A Pain in the Head

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Sometimes it was terribly inconvenient being a girl in a camp full of men. Peggy Carter was used to it by now, but that didn't mean it was easy. Splashing a little water on her face, she sat back on her heels, appreciating the peace and quiet - the chance to be alone for a few minutes. At last she scrambled to her feet with a resigned sigh. She'd been gone quite long enough, and if she didn't hurry back, supper would be over.

It had grown dark, and she picked her way carefully back toward the camp. She was so focussed on her path that she almost missed the smothered groan.

Freezing in her tracks, Peggy strained her ears, hand drifting toward her gun. They were well behind the Allied lines by now, but that didn't mean things were safe. Somebody groaned again, and she cautiously redirected her steps toward the sound. A dark shape sprawled at the foot of a large tree, and it took her an embarrassingly long time to recognize who it was.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

The sergeant was gasping, gripping his head in both hands and moaning between clenched teeth. He was all but writhing on the ground, obviously in pain and desperately trying to suffer in silence.

"Sergeant, where are you hurt? Can you tell me what happened?" Peggy dropped to her knees at his side, and tried to ascertain the extent of his injuries while simultaneously scanning the darkness around her for danger. It was almost too dark to see, but a brief patdown of his body revealed no obvious blood.

"H-head," he finally managed, gritting his teeth hard enough that she could actually hear it. She hadn't felt any blood in his hair, but did a second check to make sure she hadn't missed anything. His hands were still clamped around his own skull, and it was hard to tell if anything was abnormal. What she wouldn't give for a light...

"Can you let go of your head, Sergeant?" she finally asked. "I need to see how you're hurt."

He couldn't speak, far past words, but her fingers finally found moisture on his face. Not sticky enough for blood, she suddenly realized it was tears of pain, leaking from between tightly squeezed eyelids. Everything came together, and she sat back on her heels with a breath of relief.

"You have a headache, don't you?"

She didn't need him to answer; she knew she was right. She felt silly, taking this long to figure it out, but it was wartime. When someone was in pain, there was usually a lot of blood involved. People tended to forget about more normal things like headaches. Still, this was no mere headache. Sergeant Barnes was clearly in massive agony. His legs worked against the leaves as if he could somehow crawl away, and each breath came with something like a sob.

He wouldn't want her to see him like this, wouldn't want anyone to see him. He had made it this far into the woods to be by himself, but in all good conscience she couldn't leave him to suffer alone.

"I'll go get Steve, shall I?" Peggy started to get to her feet, but one hand finally came loose from his hair and scrabbled blindly at her coat. He couldn't get a grip on it, but she got the message and stopped.

"No," Barnes forced past his clenched teeth. "No."

Well, all right. If he didn't want his best friend, then that was that.

He'd simply have to make do with her.

Shifting her position, she crawled around until she was kneeling by his head, shucking off her jacket. The night air was chilly, but she'd handled worse. "Barnes," she purposefully kept her voice soft and low in the hopes it wouldn't worsen his pain. "I'm going to lift your head a little."

His whole body shuddered as she carefully raised his head and shoulders, shoving her jacket underneath as a makeshift pillow. Hopefully it would offer at least a little relief. "Let go of your head," she told him firmly. "It's all right; I know what to do. I can help, you just need to let go."

It took several minutes, but he finally allowed her to guide his hands away from his head. For a moment, he grasped at the leaves and grass around them until he found purchase on the hem of her skirt. Peggy let him; he needed something to hang onto, and she didn't particularly mind. Her fingers quickly sought out the pressure points on his skull that she remembered so well. Her mother had suffered from debilitating migraines during the last few years of her life, and Peggy had become rather skilled at coaxing them away.

For a long time, she knelt and worked over his head. At first he continued to gasp, clutching convulsively at her, shaking with pain. It was nearly pitch black by the time she finally began to feel him relax. He was no longer moaning with each breath, and she suddenly realized he had fallen asleep.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

He didn't respond to her best efforts to wake him, so she gathered her feet under her and rose decidedly. There was no way she could get him back to camp by herself, and she wasn't about to leave him out here all night. Whether he liked it or not, she was going to need to bring Steve into this.

Steve Rogers was in the middle of a conversation with Colonel Phillips when something started niggling at the edge of his brain. He stammered and lost the end of his sentence, but the colonel was busy with a map and didn't notice.

"...tain Rog…"

Colonel Phillips asked him a question and Steve blinked. "Um, sure?" He tried to focus. Was it something he was hearing?

