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Bygone

Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader

Synopsis: You had spent years as an experiment. A test subject for the very force you had once fought against. Now you're free, reunited with the man you grew up with, your Alpha, Steve Rogers. Only one hundred years of trauma and a broken bond hold you back.

(A/N: This will be a heavy story, full warning. It will be dealing with trauma, PTSD and SA. It is linked to my other story, Anachronism but you don't have to read that to understand this fic. Lottie is the reader from Anachronism. The reader in this story is a super soldier. )

1945

Your wrists ached from the restraints digging into your skin. The cold steel table beneath you sent a shiver down your spine, but it wasn’t from the temperature - it was from the sheer, suffocating sense of wrongness that filled the air.

Hydra had you.

You didn’t remember how long it had been since the ambush. Days? Weeks? The only thing you knew was that they had kept you drugged, disorientated. Every time you fought back, they’d restrain you tighter.

But none of that mattered. None of it compared to the one thought racing through your head.

Steve would come for you.

He always did, always had. You could ensure this - endure anything- because Steve would come.

The heavy concrete doors creaked open.

Dr Reinhardt, a young beta man, entered the room. You knew about him from the reports, he was an assistant of Dr Zola, a Hydra scientist and researcher. He wore a smug, snake-like expression he always wore, that glint of his glasses reflecting the dim light above you. Behind him, two hydra soldiers flanked the door, standing stiffly like statues.

You lifted your head as much as you could, your glare sharp despite the exhaustion dragging you down They hadn’t fed you much and sleep was only a few short moments before your system shocked you awake.

“Hope you enjoyed your last breath, Doc,” You rasped out, “Cause Steve’s coming, and when he does, he’ll-

Reinhardt chuckled, “Ah, Fraulein, always so certain, so full of fight,”

He stepped closer, pressing gloved fingers to your pulse point as if assessing your vitals. You flinched away from him, but the restraints holding your head in place made it hard to move.

“It is a shame, truly. That fight could have served you well,”

You jerked against the restraints, trying to kick at him, “When Steve gets here, you won’t have time to run-”

Reinhardt’s smug look stayed on his face as he simply tilted his head, his following words turning your blood to ice.

“Steve Rogers is dead,”

Your breath stilled before you started to pull at the restraints, “You’re lying,”

The scientist pulled a news paper from under his arm, flipping it open and revealing the front page. A photograph of Steve in his Captain America uniform, the headlines making your throat swell.

“No..,” Your voice came out as barely a whisper, instincts flaring, “No.., I can still feel him!”

“He sacrificed himself to stop Schmidt,” The doctor chuckled, “Quite heroic, don’t you think? But tragically pointless,”

You could barely breathe.

Steve was gone.

Maybe it was because you had never actually bonded with Steve, but you still felt him, deep down. It was small, but it was there.

“You have lost your bondmate, but you need not lose everything else,” Reinhardt chuckled, his snake-like eyes staring at you, “You see, I have great plans for you, Fraulein, you will be the first of many,”

You barely had time to register his words before he gestured to one of the soldiers. A syringe was placed into his palm, filled with an ominous, light blue coloured liquid. Reinhardt stepped forward and you began to thrash.

“Don’t you dare-”

“Don’t you worry, my dear. This is not the same as what was given to your sweet Captain America, I have added my own genius,”

The cold bite of the needle pierced the skin on your neck before you could scream. The next moments-

Pain.

Searing, burning pain.

You’re body convulsed as you arched off the table, a strangled cry ripping from your throat. Every nerve in your body ignited, blood turning to fire as the serum began to surge through your veins.

Through the blinding agony, the doctor leaned close, whispering the last thing she heard before the world turned back.

“Hail Hydra,”

It’s cold, like it always is.

Coming out cryo has that first few minutes of blindness, where your sight is trying to wake from the slumber. Your joints are rigid, your breath hitting you as you slump out of the cryo chamber and against the cold, concrete floor of the base. The handlers weren’t nice after all, they’d drag you to where they’d need you.

But it’s the smell that hits you before your eyesight returns.

Warm, like fresh apple pie that’s come out of the oven. The scent is mixed with fireworks and something like fresh cotton. It’s a scent you know well, backed up by the light scent of musk and pine that makes you feel suddenly comfortable.

When your eyesight returns, you scramble back into the wall near the cryo chamber. This wasn’t real, you were hallucinating, something that the handlers had given you no doubt. They were cruel, it wouldn’t be beyond them to do something like this.

“You’re not real,” You cry out, “You’re not real!”

“We’re real,” The deep voice almost makes you want to cry, eyes squeezing shut as you shake your head.

It’s not real.

“Open your eyes,” The voice is soft, deep and warm, “We’re real, dove,”

The nickname makes you slowly open your eyes, hair wet from the cryo chamber and sticking to your face. Two men are stood in front of you, the red and blue shield the first thing your eyes focus in on. The next thing is their faces, wore from time but there still the faces of the men you grow up with.

Bucky, older but unmistakably the same, his expression hard but soft when his eyes met hers. And Steve, standing behind him, his face frozen in a mask of disbelief.

“S-steve?” You whimpered out, “B-bucky..?”

A weakness sets into your bones, limbs shaking as you let out a wheeze. Bucky is in the one that steps forward first, gathering you up while Steve stares at you in shock, his blue eyes holding confliction as he watches you.

“She needs medical attention,” Bucky’s voice is starting to sound drowned out.

“What’s wrong with her?” Steve asks.

That’s all you hear before you pass out, darkness consuming you again.

—

It’s clinical, the place you wake up in.

It’s bright, your senses violated by anti-septic, alcohol and metal. You quickly sit up with a shock, panting as you look around the space. It’s not Hydra, it’s not a hospital, it’s fancy med bay with hologram screens and people all dressed in white.

The first thing that invades your senses is a smell that’s utterly alpha.

Your system floods with panic, like an instinctual reaction. There’s a doctor beside you, his hand reaches out and touches your arm, that’s when you fly to life.

You’re out of bed in minutes, lunging at the alpha. He lets out a girlish scream as you tackle him to the floor, grabbing the thing closest to you to swing at him. Only something wraps around your wrist and you get sent flying back into the wall.

“Calm down, Crazy Lady,”

The woman that greets you looks oddly familiar, but you can’t place who she looks like. She’s dressed in a doctor's coat, blue button-up up, and black slacks. Her hair is an inky black, pulled back in a messy bun. She smells like an omega, letting you relax the tiniest bit.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Tanya Stark,” She greets you, “How are you feeling?”

You stare at her before clearing your throat, “Stark..?”

“You probably knew my father, Howard Stark,” Tanya nods, “You’re very malnourished, you’ll be spending a few days with IV infusions and on oxygen,”

Your fingers fly to your face, where an oxygen tube is sitting below your nose. You also noticed the IV’s in your arms and monitors connected to your chest. Maybe you’d have been scared of needles once upon a time, but after all the years being the test subject of Hydra’s experiments, you’re just.. Numb.

“I need to ask,” Tanya questions, “When was the last time you remember waking up?”

Your answer comes out as a cough, “2014,”

She nods, “Well, it’s 2025 now,”

Nothing phases you anymore.

Tanya lets out a sigh before turning and returning to her work.

You stay in the med bay for five days, Tanya your only source of connection in this place. It’s not cold, thankfully, the nurses bring you warm blankets at night and your allowed to read up on all the changes that have happened in the world. The only people who come near you are omegas, something spoken by Tanya about not overwhelming your system.

On the sixth day, two men arrive at your room door.

Their scent is engraved into your memory, fireworks, fresh linen, and apple pie accompanied by musk and pine.

It’s Steve and Bucky.

The first time you met Steve and Bucky, you were eight years old, standing barefoot on the cracked pavement of a Brooklyn street in the middle of summer. The sun beat down on the city, heat shimmering off the asphalt, and the scent of hot bread and sugar from the nearby bakery filled the air.

You had just moved to the neighborhood with your father, a rough-around-the-edges alpha trying to start fresh after losing his mate, your mother. You didn’t know anyone and you weren’t sure you wanted to. Being omega meant being careful, even as a child.

