Note: Yes, I do have other stories I should be updating.

Steve checked the fifth brick from the bottom of the wall, third from the corner, then bent to tie his shoe as he mentally decoded the message.

He'd left the rest of the howling commandos en route to their next target. He hoped they were safe, and that they'd found somewhere warm out of the snow. With any luck, they'd be huddled in a barn or a deserted house, drinking steaming cups of what Jones swore was coffee, ribbing each other over some mishap or dreaming of home.

Since he could travel faster for longer, he'd been the one to meet their contact. As he walked purposefully to his destination, he could see the toll the long war had taken on the citizens of the town. Children melted out of sight as he passed, and gaunt women rushed by him with their gaze focused on the snow-covered cobblestones. Businesses and homes were boarded up, and some had been reduced to rubble.

He reached his destination and knocked three times. The door was opened by a tired-looking man, and Steve shook the snow off his boots as the door swung shut behind him. He followed the silent man further into the house, listening intently for any sign of a trap. He heard a board creak to his right, and whirled, shield raised.

"Steve."

He dropped the shield and grinned at the woman in the faded dress. She wore no makeup and her hair was wrapped securely in a kerchief, but it was undoubtedly Peggy Carter.

"Peg."

She nodded at the man who met him at the door. "Thank you, Martin. You can go home to your family."

The man nodded and left, and Peggy gestured at the threadbare couch. "Sit", she said. "We might as well be comfortable while we talk".

Steve wasted no time filling Peggy in on the progress the commandos had made against Hydra, and Peggy in turn shared the latest intelligence reports. By the time they finished catching up, it was late afternoon. Peggy produced some bread, cheese, and wine, and they shared an impromptu picnic by the fire.

When they'd finished and tidied up, Steve slung his shield on his back and wrapped his arms around Peggy. "It was really good to see you, Peggy."

She put her hands on his chest and pushed until he had no choice but to let her go. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to start back to camp", he answered, confused.

She raised one eyebrow. "In the dark?"

"Yes?" Somehow, it came out as a question, rather than the firm statement he'd intended.

Her arms crossed. "In a snow storm?"

"It's not snowing." Her gaze went from him to the window, and his followed. Of course, it was of no use, since he couldn't see from the well-lit room to the darkness outside. He opened the door, prepared to point out the complete lack of snow, which would have been easier if he hadn't been met by a swirling storm of white.

"OK", he said. "It is snowing, but I can make it through. Besides", he continued, "it will probably clear up before long."

"A lot of good that'll do you", she answered, "when you're freezing to death in a ditch somewhere."

"I'm not going to freeze", he answered. "The serum …"

"Captain Rogers" There was a snap to her voice, one he'd learned to ignore at his peril. "You are going to set down your shield, and take off your boots, and spend one night in a warm bed before you go back to sleeping in snow banks or small ponds or wherever you happen to find yourself."

"Won't the neighbors …"

"The neighbours", she said firmly, "are not your concern. They don't know who you are. They don't even know who I am, and most of them are too busy staying alive to worry about what we might be up to."

"Are you sure?", he asked again. "The cold doesn't really bother me, and I wouldn't want anyone to think …"

At her glare, his voice trailed off and he gave in to the inevitable. As ordered, he set the shield on the floor and pulled his boots off, setting them neatly by the door. Somehow, it felt like he'd forgotten what to do with his hands, and he must have rearranged them seven or eight times before Peggy sighed.

"Really", she said. "I don't know why this has to be so complicated. Follow me."

Some kids lied to get there way, or to get out of trouble. Not Steve – even as a kid, he hadn't been able to tell even the smallest falsehood, let alone the whoppers that Bucky tried – and often succeeded – getting away with. If he told so much as a white lie, he'd blush and stammer and sometimes even fall over. He was more inclined to tell the truth and fight his way out of any trouble he landed in, so when he showed up to the rendezvous point a day late blaming the snow, it was obvious he was lying.

What wasn't obvious was why.

While the guys were ribbing him about needing a ride from Santa and filling him in on the small amount of progress we'd made while he was gone, Bucky tried to figure out what Steve was up to.

All he'd done was meet the SSR's latest messenger boy to get updated intelligence so they didn't end up walking into a trap. There was no reason to lie about that.

Unless, of course, the messenger boy was a messenger girl. Would Peggy Carter leave the relative safety of camp to meet Steve Rogers in a small Belgian town?

Was the pope Catholic? Of course she would. She was the only person Bucky had ever met who was just as stubborn and reckless as Steve. She'd probably jumped at the chance. Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and an unexplained delay…he didn't need to be a genius to make that add up.

The huddle around the map broke, and everyone started to gather their gear so we could move out. Bucky moved close to Steve, who made a complete hash of folding the map, just barely saving it from landing in a snow bank.

Bucky was pretty sure his suspicion was right, so he stopped to pull on his pack and take a swig from his canteen. "Too bad the snow slowed you down", he said.

Steve's gaze stayed focused on the nothing in the distance. "Yeah. Bad luck."

"Sure it wasn't the lovely Agent Carter?"

For the first time, Bucky could remember, Steve looked scared. "Look, Buck …."

Bucky clapped him on the back. "Relax, pal, your secret's safe with me."

Thoughts?