Yours... 'til the End of the Line

Casualties

Russia, January 1945.

We gathered on the top of a high plateau. The snow-covered mountain tops shined in the moonlight, the snow twinkling like diamonds. A gust of wind cut through my core as I peered over the edge. I never thought the day that I would see the Alpine Pass would be to garner intelligence and take an enemy down. Looking at my life for the past year, I shouldn't be surprised.

I had grown close with all the men along the way. James was my closest confidant and best friend as we trekked through enemy territory. Constantly vigilant in his task to keep me out of harm's way. I would remind him that I could hold my own, to which he would joke that he was trying to be a hero. I was afraid to admit that I had developed feelings for the man, feelings I was would never tell another soul. James did something to me. He made me want to be better. He listened to me. He laughed with me. He was everything I was looking for in a partner, but I knew he would never return those same thoughts about me.

Steve had become one of my closest mates, as well. Confiding in me the feelings he held for my best gal, Peggy. He would pull me aside and discuss the next move with me and James before informing the others. He had become like a brother. Always there, never wavering in his confidence that I could do it. It was strange. It was like we had switched our roles from Camp Lehigh. He was the one comforting and supporting me, instead of me doing that to him. He had really come into his own. I knew he could do it, I had no doubt. Dr. Erskine was right about him, good becomes great. Nonetheless, this was not a time to reminisce on the past. It was time to focus on the mission.

Morita was crouched over the transceiver, turning the knobs to adjust the frequency of the voices that were flowing through Jones' headphones. The men's faces were contorted in concentration as they listened. Falsworth wielded a pair of binoculars, peering over the alps to the tracks that hugged the curve of the mountain East from us. Dugan and Dernier were adjusting a winch on the cliff's edge, both focused on their task, making certain that it would hold. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky stood a few paces from me, holding a conversation in hushed whispers that wouldn't reach my ears.

I glared at them, not in anger, but with pique interest. James's brow was knitted together as he listened to his friend, nodding when appropriate. A small smile flitted across Steve's features for a moment, then he glanced in my direction. Catching his eye, I cocked a brow at him, but Steve simply shook his head and patted James' shoulder.

"The engineer just radioed ahead," Jones' voice pulled my attention. "Hydra dispatch gave him permission to open throttle." Jones ripped the headphones from his ears. "Whatever's on this train, they must need it... bad."

"Well, they're not going to get it," Morita chimed confidently.

"I wouldn't be so sure..." Falsworth quickly handed me the binoculars, allowing me to see a far-off train speeding down the tracks. "Because they're moving like the devil."

Dropping the binoculars in Falsworth's hands, I turned and watched as Steve checked his rifle. James glanced over the edge. His blue eyes widened at the height. I trudged over to him, my feet crunching the white snow beneath my boots. Patting him on the shoulder, I gave him a meaningful smile, though he couldn't see through my black mask. Though, he must have caught onto the gesture as he nervously returned the favor.

"Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?" James asked Steve.

"And I threw up?" Steve smiled at the memory.

"This isn't payback, is it?" James asked as he glanced over the edge again, leery.

Steve looked up at him with a Cheshire grin.

"Now, why would I do a thing like that?"

"Jerk."

"Punk."