But that day, two boys caught your attention.

The first one was small, thin as a rail with golden hair, and a determined look in his blue eyes. His clothes were a little worn, his shoes scuffed but he carried himself with stubborn confidence The second boy, taller and stronger looking, stood at his side with a cocky grin and looseness in his stance.

The smaller one smelt like apple pie fresh out of the oven, warm and comforting with just a hint of cinnamon. It wasn’t overpowering, but it made your stomach rumble and filled your chest with a strange sense of familiarity. The taller one smelled like pine, fresh and sharp, like the kind of deep forest you had only ever seen in books. It was grounding, making you feel steady.

That was the day you had made the most unlikely friendship with two young alphas.

Something stirs in you and it just makes you feel sick again, knees pulled to your chest as your filled with a warm feeling that only provides discomfort. It’s the scent of Steve that’s making you feel like this, your emotions conflicting with your instincts.

“Hey, Dove..,” Steve whispers as he walks into the room, Bucky close behind him.

You don’t say anything.

“Do you remember who we are?” Bucky’s deeper voice comes out next.

That makes you let out an exhausted laugh, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Do I remember you? Yes, I remember Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes, the two alphas I grew up with in Brooklyn, your moms used to get together every afternoon to listen to the latest episode of their radio shows while we played in the street,” It almost made you sob, “And I remember everything, from Bucky’s first horrible date with the beta girl that lived the floor below me, the day Steve had an asthma attack when we snuck onto the rooftop of the local bakery and..,”

Steve and Bucky are silent.

“I remember everything,” You cried, “I remember…everything,”

Everything. Absolutely every moment of horror from the past one hundred years.

“I’m not who you remember," You said, your voice hoarse. you couldn’t look at Steve.

Not yet. Not while the memories were still too vivid—the cold metal tables, the needles that dug too deep, the experiments that never stopped.

"We’re not the same either," Bucky replied quietly. "But we’re here now, You’re not alone anymore."

The words felt foreign to you, though they came from the lips of someone you had once trusted with your life. You felt your walls go up instinctively. Trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not after everything Hydra had done to you—everything they had put you through.

Steve was standing next to you up until now, his presence overwhelming. You could feel the pull of the bond, stronger than ever, but it felt suffocating. The knot in your chest tightened, and you took a step back, not daring to look at him.

"Don’t," You whispered. "Don’t make this harder than it already is."

"You don’t have to face this alone," Steve said, his voice gentle but persistent. "Whatever happened—whatever they did to you—we’ll face it together. I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge the bond-”

The mention of the bond makes your mouth taste sour.

“The bond?” You hissed, “You think I care about the bond that you’ve ignored it our whole life?!”

Steve doesn’t know what to say and Bucky remains silent, stoic.

“You might as well have rejected me!” You cried, “I’m so stupid. I waited years for you. I thought—”

You choke on the words, the pain raw and real.

Steve reaches out, but you flinch away. He's closer now, his presence like static in the air. His scent is so strong, something you craved to smell all those years in captivity but now taste like ash in your throat.

The sour, burning smell of your scent is flooding the room and it’s putting the two alphas on edge.

Steve’s eyes are pleading. “Please. We can fix this. We can still—”

“You don’t get it,” you cut him off, desperation leaking through your resolve. “The bond was all I had left. And they used it to break me.”

A shudder runs through you, and you turn away before he can see the hurt in your eyes. Hydra had tested it immediately, you don’t know how but they knew you had found your scent match.

The machine beside you starts beeping and both super soldiers jump in surprise as Tanya comes rushing in. For an omega, she’s determined, slapping her hand in the air and yelling at the two alphas.

“Get the hell out!”

Steve leaves instantly, withdrawing and sulking as he marches out of the room.

Your heart thundered in your chest, but the words didn’t bring you any peace. How could you trust him when you hadn’t even trusted yourself for so long? The years you had spent locked in that cold chamber had taken more from you than just your freedom. They had stolen your ability to feel safe, to believe that anyone could ever keep you safe again.

Bucky speaks before leaving the room, He knew the distance you needed. "We’re not asking for anything," he said softly. "We’re just here. If you need us… we’ll be here.”

–

The three of you sat on the fire escape of their Brooklyn apartment, the summer air thick with heat and the distant sounds of the city below.

Steve, still small and wiry, leaned back against the railing, his shirt sticking to his skin. Bucky lounged beside him, arms resting behind his head, while you perched on the edge, kicking your feet against the metal grating.

You three had been talking about the war—what else was there to talk about these days?—but the conversation had somehow shifted to omega bonds.

“You ever think about it?” Steve asked, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Having a mate?”

You huffed. “Of course I think about it. It’s not like I have much choice in the matter.”

Bucky snorted. “She makes a fair point, pal.”

Steve frowned, like he was puzzling something out.

“You’ll need a good alpha,” he mused. “Someone strong, someone who can take care of you.”

Bucky made a face. “Careful, Rogers. You’re starting to sound like an old-fashioned housewife.”

Steve ignored him, his brow furrowed in thought. Then his face brightened.

“What about Bucky?”

The silence was immediate.

Then—

“What?!” You blurted, looking at Steve like he had lost his mind.

Beside them, Bucky choked on a laugh.

Steve blinked, genuinely confused. “What? Bucky’s strong, he’s got a good job, he—”

“Steve,” You cut him off, voice dry. “I would rather throw myself into the Hudson than be bonded to Bucky.”

Bucky outright howled with laughter, clutching his stomach as he leaned back against the fire escape. “Oh, sweetheart, tell me how you really feel.”

Steve looked between the two of you, baffled. “But—”

You threw your hands up. “Steve, Bucky is Bucky. I’ve known him since we were kids! He’s like an annoying older brother.”

Bucky smirked. “I am older.”

You smacked his arm. “That’s not the point!”

Steve still looked like he didn’t understand. “But he’s a good alpha—”

“Steve,” You interrupted, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Bucky flirts with everything that breathes.”

Bucky grinned. “Not everything. I have standards.”

You shot him a glare before turning back to Steve. “Besides, just because an alpha is ‘strong’ or ‘good’ doesn’t mean they’re the right alpha.”

Steve still seemed unconvinced, but Bucky just clapped him on the shoulder.

“Face it, pal. She’s got taste.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just want you to be safe, that’s all.”

Her expression softened. “I know.”

Bucky smirked. “So if not me, then who?”

Your eyes flickered—just for a second—toward Steve.

But neither of them noticed.

Steve was too busy contemplating the idea of mate bonds like it was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, and Bucky was still laughing at his own rejection.

So you swallowed the feeling down, like you always did.

And the conversation moved on.

When your released from the medical bay, you feel lost. Steve had showed you to a room, in the compound, that doesn’t smell like anything at all. He had mumbled something along the lines of all rooms being sprayed with scent nullifiers but you weren’t paying attention.

Instead you’re looking outside the window, to the massive lake behind the compound. It reminded you of the Hudson River, which you could see from your apartment in Brooklyn all those years ago.

Everything was different, yet familiar. The forests around the compound bore the same deep green as the trees in Prospect Park, and your heart twinges at the thought. You wonder how long it will take to adjust to this new life, if that’s even possible.

The door creaks open, and you turn to see Steve again, his silhouette strong against the sterile light of the hallway. He hesitates for a moment, as if unsure of his welcome.

“Got you some new clothes,” he says finally, holding out a neatly folded bundle. “Figured you might need them.”

You nod in thanks, and he stands there awkwardly. There’s a kindness in his eyes, or maybe it’s pity. You can’t quite tell.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah,” you say instinctively. Because what else is there to say?

“My room is next door,” Steve states.

You know, you can smell the apple pie through the wall. You wouldn’t have been able to do that once, but now with whatever Hydra had done, you were able to do a lot of things.

“Where does Buck sleep?” You asked.

Just in case you needed him.

“Buck doesn’t live in the compound,” Steve explains with a slight tone, “He has a house further in land but still close, too many people are overwhelming and he only stays when he needs to,”

You nod.

