holding Steve's unabashed stare of azure."You gotta start livin', punk, and I don't mean tryin' to prove that you can …um…be just like your Ma." A faint snort defined the gravity of his conveying words. "We all know you got the biggest and stupidest heart in Brooklyn, that's a given-"

"Captain…"

Steve forced his thoughts away from those cherished and vivid memories; to the welcome embrace of his wife's lavish floral scent that evoked a surge of adrenaline mounting in his veins. He spun at the moment he registered her imploring tone and steered the intent depth of his azure eyes to the alluring sight of his ethereal beauty standing in the doorway, her stance unyielding as she leaned against the wooden frame, garbed in a silken cranberry-red gown that revealed the expanding shape of his unborn daughter: his little Sarah.

"Mornin', Peg," he regarded her warmly, his full lips arched into a boyish smile that seemed to sate her reserved amusement. He stood near the stove, as batter sizzled in the evaporating butter as the scent of blueberries and banana greeted her nose. His eyes alight to glimmers of sunlight against the glass panes of the kitchen's windows."I thought pancakes seemed like a good idea…"

Peggy glared him with an arching eyebrow, dismissing a soured breath. "I honestly hope you're not using Dugan's recipe, darling, remember how many of our men were left out of action?"

Steve smirked fondly at that vivid memory, trying to inject a faint chuckle."Yeah, we were lucky to have the RAF watching our backs that day," he stalled for a moment, returning back his task of preparing her a fancy breakfast. His large hand gripped the metal flipper as fluffy batter expanded into a rounded shape, blueberries were -melting as the candied scent wafted potently in the air. "I hope these flap- jacks meet to your standards, Agent Carter."

She gave him a trenchant glare, instinctively caressing the swollen expanse of her growing belly. A smile of elation traced her ruby lips, marveling the feeling of subtle movements of their baby girl. Warmth flooded through her veins for an indefinite moment, as she closed the distance when her jeweled dark eyes connected with his soulful gaze of azure. The ground felt unstable as everything blurred into a feverish and intoxicating haze.

In a fluid motion of controlled grace, Peggy glided her lithe fingers over the bulked ridges of his broad muscles; she wasn't craving pancakes."Don't you mean your daughter's standards, Captain?"

Steve felt his lips pulling into a smile, his large hand fell unsteady on the roundness of her belly, shielding the shape of their daughter. It was vigil and tangible connection; something he felt if his mother. He reserved his emotions, holding back the tears, and glanced back into Peggy's imploring dark eyes. Being a husband and an expectant father had become a challenging transition, he wasn't adorned with his star- spangled uniform, engaging a fight with HYDRA, that season had passed, and he was on the edge of rebuilding a new one with Peggy. He needed to remain at her side, be her partner through their ultimate mission.

Feeling grounded by his choice to stay at home, his lips faintly quirked into a boyish smirk, evident to the light shimmering in his azure irises. "Peggy, I've decided that I'm needed here, and my mission gotta be you and our baby girl." He declared in a tone of reverence, cool breath ghosted over her skin, as he enclosed his arm over her swollen belly; holding her and their growing daughter against him. "If I have been distant, I wanna make up for that lost time, Peg, I wanna be at your side and feel everything with you. This is our mission together, and I'm not missin' one day of it."

"Don't be over dramatic, Captain," Peggy told him soothingly, tracing her fingers over the square edge of his broad jaw. She took in the moment with him, guiding her hand to run against the shortened tresses of his flaxen- blond hair. "We both know that you'll be needed again..I'm perfectly fine with that, knowing that you're out there saving the world that our little girl will grow in…"

"You can't do this on your own, Peg," he spoke with vehemence teeming in his baritone, his glistening azure eyes narrowed over the protruding swell were their daughter was nestled, a tender smile etched over his full lips. Steve had made his decision. He wanted to remain at home base, Peggy needed her devoted husband back, not a disciplined super soldier who pledged his life and strength to his country. "What's happening in Russia, it can wait…I just want to be here for you, like any good husband should. You know that I can use a few weeks out of uniform, just tell me what you need, I will-"

"What I need is for the man that I love to stay level on his solid ground…" Peggy returned with a hushed timbre, looking deeply into his reserved blue eyes, a glint of light shining through. He clutched her into a secure embrace, desperate to become anchored away from the battle as his lips graced warmth at the corner of her mouth, urging to capture a heated kiss. Maybe they both needed to become separated from the world, reclaim a dream and allow everything from this moment endure around them.

Steve brought his large hand to her face, angling her chin upwards to meet his lips as he tentatively caught her breath with a slow and cushioning kiss, holding her steady against his muscled torso as he felt the pressure of the swelling expanse of her belly snug against him, the pulse of heat wavering from her connecting lips gave him a promising sense of assurance that he was needed at her side, as her equal partner. They union they shared fused into a feverish interlock as Peggy felt the vibrations of the daughter growing more intense. She broke away, taking a moment to compose herself as the onslaught of pain dominated through her womb. "I think your little girl wants to claim our moment as her own, Captain."

