Shield

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The airfield was dim and foggy, with very little traffic due to the weather. Steve tipped up his head to the sky and relished the open feeling. For a kid who had grown up in Brooklyn and was currently stationed in London, he really liked wide spaces.

"No, no, never put that box on end!" Howard Stark's strident voice cut the air like a knife. A plane had arrived earlier with some of his inventions, and he had invited Steve to meet him at the airfield. Apparently there were some things he wanted to show off - or something. Steve had been going to refuse, but one look at Bucky's face had him changing his mind.

For years, Bucky had followed Howard Stark's achievements in the papers back home. The idea of actually getting to meet the man had brought a look of glee back into his eyes that Steve hadn't seen since Brooklyn. Now, tagging at Steve's elbow, Bucky's eyes and grin were equally wide as he looked at the strangely shaped parcels all around them.

"Hey, Rogers!" Howard popped up from behind a large box, a pair of blue goggles pushed back on his forehead giving him the look of a human fly. "Aaaand company," he added, seeing Bucky. "Here, gimme a hand with this thing - these guys don't know up from down." Bucky stepped forward willingly and trotted after Howard, who was already nine steps ahead of him and rattling on about something or other.

Left alone for the moment, Steve looked around, not quite admitting to himself who he was looking for. After all, she probably wouldn't be hanging around an airstrip just to watch Howard's boxes; surely she had better things to do.

He had done such a good job of convincing himself that she wouldn't be there, that when he saw her he had to look twice to be sure. A hundred yards away, Peggy Carter was walking towards the plane, checking things off on a clipboard as she came. She hadn't seen him yet, and he took the brief opportunity to appreciate the picture she made, all trim and businesslike despite the gloomy day.

The dim drone of an airplane sounded somewhere in the background as he started towards her, trying to figure out how to let her know he was there. Should he call out, or wait until he was close enough to speak normally? What did Bucky usually do? Suddenly he couldn't remember a single time that he'd seen Bucky greet girls. They just sort of - appeared, didn't they?

The sound of the airplane was coming closer, and he looked up, hoping to watch it land. The spectacle was routine for everybody else, but still new to him. Steve had to admit, he was fascinated by the machines, though he doubted he'd ever get the opportunity to learn how to use one. The fog made it hard to see, and he was privately impressed at the nerve of the pilot who was flying in like this.

Then the plane came fully into view through the swirling fog, and his heart stopped.

Howard or Bucky probably could have rattled off the make and serial number of the plane, but Steve only knew three things.

The plane was German, there were guns mounted below the wings, and it was flying straight towards Howard's aircraft.

Peggy was right in its path.

His feet were moving even before he realized, and he ran faster than he'd even known he could.

A hoarse cry of alarm from behind him told him that one of the airfield workers had noticed as well, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Howard and Bucky would have time to get away from their airplane before it was hit. Peggy, on the other hand, had her back to the fast approaching German plane, and was nowhere near cover.

The first rattle of machine gun fire split the air, and Peggy dropped her clipboard, arms flying up to cover her head as she whirled around to run but it was too late. Steve could see jets of dirt spurting up from the ground where the bullets were driving, and he knew she had only seconds left.

He reached her just before the line of fire did, and flung himself forward, his full weight slamming her into the ground. She grunted painfully at the impact, even as his fumbling hand cupped the back of her head and tucked it beneath his chin. Flattening himself over her, he tried to cover her smaller form as fully as possible, praying desperately that his body would somehow be enough to stop the bullets before they could reach her.

Then the thundering concussion was upon them, and Steve braced himself for the inevitable onslaught. Dirt hit his face, and he set his teeth - and then it swept past, the drone of the engine growing fainter, the rattling guns retreating.

For a long moment, he just lay there, still drawn tight, suddenly aware of the pound of his own heart. Had he been shot? It didn't feel like it…

Beneath him, Peggy's hand shoved against his chest, and he jerked in surprise before raising his head and looking down into her face. She was wheezing, the wind knocked out of her, and dirt was ground into one cheek, but she looked alive.