“Dove..,” The pet name made your stomach twist, “I don’t know what you’ve been through but I’m here now,”

That makes you laugh, defensively. Steve didn’t know what you’d been through, of course he didn’t since the world had believed you and he were dead.

“Did you look for me when they pulled you from the ice?” You ask in a harsh tone.

“The military records said you went missing in action,”

Technically, they weren’t wrong.

“You didn’t feel me through the bond?” You bite at him, “I felt you, always, I felt that little sliver of life in the bond but then again, I’m the only one that ever felt the bond,”

“That is not true,” Steve’s voice is authoritative.

And the tone is what breaks open the flood gates.

“I loved you, Steve!” You screamed it, because it was finally coming out after a century.

You were tired of being the best friend. The one who was always there for him, following around that scrawny kid in Brooklyn before following the man he became into the front lines of the second world war. You had enough.

“I knew from the day I met you, that we were scent mates,” Now you couldn’t help but whispered, “But it didn’t matter, I wasn’t good enough,”

“That’s not true, you were more than enough, I just never had the instincts back then like I do now-”

“But you had the instincts for Peggy?” The words leave your mouth with a sour twist, “You paraded with her around the army camps, you held that fucking picture of her all the time and you still do! I was the first one there for you and yet I was the second choice, your own scent mate!”

Steve is firm when he talks, “I love you both, you and Peggy-”

“I loved you, Steven Grant Rogers,”

Loved.

The words hit Steve like a bullet, that bond in his chest cracking.

“I don’t know if I do anymore,”

He’s silent, his breath a soft mist in the winter air. You wonder if he can feel vibration of your pulse, the tremor behind your words.

“Don’t leave me like this,” Steve pleads, his voice dripping into cracks you thought sealed shut. “Not without—without telling me how to fix it.”

You yank away, feeling the loss of his touch like an open wound.

“What are you asking of me, Steve?” Your breath is cold as you speak.

“Stay,” He pleads out softly, “Stay, and we can figure this out,”

Tears fill your eyes before you quickly blink them back.

“I’m lost, Steve,” You confess, “I’m no-one anymore,”

“You are someone to me, to Bucky-”

“I don’t have a family, Steve, I’m not remembered by anyone,” You croak out, “What am I supposed to do?”

Steve falls into silence and you turn back to the window, just staring.

“There’s somewhere I need to show you,”

You didn’t say anything else and you weren’t exactly sure why you had gone with Steve in the first place. Maybe it’s the long suppressed omega instincts in you, softly tugging at you to follow Steve because he’s familiar.

After a long drive, you arrive at a familiar place with a hood, cap and sunglasses covering your face.

When you walk in the door, trailing behind Steve, you understand that it’s a museum.

The Smithsonian.

You hadn’t been allowed in this place back in the 30s and 40s. It had been rich, elite alphas and their omegas. A lot of restrictions in the 30s and 40s meant you couldn’t do a lot of things.

You followed Steve past multiple exhibits before you arrived at one.

Captain America.

Steve’s face was plastered everywhere, with pictures and scripts written on the wall. Pictures of Steve before and after the serum, feats in the war and of course, the uniforms of the Howling Commandos.

Your own uniform was on the right hand side of Steve’s, immortalised in this place. You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose, a flicker of remembrance and happiness igniting in your chest.

Of course, the army had given you a uniform befitting of an omega woman. A tight skirt and blouse that was no good on the front lines It had been a horrible thing to work in, no doubt lost to history. The uniform you wore as a member of the Howling Commandos hadn’t even been your own.

In your stubbornness, you had stolen a pair of Steve’s pants and one of Bucky’s shirts. The tan pants had been massive on you, requiring you to roll them up and tighten them around your waist. The black shirt that had once belong to Bucky had the sleeves cuffed at your elbows and tucked into your pants. The jacket had been your own, a leather one that reached your knees. The white band with the red cross on it attached to your sleeve, showing your position as a combat medic.

Steve’s voice broke you out of your trance.

“You never let me carry your bags,”

On your uniform, we’re three heavy bags that sat on your back, side and front.

“I needed it all, I wasn’t weak,” You whispered, “I couldn’t have you running off with half my medical supplies,”

Steve chuckled before he turned and walked, making you pull your eyes away from the uniforms.

The next section made your heart stop.

As soon as you walked in, you were greeted with a picture. It looked foreign, filled with deja vu as you stared at the black and white picture. It was you, from your first day at training, eyes twinkling and a warm smile on your face. Beneath it, was a plaque imprinted with your name and a few lines that caught your attention.

Childhood friend of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, one of the first omega female combat medics to work on the front lines during World War II. A brilliant and compassionate healer, she saved hundreds of soldiers, providing critical care during the most brutal battles. Her courage and selflessness set the standard for Omega service in combat and beyond.

The words hit you like a tidal wave. Your breath caught in your throat as you slowly stepped through the exhibit, reading each display. You had forgotten so much of who you had been, before Hydra, before the experiments and the changes. Yet, it was all here.

Originally a nurse serving on the front lines of World War II, life changed when this young omega female helped her childhood friend, Steve Rogers, rescue the 107th Division from a Hydra Base.

You continued to walk, the memories alive in your mind.

Becoming a combat medic and the only omega female member of the Howling Commandos, her bravery in battle zones and innovative techniques in helping injured soldiers was commendable for someone in the 1940s.

While women, especially omegas, were expected to stay home during the on going war, the legacy of this omega woman changed the tides of history. Not only a respected figure during the war, she became a symbol of omega and women’s strength.

You bit down on your cheek as you proceeded to read through the transcripts, describing certain fights, attacks and feats you at accomplished during the war. It’s the pictures that get you, flashing on a screen.

One of you, Steve and Bucky when you were children, sitting on the steps of the apartment building. The other is you, tending to a wounded soldier in the trenches of a battle field. The next is a video that brings tears to your eyes.

It was Steve, picking you up bridal style and basically throwing you into the air. Bucky is laughing beside you both, eyes still full of life. The voices in the video aren’t the best, but you remember the exact moment that they had been said in.

“Gotcha, Dove!”

“You know, you’re not the only one who can carry her now!”

The video ends with you squished between the two alphas.

The corner of your lip quirks up and you breath out shakily, blinking a few times. You’re almost scared to speak, afraid that if you do it would rupture the emotions and memories that have come flooding back to you.

“That was-” Your voice cracks, “That was my first day with you both,”

Steve is holding his breath beside you.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“It’s…” You trail off, voice faltering with emotion as you look around at the exhibit dedicated to you, “It’s unbelievable,”

“Do you see now?” Steve murmurs lowly, “You weren’t just someone to me, but to a lot of people,”

Your hands shake ever so slightly as you bite down on your lip, unable to tear your eyes away from the display. You aren’t a no-one, you’re a part of history.

But one thought spurs in your mind.

You had to find out the full extend of what Hydra had done to you.

—-

Bucky’s ‘room’ only smells very faintly of pine and musk, an obvious sign that he’s not here all that often. You managed to snag him after he came back from a mission, the alpha now standing with his arms crossed as he leans against the wall.

“What you want?” Bucky asks.

“I need to get back to that hydra base,” You state firmly.

“What?!” Bucky is taken aback before he moves, eyes squinting for a moment before he shakes his head, “No,”

“I need to know everything that they did to me!” You plead, “And I need to find out why..,”

You can see the conflict in Bucky’s eyes swirl, like a violent storm. If anyone is going to understand your emotions right now, it’s him.

“And we’re not telling Steve?”

“No..,” You mumble.

Once upon a time, Steve would have been your partner in crime, back in the 40s when the days had been easy. You spent most of your life hiding your bad decisions and reckless acts from Bucky.

Now?

Steve was the one you had to hide from.

“Fine,” Bucky agreed with a gruff voice, “We go tonight,”

As the cloak of night descended, you bided your time until the clock hands crept past ten. Only then, assured that Steve was deeply ensconced in slumber, did you silently slip out of your room. The hallway was dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls as you moved with careful stealth. Upon reaching the quinjet, you found Bucky already seated within, his silhouette barely visible in the low light. The quiet hum of the craft enveloped you as you entered, and Bucky's fingers deftly danced over the controls, the consoles coming to life with a soft glow.