"...eed you…"

He suddenly remembered the days right after Project Rebirth, during the constant medical tests and check-ups he'd been subjected to. He'd been in the middle of an examination when the nurses in the hallway began whispering about his physical appearance. Steve had blushed bright scarlet, and that's when they discovered that his hearing had been enhanced. Since then he'd learned to block out the sounds on the edge of his hearing - it was often distracting or invasive.

This voice sounded familiar, though. He concentrated, trying to shut everything else out.

"Steve, I need you. Bucky's in trouble."

That was Peggy. Steve jolted to his feet and suddenly realized that the colonel was staring at him, mouth open. Apparently he'd been in the middle of a sentence. "Sorry, sir." Steve turned and almost tripped over his own canvas chair. "That sounds good. I just remembered something. Ah - excuse me, sir." Saluting, he left the tent with an internal grimace. He'd certainly pay for that in the morning.

Peggy was at his tent at the other end of the row. Apparently she had given up calling, and had stuck her head inside to see if he was asleep. He hurried over. "What's wrong with Bucky? Are you okay?" He'd looked for them both at dinner, but Dugan had called him into a discussion, and he had been distracted from his search. Now he realized something must have happened.

"I'm fine. You could hear me from all the way over there?" She sounded pleased and surprised, but he noticed she was shivering in the wind, coatless.

"It took a while," Steve admitted, unzipping his jacket. "I usually try not to listen to things like that. What's the trouble?" He stepped closer. "Here."

For a moment he thought she would refuse, but either the look on his face or the sudden cold gust of wind changed her mind, and she let him put his coat around her shoulders. "I found Barnes in the woods before dinner with the grandmother of all headaches. He's sleeping now, but I can't get him back to camp."

She'd started walking before finishing her sentence, and he followed closely, reaching into the pocket of the coat she was wearing to retrieve his flashlight. "I owe you, Peggy," he finally said. "Thanks for being there for him."

"Does he get headaches frequently?"

Steve could hear the concern in her voice and bit his lip, trying to decide how much to tell her. Bucky had told him some things in confidence, while others he had simply guessed.

"He didn't use to," the captain finally settled on saying. "They - did a lot of stuff to him in that camp, and we still don't know all the after-effects. I thought he hadn't had one for a couple of weeks; he must be hiding them from me." The thought hurt, that his best friend would deliberately not tell him things.

Peggy took the flashlight from his hand so she could shine it more directly where she was stepping. "Well, then I imagine he'll be quite cross with me for telling you."

"I'm glad you did," Steve admitted quietly, and she heard the weight of responsibility and worry in his voice.

They came into view of Barnes then, lying at the foot of the tree where she'd left him, and Steve covered the last few yards faster than she'd ever seen him move when not in battle. "Bucky? Hey, Buck?"

"Is he all right?" Peggy asked, catching up and trying not to shine the light into Steve's face.

"Yeah." Steve gently shook his friend's shoulder. "He usually sleeps like a log after one of these though - I think he's out for the night." Sliding his arms under Barnes' knees and back, Steve straightened, effortlessly picking up his friend.

Peggy shook her head in disbelief, but held the flashlight steady as she retrieved her chilly jacket from the ground and slung it over her arm. She still wasn't used to the casual displays of strength that the captain was capable of. His might was awe-inspiring when he fought, but it was the little day-to-day things that kept catching her off-guard, like lifting motorcycles over a granite ridge, or carrying a twelve gallon dishpan full of water for the mess crew, or picking up a fully-grown man from the ground without a single sign of strain.

The walk back to camp was taken in silence, but as they parted at the first row of tents, Steve paused and turned to her. She moved to give him back his flashlight, and he shifted Bucky's dead weight until he could reach out to take it. To her surprise, he paused, his fingers overlapping hers on the metal handle for the briefest of moments. "Thanks, Peggy," he said again. "Jerk's so set on taking care of me, he forgets how to look after himself."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Peggy commented dryly, and Bucky chose that moment to snore softly into Steve's collar, as if in agreement. Steve scowled playfully at his old friend before looking back at her, trying very hard to look completely inoffensive.

"Looks like I've got to get this guy to bed," he told her as he turned, hefting Barnes into a more secure position. "Hang onto my coat for me - I can get it from you in the morning. G'night, Peggy."

"Good night, Steve," she replied, and he grinned easily over his shoulder as he left. His coat was warm around her, and she pulled it a little tighter as she started the walk back to her tent, her own jacket folded in her arms.

She only looked back once, but the image of Captain America carrying his friend was one that would stay with her the rest of her life.

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Because Peggy and Steve looking out for Bucky needs to be a thing.