Narrowing his eyes to her swollen belly, Steve curved his lips into a beaming smile, easing his hand on her waist. "Boy, our little darlin' is sure active today, Peg," he breathed, framing the rounded shape of their child with his palms. It was a beautiful moment."I still can't believe that we're having a baby girl…I bet she's gonna look just like you, so beautiful and very headstrong…"

Peggy felt her heart soaring, tears blurred her eyes as she placed her hand gently on his chest. "I highly doubt that she will take after me Steve since I never shared my mother's refined and strict looks, most girls take after their fathers. I know without a doubt that our little Sarah will have your eyes and blond hair…" She whispered, her fingers outlining the indents of muscle with a delicate caress of her lithe fingers, and felt the cool plates of his dog tags brush over her knuckles. "I know that she will share both of our strengths and unyielding hearts, and we'll always be there to protect her."

Somewhere in those grounded words, Steve found the truest promise wavering in her breath as he felt the pulse of his growing daughter. A smile etched over his lips as he glanced down at the swell underneath her gown. "You're so beautiful," he admitted, in a slow breath, intently watching Peggy arched one brow as she recognized the sheepish hitch in his undertone. He needed to define those words. "Well, I mean that you always look beautiful..."

"Impossibly fat…" She cut him off. "It's not easy carrying your daughter, Captain. She's already showing her strength and I'm not even half way through this and yet I feel like a bloody sow…"

"Nah, you're beautiful and you're my best girl," Steve eased out a breath, brandishing his lips softly over her flushed cheek, as his free hand reached to flip the sizzling pancakes, melting blueberries were becoming potent in the air. He gingerly slid a fluffy and rounded flapjack on a plate, his strong arm braced over her curves as he guided her to the table.

A throb of desire raged through him. He displayed restraint when his fingers deftly traced over her belly and he pulled out the wooden chair for her, in a gentlemen fashion."Now are you ready for a big breakfast, Agent Carter?"

Peggy met his affable gaze, smirking teasingly as her collective dark eyes fell on a splotch of flour dusting his chin. In fluid grace, she gripped onto his arm, forcing him to crouch down as she wetted her thumb and wiped off the smudge of white, listening to his throated chuckle.

"I think you already had yours, darling." His arching lips brushed over her hand, searing and connective warmth that she wouldn't dismiss-not ever. Relishing in her dominance over him, she reached for the glass bottle of syrup and slowly poured the contents over his pancakes."Once I'm finished with this morning delight, you're taking me out dancing...No expectations, Captain Rogers."

Steve laughed deeply at his wife's command, and furrowed his eyebrows, upon feeling a little daunted by her inevitable request. Breath nearly choked out of him. "Dancing?"

She curved her lips deviously at his reluctant and boyish demeanor, patting down on his muscled thigh, conveying her wittiness. She stabbed a piece of pancake with a fork and took a super-soldier sized bite, giving him a coaxing smile. "No one said this mission would be easy, darling."

He felt no warmth greeting him in the moment a full connective assault of lips graced roughly over his soft mouth. The taste of vodka and cheap lick stick was intoxicating to swallow. It was a slow burn that he couldn't relish. The mission needed to become successful as commands glitched in his mind, twisting the urge of resistance to pull out of it. He couldn't escape the control, the swell of his arresting lips heated as breath guttered through his heaving chest.

The dormant woman ensnared into his steeled embrace was a young mother with a son, but a compromising threat who was marked to become a shadow a grave. He would become death to her. A possessive glide of cold metal traced her pulse, slow and methodical as if he practiced every motion before while his flesh fingers caressed her exposed skin of her trim stomach with delicate precision, apply enough pressure to immobilize her. Vurenabily made him hunger as the softness arch of his lips pushed hers upwards creating a wet onslaught of avid pleasure, numbing her senses until she drew up a breathless plea. Right there, in the depth of their kiss, he broke away with a tentative roll of his tongue subduing her mouth. He grasped her wrist into the clutch of his metallic hand, keeping her grounded against the wake of dread that pulsed through him.

"Ty moy," he rasped in a low octave, hot breath gusted over her flushed skin as he inhaled her scent deeply. When she closed her eyes, desiring her to deliver another kiss, a devoid of emotion reflected in his ice-cold blue irises. He lifted his hand, tangling thick raven strands as the eager moan emitting from her lips became obstructed with silence and he tilted his head, angling for distractive kiss of fluid grace, tempting her to follow the paces of his breath until the crushing intensity of his grip coiled over her thinned neck, trapping her into a feverish a choking rhythm. He committed every sense to the mission, and in those seconds of coaxing her into deepened kiss, he delivered the killing chokehold around her throat, ending her life as the warmth of his dispassioned kiss faded into an embrace of coldness.

In a slow ease to height, he allowed her lifeless body to slip off the bulked planes of his torso, and he stood up to his imposing stance and whispered in a ghostly timbre as his mechanical eyes narrowed remorselessly at her bloodless face. "Pokoysya s mirom…" In a shifting motion, he yanked his leather jacket on the closet doorknob, as dim lamplight glinted over his metal arm enough to reveal a red star before he vanished into the darkness.