“We doing this?” He asks.

You nod, taking your seat in the other pilot spot. You had no idea how this machine worked, hell, you barely knew how a car worked.

The jet started up, humming with power as Bucky prepared it for take off. Just as you had strapped yourself in, a deep voice sounded from behind you both.

“What the hell are you doing?”

If not for the straps, you probably would have fell out of your seat.

“Shit! Steve!” You yelled, turning and looking at Captain America.

He was in his suit, shield on his back as he stood with crossed arms. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to ignore the way your chest felt at the simple smell of his scent.

“Hydra base, huh?”

You glared at him before your gaze shifted to Bucky, who was refusing to meet your eyes.

“You told him!”

Bucky chuckles, shrugging like the troublemaker you’d always known. “You know I can’t keep secrets from Steve.”

“Especially dumb ones,” Steve added, stepping forward to take the third seat as the jet lifted off. You groaned but secretly felt a warmth spread in your chest. As much as you wanted to be mad, an old part of you knew this was how it had to be: the three of you, thick as thieves.

The city lights blurred below as Bucky flew fast and low, deftly navigating toward the Siberian Hydra hideout. The craft's interior fell silent except for the hum of engines and the occasional beep of navigation.

“So what’s the plan?” Steve asked after a while, glancing sideways at you. “Or were you going to make it up as you went?”

“That was the plan,” you shot back with a grin, “I’m just hoping to find records, anything that explains why I’m still here.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Bucky talks with fondness in his voice, “You were always our girl with a plan,”

You roll your eyes at his teasing words, settling into the journey ahead. You’re watching Bucky as the time passes, how he seems to easily be able to fly the jet.

“How do you do that?” You question, “There’s so many buttons and switches,”

Bucky shrugs, “It’s basically the same as driving,”

“Barnes,” You say firmly, “I don’t know how to drive,”

“You don’t know how to drive?” Bucky questions.

There’s a heart beat of silence before realization dawns on his face.

Steve speaks up, “Omegas weren’t allowed car licenses before the 1960s,”

“I completely forgot..,” Bucky mumbled.

“Didn’t stop me from trying,” You quipped up.

Steve laughs and it makes something warm in the pit of your stomach, “I remember that day, we got arrested!”

You can’t help but grin as the memory floats into your mind.

You grinned as you sat in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel of the old, beat-up truck that once belonged to Steve’s father.

“This is a terrible idea,” Steve muttered, gripping the dashboard like his life depended on it.

“Relax, I got this!”

“You do not got this,”

“Sure I do!”

“You’ve never driven before!”

You scoffed, “I’ve seen people drive,”

“That’s not the same thing!”

You ignord him, pressing your foot to the gas petal. The truck lurched forward with a violent jerk, sending Steve slamming back against his seat.

“Oh my god - brake!” Steve yelled.

You, panicked, pressed both feet down on the gas and the break. The truck screeched like it was about die, jolting forward in a horrifying stop-go motion.

“Foot off the gas!” Steve wheezed like he was about to have an asthma attack, “Foot off the gas!”

You slammed on the brake, the truck screeching to a full stop, sending you both flying forward. Steve had panted and wheezed, sweating like he was about to die.

“Okay, so maybe watching other people drive wasn’t quite enough,” You spoke, voice high pitched.

“Ya think?!” Steve wheezed.

A sharp knock on the driver’s side window made you both jump. You turned, seeing a very unimpressed officer in the fogged up window.

“We should run, huh?”

“Yeah..,”

Bucky is laughing, it’s soft but audible, “I remember bailing you two out of jail that day,”

And he was right. Steve had called Bucky, since they were only willing to release you to an alpha. Bucky had given you both a lecture as you walked home that night, while Steve vowed to never let you behind the wheel of a car again.

You turn to Steve, whose sitting with a fond look on his face. It’s almost as if you can feel his content through the bond. “How many times do you think he bailed us out of trouble?”

“Too many,” Steve chuckled, “Remember Mrs Calloway?”

Bucky groaned while you break into a smile, laughing as you spoke, “She lived above me! Bucky had to flirt with her after we broke her window,”

You and Steve fell into laughter while Bucky winced, remembering the horrid red haired old lady omega that owned too many cats.

“She was about to call the cops when Bucky waltz in, giving her a winning smile and sweet words,” Steve teased.

The other super soldier was shaking his head.

“And it worked!” You laughed as well, “She forgave us! Kept asking when my handsome alpha friend was coming back though,”

It feels calm, for once in your long life. It feels comfortable, as if time had passed and the three of you hadn’t changed from the long years of ice, trauma and battle.

Bucky’s voice makes you look at him, “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, Lottie can’t drive either,”

“Whose Lottie?” You question, confusion on your face.

“His girl,” Steve answers, almost hesitantly, as if testing the waters.

Bucky coughs, a bit of color coming to his cheeks. “Yeah, she’s... she’s swell.”

You blink at him, then burst into laughter when you see his embarrassed look. “Bucky Barnes, in a real relationship?”

He flicked a switch with exaggerated sternness. “I’ll have you know she’s a real catch. An omega like you, just not so battle hardened,”

“She’s gotta be tough if she’s mated to you,”

Steve is the one who talks, chuckling to himself, “She cried when Bucky stood on an ant,”

“Ah..,”

The flight continued with some soft banter and inside jokes before it broke into Siberia’s harsh winter, all three of you falling into silence as you approach the old hydra base.

An inkling of fear runs down your spine.

You all make our way in with ease, heading down the elevator. Steve’s scent is filled with worry, while Bucky’s scent is oddly dulled, like he’s trying to keep it toned down. The elevator goes down for what feels like an hour before it finally stops.

“They kept you hidden well,” Steve whispers, “We almost didn’t find this place,”

“That’s concerning,” You whispered back as you walked into the cryo room, “They never told me what they wanted me for, only that I was going to be the first of many,”

Steve’s scent flares and it almost makes you step towards him. Almost.

You walk through the hallway, peering into dusty rooms filled with defunct machines. The air is stale, and the fluorescent lights flicker dimly.

“You think they left anything?” Bucky asks, fingers brushing against the wall as if expecting it to crumble at his touch.

“They left me,” you say quietly. “Maybe there’s more.”

Steve moves to your side, his presence reassuring, like a promise that you’re not alone in this search or whatever revelations it might bring. “We’ll find something.”

The three of you press on, your breath visible in the frosty air. The deeper in you get, the colder it becomes. It’s like dredging through memories—you know there’s something important here; you just have to find it.

When it comes to walking down the hallway filled with cells, unused in many, many years but the place is still filled with the stench of old blood. You let out a deep exhale, grounding yourself as you continue on.

You come upon a large room filled with file cabinets and old computers. Some papers are scattered on the ground, forgotten relics of Hydra’s meticulous record-keeping.

“This looks promising,” Steve says as he kicks a pile of papers.

You don’t say anything while Bucky walks over to one of the computers, typing away. Your attention is on the files, quickly sifting through them before something catches your eyes.

Omega 01 and Alpha 42.

You know yourself as Omega 01. After all, you were the first of their experiments and the only one that had survived.

Steve’s voice makes you look up, “What does that say?”

“Проект Омега,” Bucky answers as he types on the computer, “Project Omega, I had no idea about this,”

“You never figured it out?” Steve asks.

“No,” Bucky’s voice is strained, “But from what’s here, they did a lot,”

You turn your attention back to the file, opening it. What’s inside makes your heart stop, eyes wide as you look at the pictures.

“B-bucky?” You croak out.

Bucky and Steve both stand at attention as you turn around, looking between them both before looking down at the file. There’s a picture of yourself, in cryo, along with a picture of Bucky from the war.

“O-omega 1..,” You barely get out, “And Alpha 42, known as Sargeant James Buchanan Barnes, The Winter Soldier..,”

Steve and Bucky are both crossing the room, taking their places at your side.