"Steve," she croaked. Her eyes were huge, and she grasped at his uniform.

"You okay?" he asked, and she nodded uncertainly, breath ragged. "Don't try to talk," he told her, and realized that his voice was shaking dismally. "Just breathe. Did I hurt you?"

She struggled for another breath, and it was only when he felt her chest rise against his own that he realized he was still sprawled on top of her. Blushing fiercely, he lifted himself off and helped her sit up. It was then that he noticed the neat rows of bullet holes drilled into the ground on either side of her body. They must have come within inches of his head.

Peggy saw them too, and her face turned impossibly whiter beneath the dirt. "Are you all right?" she rasped, hands patting frantically up and down his sides. "Did they…"

"Hey, I'm fine," he tried to tell her, and finally she steadied.

"Steve Rogers," her voice hitched as she tried to breathe more evenly, eyes scanning his body one more time before returning to his face. "If you ever - don't you dare…" she trailed off breathlessly.

"Steve!" Bucky skidded through the dirt to his side, roughly grabbing his shoulders. He saw the holes in the ground as well, and choked something profane through his teeth as he tried to check his friend over.

"I'm okay, Buck," Steve tried to reassure him, "They got rotten aim," but Bucky would not be deterred from his course of action. At last, unable to find blood, he sat back on his heels.

"You just took ten years off my life, Rogers," he growled, but one look at his face told Steve that Bucky was more shaken than angry. "When I saw you run out there - and then you didn't get up right away…" he swallowed convulsively and shook his head hard. "Agent Carter okay?"

She nodded, more assuredly this time, though Steve noted she still didn't have much color. "I think I winded her," he explained sheepishly. "Sorry about that," he finished, feeling helpless, but she shook her head at him.

"You're an idiot," she told him between gasps, and though her voice was still uneven, the look on her face was fierce enough to bend iron. "Do you always say 'hello' to women by knocking them down?"

Steve suddenly realized he was grinning. "Only when somebody's strafing them, ma'am."

"We should get off the field," Bucky interjected, and glanced up uneasily at the sky. "We're sitting ducks out here if they do another flyover."

A loud report made all three of them jump. Over to the left, Stark's plane was burning, and a few of the boxes around it looked as though they had exploded green fire, which was more than a little disturbing. Howard himself was running around like a madman, ordering his employees left and right as they dragged things away from the plane.

"He's gonna need a hand with that," Steve realized, and stumbled to his feet. Peggy apparently still had a grip on his jacket, so he helped her up, not missing her quickly hidden wince and the stiff way she held herself. She would probably be severely bruised in the morning from his crushing impact.

Still, bruised was far, far better than dead.

"Bucky, get her outta here. I got to help Stark." Then he was off, running back toward the burning plane.

Left alone, Bucky cast a sideways glance at Agent Carter. She was looking after Steve with a mixture of fondness and exasperation that he had felt all too often on his own face.

"Shall we?" he asked, and offered his arm.

She threw a withering glance up at him. "In your dreams, soldier," she told him firmly, and limped off after Steve, pausing only to pick up the remains of her shattered clipboard, shot to pieces where she had dropped it.

Shaking his head, Bucky Barnes looked after her. "Steve, you sure got yourself one peach of a girl and you don't even know it yet," he mused aloud. She was every inch as stubborn as the boy he'd known all his life. They would be perfect for each other, assuming they both lived through all this.

With one last glance at the bullet holes in the ground, Bucky followed his friend. One of these days, that fool was gonna get himself killed doing something foolishly heroic. It was up to him and Agent Carter to make sure that day was put off as long as possible.

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Based on a true story.

Some years ago a WWII doctor and nurse sat down and told me stories. I'll never forget the way the old doctor held out his hands as he told of shoving the nurse down and covering her with his body, trying to shield her as a Nazi plane flew low over the airfield, strafing. It went directly over them and left a row of bullet holes on each side of them, but they were unhurt. I couldn't resist retelling the experience - it seemed exactly the kind of thing Steve Rogers would do.