October 30th, 1944

Dear Bea,

This is just going to be a quick letter, Bea, but I had to let you know what's going on.

I found him, Bea. Gordon was right. He was brought back to one of the London Hospitals. He's okay, Bea. Still in bad shape from what I've been able to find out, but he's out of danger. I was able to pull some strings and track him down. It sounds like it was bad, though, Bumblebee. Pneumonia. And a right nasty case too. Bad enough that they might be sending him home. We just wrapped up a mission and we're heading back to London ourselves. I'm doing what I can to see if I can get in to visit him. Steve's offered to help if he can. I'm sure between the two of us we'll manage it.

You have no idea how much I wish I could say that, Bea. I have to hope that it'll all work out anyway, but as much as I want to, I can't lie. Not to you. I did promise, after all. Nothing's going to be the same. Too much has happened, Bea.

I don't know if it's going to be okay. But I have to hope. And you do to. Okay? And you keep writing to me. And to Jack until he gets home. And even to Gordy. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, but your letters really are a ray of sunshine, Bumblebee. You keep them coming.

We'll win this yet, Bea. Then we'll come home.

Love,

Bucky

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

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