“U-under no circumstances are Omega 01 and Alpha 42 to come into direct contact,” You whisper, “Any potential interaction is to be prevented through strict scheduling, separate holding areas and minimal personnel overlap. Should either subject show signs of recognition, immediate memory suppression protocals will be enacted..,”

Bucky snatches the file from your hands while you can’t help but fall back into Steve, who holds you in place. His scent is only the smallest bit calming, only leaving you steady enough to not collapse to the floor.

“They knew,” You whined out.

“They kept us apart on purpose..,” Bucky whispers.

Hydra had known. Hydra had known you would both recognize each other if you came into contact and it would have ruined their perfectly crafted system.

Niether of them stop you when you grab another file, quickly throwing it open and reading it out loud.

"At the reappearance of Steve Rogers, Omega 01 is to be prepped for intense conditioning and forced bond manipulation with Alpha Agent Rumlow..," Your stomach dropped, "Omega 01's scent bond with Captain America makes her the perfect weapon against..,"

Your voice died out before you could continue.

Grief, guilt and fury hit your system, tears filling your eyes as you clung onto Steve’s arms. He was silent but comforting, letting you sob into his uniform.

The tears stream down your face, each drop a release of years of buried emotions that have finally burst through the dam. Your chest heaves with the unfamiliar sensation, a shock to your system after such a long time of keeping everything locked away. Bucky and Steve move swiftly, gathering up the scattered files with a sense of urgency, and you make your way back to the jet, feeling raw and exposed.

Steve guides you to a seat, gently helping you curl up as he fastens the seatbelt around you. He drapes one of the jet’s soft, gray blankets over your trembling form, tucking it around your shoulders with care. You sit there silently, your eyes glazed and distant, and he notices the fading trace of your usual vanilla scent, almost as if the essence of you is slipping away. Your silence is unsettling, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy you usually exude, and Steve watches with concern as you seem to retreat into yourself, the emotional toll evident in your hollow gaze.

The curse of remembering is a heavy one.

When you all arrive back at the compound, you’re a bit more yourself. The flight let you process some of the emotions and realizations you had come to, but you can smell the unease between Bucky and Steve.

Something brewed while you were out of it.

There was a bit of tension as you three stepped off the quinjet. Your mind was racing with the little you had read while at the hydra base, while Steve held an air of authority around him.

Bucky was just annoyed.

“You two are never pulling this again,” Steve announced.

“Really?” You huffed, looking at him, “Not exactly the first time we’ve stormed a hydra base without telling anyone,”

Steve gives you a pointed look that only makes you roll your eyes. Maybe, back in the day, you’d have shifted under such a look. But after the past one hundred years?

Not likely.

“Give her a break,” Bucky talks, making the stare end, “She deserves to know what happened,”

“Why are you enabling her?” Steve argues.

“She’s not weak, Steve, she never has been,” Bucky argues back.

Steve stands his ground, “You took her to a hydra base! She completely shut down!”

“Well, isn’t it a good thing you came then?”

You’re used to this, although you haven’t been in one of these situations in one hundred years. Even when Steve had been that sickly, scrawy kid in New York, it never stopped his alpha instincts from clashing with Bucky’s.

You expect nothing less now.

“I’m not saying she can’t handle herself, Buck,” Steve insists, though his voice strains like he’s convincing himself more than you. “I just want you both to be safe.”

“We got out, didn’t we?” Bucky shrugs, unfazed.

You speak up, but it gets ignored, “Can you two stop having a knot fight for two moments?”

“Not the point,” Steve counters, his tone getting deeper as his words come out in a demand, “Never do that again,”

The sound that erupts from Bucky's throat is raw and untamed, echoing through the hangar with an intensity that commands immediate silence. It's a primal, feral snarl, resonating with the authoritative power of an alpha. The deep, guttural sound vibrates through his chest, spilling into the air with an undeniable demand, shaking the very atmosphere as it asserts its dominance.

You had only heard Bucky snarl like that two times in your life, both times during the war. It doesn’t shake you, because plenty of alphas in your captivity had used their snarl on you. Steve is taken aback just a smidge, but he still stands strong.

It’s a sob that breaks the tension between the three of you.

Bucky snaps to attention, like someone just stabbed him in the chest.

“Shit,”

There’s a woman standing at the door of the hanger, blonde hair with loose curls and a light yellow sundress on her body. She’s tiny, all soft curves and gentle features, her bright green eyes glassy as she’s frozen in place.

Bucky’s rushing towards her before you can process it, apologies spilling from his lips.

“Whose that?” You ask, looking up at Steve.

“Lottie,” Steve sighs, “Bucky’s mate,”

“That’s Lottie?”

Your heart twists as you watch them, Bucky wrapping his arms around her small frame, murmuring into her hair. He holds her like she’s the last pure thing in a tainted world, and you can’t help but feel the sting of it. You’re surprised at how much it bothers you; after all, you’ve missed so much in the world and now, seeing such a gentle relationship between an alpha and omega? It makes you envious of something you might never have with Steve.

Steve’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

You glance at him, catching the earnestness in his eyes. He’s always been like this: stubborn as hell but with a heart too big for his own good.

“Don’t,” you say softly, shaking your head. “You know I would’ve dragged Buck there with or without your blessing.”

He huffs a reluctant laugh. “He’s been different since he found her.”

You chuckle, hands shoved into your jacket, “We all know the type of alpha Bucky is, he’s been waiting for her a long ass time,”

Both you and Steve glance over to where Bucky is now leading Lottie out of the hanger, his flesh arm protectively encased around his mate’s little body.

“Thanks for your help, Buck!” You called out in a teasing manner.

All you get in response from Bucky is a metal, middle finger.

—-

You don’t see Bucky after that, Steve mentions something along the lines of him taking a brief leave for Lottie’s sake. You don’t mind, after all, your mind is occupied going through the hydra files.

Most of them had been uploaded to the system, Steve had collected a USB that had downloaded all of the computer data from the base. You hadn’t touched that yet, technology still a bit too new for you to approach.

It’s another late night, fueled by luke warm coffees as you sit in your room, going through the files.

Omega 01:

Results: Serum successfully bonded with subjects physiology, enhancing strength, agility and endurance. Notably, subject displays rapid cellular regeneration - a trait not present in other super solider subject,

Conclusion: Subject is viable.

You dropped that file and opened the next one.

Test 01: Strength Capacity

Procedure: Subject instructed to lift progressively heavier weights

Results: Lifted 850 lbs before muscle fatigue.

Notes: Further training may increase output. Subject resisted participation - required sedation for compliance.

Test 2: Reflex and Speed

Procedure: Subject placed in a controlled combat simulation against six trained Hydra operatives.

Results:

Subject incapacitated all operatives in under 47 seconds.

Reflex response increased by 340% compared to baseline.

Subject demonstrates hyper-awareness in combat.

Notes: Subject refused to kill. Further conditioning recommended.

Test 03: Healing Factor Examination

Procedure: Subject exposed to controlled injuries to assess regeneration speed.

Results:

Lacerations (3-inch, deep cut): Healed within 40 seconds.

Fractured radius (left arm): Healed within 4 minutes, 12 seconds.

Bullet wound (non-lethal, shoulder): Healed within 9 minutes, 38 seconds.

Organ damage (induced via controlled blunt force trauma): Partial regeneration observed in under 20 minutes.

Notes: Healing surpasses previous subjects. Subject regains consciousness quickly after trauma. Further tests required to determine limits.

You slap the file shut and place your head in your hands. You remember the tests, most of them. It was no doubt a trauma defense, the ones that you had forgotten.

When you open the file again, your guts twist and your scent turns burnt.

Test 07: Omega Bond Manipulation.

Instead of reading, you close the file.

A knock on your door makes you jump, before you call for the person to come in. You already know who it is, Steve’s scent cutting into the air like it always does.

He enters, hesitating at the threshold when he sees the scattered files and the look on your face. For a moment, neither of you speak. He takes a step forward, brow creased with concern.

“You shouldn’t be doing this alone,” he says gently, settling into the chair next to you.

“I need to know what they did,” you admit, shoving the papers into a neat stack as if organizing them would somehow organize your thoughts.

Steve’s hand covers yours, steady and warm. “We can go through it together.”

You could argue with him, tell him you don’t need help. But the truth is—maybe you do. Maybe just not in the way he thinks. Your eyes also settle on where his hand is on yours, at first you think to pull it away but then you settle, letting yourself and him have this small bit of comfort.

“Found anything?” he asks, picking up one of the reports.

“Some,” you say, trying to sound unaffected. “Most of it I remember.”

There’s a pause as Steve skims a few lines, his expression shifting from curiosity to anger. You watch him read for a moment before he quickly puts the file down.

“You don’t have to read these,” You confess, “I actually feel like you shouldn’t,”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s going to hurt,”

Silence fills the space as Steve stares at the files while you look up at him. The determination on his face hasn’t change a bit but you can see how the years have affected him.

He’s rougher now.

“I can handle it,” He reassures you.

“No,” You grab a file before he can touch it, “No.., just ask and I’ll tell you,”

“Dove-”

“I can handle it, Steve,” Your eyes drop to the little wooden table, trying to ignore his pet name for you.

Steve is silent before he asks the first question, “Are you like me?”

“Yes,” You utter out, “Stronger, faster but I heal quicker than you, I can also heal other people,”

His brows shift in confusion, the scent in the air stirring with confusion and curiosity. Of course, you tell him.

“It was the serum they gave us,” You speak slowly, “I don’t know how they did it but the serum they gave us reacted with the omegas systems, it’s like it was a side affect, all the omegas came out with something different if they survived, mine is an advanced healing factor that I can project onto others,”

“How advance are we talking?” He inquires.

“I can take a bullet to the skull and recover in four hours,”

Steve’s face twists in discomfort to the point that you can feel it. Something about being close to him again has you feeling every bit of him, physically and mentally. Or, maybe it’s the serum that’s enhanced both your alpha and omega instincts.

“That’s why they held onto you,” Steve whispers, covering his eyes with his hand “Jesus Christ, if they had conditioned you like they did with Bucky-”

“They couldn’t,”

He looks up from his hand, eyebrows raised. You picked up one of the files, slowly opening it before reading.

“Neural Conditioning, subject exposed to electroshock therapy alongside subliminal messaging to induce compliance. Regenerative properties counter neural conditioning, healing the brain before conditioning can be complete. Full mind-wipe unlikely to be effective,”

Steve’s jaw is tight, his scent thicker now as he takes in your words. You slowly close the file and place it down on the table, his alpha pheromones filling the room as you do so.

You do the only thing you can think of, gently placing your hand on his knee.

“I’m still me, Steve,” you reassure him. “I remember everything.”

He places his hand over yours. There’s something in his eyes—a mixture of hope and fear—that makes your chest tighten.

“I didn’t know,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought… you died after the war,”

“I thought you were dead too,” you finish for him, the words bitter and heavy.

“I would have never stopped looking for you if I’d known,” he insists, leaning closer. His scent is overwhelming now, wrapping around you like a promise.

You want to tell him everything—how each escape attempt was fueled by the thought of him, how every day you held onto the idea that he was out there somewhere. But instead, you take a steadying breath and withdraw your hand, breaking the contact before it can overwhelm you both.

“Looks like we’ve got a lot to catch up on.” He tries for a smile, but it’s strained.

—

You find the sparring room one day, when you had managed to pull yourself away from the hydra files and give your mind some space to breath. The room is lined with soft, blue mats that cover the entire floor, creating a cushioned area for training. Along the walls, an impressive array of sparring weapons is displayed, each one meticulously arranged, from wooden staffs to gleaming swords. Surprisingly, it doesn’t smell as bad as you expected.

Steve is there, along with a man you’ve come to know as Sam Wilson. As you watch from the side lines, you can see how Steve is holding back, pulling his punches to not harm Sam.

When the two men come to a halt, panting and wiping the sweat off their faces, you swallow thickly. Your senses are so in tune with Steve’s scent, it’s the only thing you can smell. It’s all fresh apple pie mixed with fireworks and fresh cotton, that’s so strong you almost lean into it.

But years of fighting alpha scents snaps into place and you stay put.

“So, you’re the lady wonder we’ve all heard so much about,” Sam’s teasing voice cuts through the air and snaps you out of your gaze on Steve.

“Not much of a lady wonder,” You shrug, “Just a person,”

“I’ve read about you,” Sam chuckles, “So, you got any hidden talents like stars and stripes over here?”

You shrug, standing up and stepping onto the mat. Steve looks worried but he knows, he knows the type of person you are. Even before Hydra, you weren’t someone who backed down when challenged.

“Omegas weren’t taught self defense during the war because we were expected to be kept in the camps and tending to the men,” You explain as you roll up your sleeves, “I didn’t stay in the camps so Steve taught me how to fight back then,”

Sam nods, impressed, “You broke a lot of stereotypes back then,”

Your eyes float over to Steve, “Are you going to stop holding back?”

Steve purses his lips as he steps back onto the mat. He stands tall, chuckling to himself for a moment and you fell the flare of unease in his scent.

“I’m holding back,” Steve confesses, “Because I’m not a man who hurts his mate,”

Your eyebrow raises, “Not even if she hurts you first?”

“Not even then,”

“Well,” you say, settling into a stance, “consider this a lesson in equality.”

It’s the last thing you say before you lunge. Steve is quick to recover, his instincts sharp, and he meets your advance with a practiced block. But the years haven’t dulled your own abilities. You pivot gracefully, using your speed to get behind him.

Sam lets out an appreciative whistle as Steve spins to face you again.

“Nice moves,” Sam laughs. “I’ve never seen anyone make Cap sweat like that.”

You don’t have time to respond as Steve comes at you again, this time with more determination. Each punch and swing of his arm feels like he’s testing boundaries, gauging how far he can go without pushing too much. You weave through his attacks, staying just out of reach, until finally you see an opening and take it.

Steve doesn’t react in time to you punching him in the gut and you forget to hold back the full force of your fist.

Sam steps back as Steve is sent flying across the room, while you stand in slight shock. You were very strong, yes, you had figured that out during the years of captivity. But knocking Steve down? It was easier than you had thought.

Steve stayed down, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling as if deep in thought. Sam’s voice broke through the brief silence, full of awe and laughter.

“Cap, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, still sounding stunned. “Just… catching my breath.”

You blinked and took a step back. The guilt settled in your gut, but there was a thrill too. Steve sat up slowly, pushing himself to his feet with a groan that was all pain. Like clock work, you walk towards him and kneel on the floor beside Steve.

He lifts his shirt, revealing a harsh bruises that’s starting to bloom over his rips and sternum. From what you can tell, you broke his rips.

“Shit, man, you need to go to Tanya,” Sam says.

It’s instinct or muscle memory, you’re not sure which one, but you put your hand on the injury. The familiar warmth floats over your body, first in your chest and then down your arm. The bruise is fading away, Steve’s rips setting back into place and then nothing.

It’s as if the injury never happened.

Steve’s hand falls to his torso, smoothing over the skin to take in the fact that you had really healed him. You had told him, he knew that but it was strange seeing it in person. You watch him process it, the way his breath catches slightly. There’s admiration in his eyes now, a fierce pride that mingles with the instinctual warmth of an alpha being proud of his omega.

“Well,” Sam’s voice makes you look up at the other hero, “That’s.. something,”

“I can’t bring someone back from the dead,” You confess, “But I can do some small miracles,”

“What the hell did they give you?” Sam asks.

“I have no idea,” You look down at the floor, “Some version of the serum, I wasn’t the only one who showed signs of enhanced abilities,”

Steve’s head snaps up as you both stand, “There were others?”

“Twenty Seven,” You nod, “They didn’t survive,”

Steve and Sam share a look, the alpha and beta instincts of understanding passing through them. You cough awkwardly, a sharp pain in your side that you ignore. It wouldn’t be a good idea to tell them about the certain fall backs of your abilities.

It wasn’t worth it. You’d heal anyway.

“Anyway,” You clap your hands, “I’m going to go back to my room,”

As you turn and begin to walk back to the door, Steve calls.

“Be ready by five!”

You glance a look over at him, eyebrow raised in question.

“Asking me on a date, Rogers?”

“Bucky invited us over for dinner,”

—

You hadn’t really been to many places since being pulled from the hydra base. You stayed at the Avenger’s compound or occasionally took walks along the lake, but that was about it. When Steve had mentioned that Bucky lived in his own home, you hadn’t been sure what to expect.

Bucky and his mate lived in a large house tucked away in the woods, somewhere peaceful and quiet. The house, a large, warm-looking structure made of stone and wood, blending naturally with its surroundings. It was inviting, but also secluded.

As you step out of the car, you couldn’t help but feel the mixture of curiosity and hesitation. Bucky hadn’t really been open about Lottie, other than that brief conversation in the quinjet and the glance you got of her in the hanger.

Steve steps next to you, his apple pie scent calming your nerves slightly.

“Don’t worry, your going to love Lottie,” Steve speaks calmly, like he knows your worried about being accepted by someone so close to Bucky.

“What if she hates me?” You ask.

“I don’t think Lottie is capable of even feeling hate,” Steve chuckles.

You both approach the front door, only for it to be swung open right as you step onto the porch. It’s decorated with hanging plants and even a swing, which is covered in soft pillows and a plush looking throw blanket. Bucky is standing at the door, a comfortable smile on his lips as he greets you both inside.

The first thing you notice is the warmth. It’s not a temperature but an atmosphere thing, like you’ve stepped into another plane of existence that’s simply peaceful. Cozy. The house is decorated with a mix of modern comforts and rustic charm. There’s music playing from somewhere in the house, which you instantly recognize as Ella Fitzgerald, singing ‘I can’t give you anything but love’.

“Lottie!” Bucky calls but it’s not demanding, it’s respectful and loving.

A soft voice responds from the kitchen, “I’m coming!”

You don’t know what to think when Lottie appears in the doorway, a small smile on her face. She’s tiny compared to the three of you, barely up to Bucky’s chest. But she’s all soft curves in the cozy red henley that’s definitely too big for her, paired with loose fitting jeans.

But her entire aura is soft and genuine and she smells like plums and freshly baked bread.

“Hello,” Her voice is also soft as Bucky tucks her close to his side, “I’m Lottie,”

Your name falls from your lips and she smiles, beams happily. Bucky is staring down at her like she hung the damn stars in the sky.

“Oh!” She turns from Bucky’s grip and rushes back towards the kitchen before coming back, something wrapped up in some brown paper.

She passes it to you, making you hesitantly take it from her hands. Omegas used to give gifts to each other, something you’ve noticed isn’t done as much these days. It was a way to form bonds with others.

The scent of the package hits you first and you soften.

“Pumpkin bread?” You whisper.

“Bucky said it was your favourite,” Lottie smiles warmly.

A sense of gratitude and familiarity sink into your chest. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so sweet for you. Pumpkin bread had been something your mother made before she died, you always bought it from the bakery down the street. Steve and Bucky used to tease you for it, but it always made you feel at home.

“T-thank you..,”

Steve’s hand rests on your shoulders and for once, you don’t shy away from him. Because the moment feels right, surrounded by them with Steve standing proudly behind you.

“You’re welcome.” Lottie’s voice is sincere, and she radiates a warmth that puts you at ease.

“Come on,” Bucky says, pulling Lottie back beside him. “I’ll give you the tour.”

They lead you through the house, Steve’s familiar presence at your side. The rooms are filled with the kind of love you didn’t think was possible, each one thoughtfully adorned with memories and personal touches. The only room you don’t go near is the nesting room, which is understandable. It’s a sacred place, only for the omega and alpha it belongs to.

There are pictures lining the walls, some old and faded, of Bucky and Steve from what must be decades ago, others more recent, capturing Bucky and Lottie in moments of pure, unguarded joy.

Lottie points to a picture with a soft laugh. “This was when James got his hair caught in the door.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but smiles affectionately. “You don’t need to tell them everything.”

The whole place is like a cocoon of happiness. You can imagine them here, living a life that’s simple.

When you all sit down for dinner, you can tell it’s made with love. The table is long and wooden, covered in mismatched plates and cups that makes it feel lived in. Candles flicker at its center, completing the cozy picture.

You have to give prompts to Lottie, making enough that completely feeds three super soldiers and herself.

After the meal is finished, the four of you sit at the cleared table while Steve and Bucky pour whiskey for themselves and you. Lottie scrunches her nose at the alcohol while Bucky chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t like it until it was the only thing we could get in the war,” You confess.

“Alcohol isn’t my thing,” Lottie nods softly.

“Omegas weren’t even allowed to drink alcohol before the war,” Steve points out, “Didn’t stop you,”

“I wasn’t allowed to do a lot of things but I still did them,” You shoot back, “Remember how pissed off the general got when you wanted me in the howling commandos?”

Bucky laughs at the memory, shaking his head. “The guy almost popped a blood vessel.”

“And then I saved his life,” You shrug, a sly grin pulling at your lips.

“Sounds like you,” Lottie’s voice is amused, and her smile is something like admiration.

The conversation flows easily between you all. You’d forgotten what it was like to have this, friendly banter and the feeling of family. Steve leans back in his chair, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in ages, while Bucky and Lottie sit close enough that they’re almost one person.

For the first time since getting to the compound, you feel like you might actually be able to make a home somewhere.

Lottie brings out a tin of cookies she insists are only for dessert emergencies. You consider the evening one of those emergencies and eat more than your fair share.

Eventually, it’s time to go and when you settle back into the car with Steve driving, a sinking feeling sets in your body.

Could you have what Bucky and Lottie have, with Steve?

As if sensing your doubt, Steve speaks up.

“You smell sad,” He points out, “What’s going on?”

“They’re so..happy,” You mumbled out.

He’s silent for a moment, “You know.., we could have that,”

But that’s the thing. Maybe you would have wanted that life with Steve, back when you were young and not traumatized by the world. Once upon a time, it would have been your dream, to be bonded to Steve while making a home together. But it’s not possible anymore.

“I don’t think we can, Steve,” You whisper.

“Why are you fighting this?” Steve asks in a demand and you fight back the urge to hiss at him.

“Why?” You ask, “Maybe because I turned into some freak by an organisation that wanted to use me as a weapon! Maybe because the alpha I loved, even before all this, was going to bond to another omega! While ignoring me!”

Steve shakes his head as he drives, “I would have realized eventually,”

“When?” You turn and glare at him, “After the war? Or ten years later after you’ve got a family? Or maybe when I finally left for London?”

“London?!”

You fall silent, lips pursing. You hadn’t meant to confess it, what your plan was going to be after the war ended. But it hurt, seeing how Steve had clung onto Peggy, hearing him talk about how he was going to ask to be her mate when they’d ended the war. With the strength you had left, you had accepted an offer to go to London, after the war and train nurses.

“You were going to London?” Steve asks, like it’s an accusation, pain in his voice, “And not tell me?”

“It was none of your business,” You argue back.

“Who knew you were going?” He demands.

“..Bucky,”

The faint crackle of the fire is all you can focus on, sitting on the rough floor of the woods. Its glow flickered off the canvas tents, dancing in the night.

Bucky sat across from you, wrapped up in a black and his face gaunt. War had done things to the both of you, it was a hellhole at the best of times but you made it through.

As a medic, you watched over the men. You made sure they were fine, physically and mentally. But that night, you were losing your grip while Bucky was the one watching you.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you looking like someone kicked your damn puppy?” Bucky’s voice was rough but laced with concern.

You stifled a laugh, “Not everything’s about me, Buck,”

“You saying that means it definitely is,”

Bucky could read you so damn well, sometimes it was unsettling. You hesitated, stared at the fire but the coldness in your chest didn’t defrost.

Finally, you spoke.

“I’m going to move to London,”

Bucky blinked, “The hell you are,”

You gave him a pointed look, “I mean it,”

“What? When the war is over?” He asked, brows furrowed.

You nodded slowly, exhaled before explaining yourself, “They offered me a position, training nurses,”

There was a beat of silence.

“I can’t stay here,”

“This about Steve?” He asked lowly, like it was a curse.

You stiffened but didn’t answer. Bucky already knew, he had seen how you trailed after Steve while he was on his ambitious path, being the perfect man of America.

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair, “You don’t have to do this,”

“Yes, I do,”

Your voice remained steady but your hands had curled into fists in your lap.

“I’ve spent my whole life following him,” You murmured, “Waiting for him to see me. And now, I watch him look at her and I just..I can’t do it, Bucky,”

You could tell Bucky was torn, between supporting you or defending his other best friend.

The smile you forced onto your face didn’t reach your eyes, “She makes him happy. and I want him to be happy,”

“What about you?” Bucky studied you as he spoke, the firelight casting sharp shadows over his face.

“I’ll be fine,” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“That doesn’t mean you should have to leave your whole damn life behind!”

“I can’t stay here and watch him choose someone else. I just can’t,”

Bucky stared at you for the longest moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then he exhaled, standing and walking across the camp fire to tuck the blanket around your shoulders.

“Alright, if that’s what you gotta do,”

The rest of the car ride home was tense silence.

—

A week passed.

You do your best to avoid Steve and he gives you space. It’s not what you want, but it’s what you need.

You think about what Bucky said during that long-ago conversation, about leaving your whole life behind. It’s funny how it happened anyway. Everything you knew was burnt to ash with Steve when he disappeared into the ice.

When he sees you now, sometimes he looks like he’s still sinking. You won’t let him drag you under too.

But it’s when your in the kitchen one morning, making yourself a cup of coffee, that everything goes to hell.

It starts subtly, a dull ache in your abdomen and your body starts to heat. You’d spent some time in the sparring room so you write it off as muscles aches at first, but when you step around the counter and go to walk towards the table, the fever hits.

Like a tidal wave, the fever encompasses your whole body and you fall to the floor. The coffee cup smashes on the ground as you cry out, your body going stiff as the full affect of your heat suddenly hits you.

You hadn’t had one in years, you couldn’t even remember that last time your body had naturally gone into heat.

Before, they always forced it with drugs and pheromones.

You cry out for help.

Your voice is already cracking and it’s Steve who rushes into the kitchen, worry etched onto his face as his eyes fall on you.

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath before rushing to your side and crouching down next to you, “It’s okay, I’m here,”

“No, no, no,” You protest weakly when he reaches for you.

His scent hits you, apple pie that’s so strong you can taste it on your tongue. Only it doesn’t sooth you, it doesn’t do anything to help the heat. Instead you feel yourself get hotter and a wave of sickness rolls over your body.

“Hey,” Steve’s hands come in contact with your arms and that’s when everything turns white.

Your body locks up and you start seizing, Steve in utter shock as he watches your body tremble on the floor. He doesn’t know how to help, hands flinching back as your scent is sour, burnt and putrid in the air.

Multiple medics rush forward and he’s forced backwards, panic flooding his system.

“She’s my omega-!”

“Get away from her, Rogers!” Tanya’s voice demands authority despite her omega status, stepping in front of him as her team of nurses and doctors rush you away.

“Tanya, she’s in heat,” He snaps.

“And your not touching her unless you want her to die, Steven,”

—

Steve approaches Tanya that afternoon, finding her looking over one of the containment cells. You lay there, tubes and wires attached to your body. But your asleep, completely out of it while Tanya is fiddling with her tablet.

He can’t smell your scent anymore as the cell was designed to block pheromones and scents from lingering in the air.

Steve has the utmost respect for the omega doctor. Tanya is Tony’s younger sister, the more level headed out of the two Starks. She spent years as a doctor, biologist and was the leading researcher of medical intervention for enhanced individuals.

If anyone can help, it’s Tanya.

“Is she going to be okay?” Steve asks first, his eyes staying locked on your body.

“She will be,” Tanya answers with a sigh, “Had to pump her with enough suppressants to kill an elephant and I still am, her healing factor makes normal doses of anything ineffective,”

Steve nods, “She’s always been stubborn,”

“I’m still trying to figure out what it is that hydra put into that serum they gave her put..,” Tanya placed her tablet down on a table, turning to Steve, “Some things don’t heal, Steve,”

He looks at Tanya, concern in his eyes, “What do you mean?”

“She’s been through a lot and she remember a lot,” Tanya pointed out.

“I know that,” Steve states, “What happened to her, Tanya?”

The omega doctor stares him dead in the eyes, “It’s a biological response, she went into heat but as soon as your alpha pheromones were presented, it triggered,”

“Triggered what?”

“A response..,” Tanya began, “That only happens when an omega has been sexually assaulted,”

Anger, no, Wrath settled in Steve’s chest.

“Repeatedly,”

That’s the word that breaks his demeanor, Steve marches away and grabs the closest thing. A table full of medical supplies gets sent into the wall, Tanya would have ripped into him in any other scenario but instead she’s silent, watching as he inhales and exhales deeply.

She knows it’s not enough to calm him. Steve remembers the first time he saw you after you were freed, how broken you’d looked. Damn it. He should have known. He should have done something.

Tanya finally speaks, softer, “Steve, she needs time.”

He looks up, a flash of desperation in his eyes. “How do I help?”

“Let her heal, don’t force the bond,” Tanya tells him, “Give her support, she needs companionship before she needs a mate,”

—

Your heat lasts six days before your body finally settles and the sedatives are wearing off. You’re barely conscious when it finally ends, bleary eyes taking in the hospital cell. You don’t notice much of the omega doctors that come in and check on you before leaving.

But in the compound, Steve is quietly waiting. He’s waiting for Tanya to give him the go ahead, saying that your fine to have an alpha around. After that discussion with the doctor, Steve knew you needed more, you needed something that wasn’t just him.

When Tanya gives him the go ahead, he stands patiently at the doctor to the cell.

You look a little bit better, still pale with IV’s attached to your arm but your sitting up, munching on a slice of pumpkin bread that no doubt, Lottie had sent you.

“Hey,” He whispers.

“Hey..,” You whisper back, voice hoarse.

“I got something for you,” Steve confesses.

You smirk, weakly, “I’m not accepting a damn wedding ring, Steve,”

He chuckles, it’s a low sound but you can hear it. For once, you aren’t assaulted by his usual scent. It’s as if he’s using scent blockers.

Steve whistles and you raise an eyebrow, before something walks up beside him. It’s a dog, standing to his knee. A big fluffy, golden retriever with a blue and white collar around it’s neck.

The dog sniffs the air before it marches up to you, sitting beside the hospital bed and waiting patiently.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the dog, now wagging his tail eagerly beside you.

“You.. got me a dog?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, heart warmed at how you looked at the animal, “I thought he might help you, his name’s Captain,”

Even you chuckle at the name before reaching out your hand, gently patting the dogs head. It leans into your touch before jumping up, tail wagging and laying his head in your lap.

As if sensing your hesitation, Captain nuzzles your hand again with a gentle whine, clearly asking for attention.

You start to pet his ears before softly scratching the top of his head.

“Hey, there, Captian,” You whispered, slowly relaxing, “What’s your story, huh?”

Steve takes a step closer, keeping his voice low, “He’s a service dog, Dove. He’s trained to help omegas with anxiety and PTSD, he’s here to help,”

You glance up at Steve, eyes glistening slightly. There’s a vulnerability around you but Steve doesn’t push, he stays in his place.

There’s a subtle shift in the air, a crack in your carefully built walls. Steve’s kindness, his loving nature, it’s getting to you.

And he’s being patient. Understanding.

“Well, I guess.. I can give it a try,” You say, still patting the dog’s head, “Thank you, Steve,”

“We’re both here for you,” Steve slowly sits in the chair beside your bed, “How ever you need us,”

As Captain playfully tries to steal some of your pumpkin bread, you finally let out a tiny purr. It’s barely audible but it’s there, deep in your chest and coming to life, a part of you that had been suppressed for so long.

It was a sign that you were slowly healing and that was a small victory.

Steve watches you hug the dog, a smile on his face and eyes full of adoration. He could wait, after all, you had waited for him for a whole century.

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