Some days it feels like all he does is fight.
Tessa wants to go out to Seattle for a few days to tour the new lab setup. Bucky thinks she should wait until she can at least walk on her own before traipsing around a 500,000-square-foot facility. Fight.
Romanov keeps dumping morning runs on him because, "It's too cold." Even though it's her damn turn. And she's from Russia for fuck's sake. But… "You spent most of the last century frozen. You should be immune to the cold." Fight.
Sam invites himself over for dinner so he and Tessa can gib-gab about his new girl all night. Fight.
Steve tells him he's got some big important thing to do… meaning, "I need you run the sparring sessions this morning." Even though he just finished up running the drills that Romanov dropped in his lap, and he's supposed to train with his own team this afternoon. Fight.
And sparring? Well, by definition, that's a fight.
He used to think that things somehow always ended in a fight. Now, as he lays splayed out on the mat, getting his ass kicked by a bunch of green cadets for what feels like the hundredth time this week… Now he thinks they begin with one too.
"You're looking pretty pathetic today, Sarge," Robson croons as his 6'5" frame looms over Bucky. From this angle, the kid looks like he has the wingspan of a freaking condor as he spreads his arms wide before bringing his hands together for an excited clap. "Or maybe I'm just killing it!"
In one quick, fluid motion, Bucky rolls to his hip and shoots his right leg out to easily sweep Robson's feet out from under him. The giant man falls with a thick thud, a pile of gangly limbs hitting the mat – hard – beside him. "Yeah," he mutters as he rises to a seated position and glares down at the kid. "You're killing it."
Atkinson approaches the two men, slapping Robson on the shoulder as her voice rings out, "Lesson number eighteen – never underestimate Sergeant Barnes." She loops her arm through his and helps to haul him upright, the mismatched pair looking rather comical as he leans his large body on her shoulder, the petite woman desperately trying to steady herself under his weight as he regains his footing.
Bucky's brow furrows as he rises with a groan. "How is that lesson eighteen?" he asks her. "What were one through seventeen?"
She shrugs, shucking the giant man off of her as she looks over at her training officer. "There are a lot of basic SOPs. And then it's just random stuff that we've all picked up over the last six months… Never head into a debrief with a full bladder – especially if Captain Rogers is running it. Wear sunscreen – even in the winter – if we're doing the obstacle courses on the east grounds. Oh, and never make eye contact with Agent Romanov."
He nods – "Fair enough." – before glancing over her shoulder as the doors leading into the adjacent private gym swing open.
Atkinson smiles coyly as she leans in and says, "There's another one about you too… number eleven… don't ask Sergeant Barnes anything personal. Ever."
He shoots her an impatient look, eliciting a small burble of laughter from the woman, before dropping his hand to her shoulder to usher her out of the way. "Start working drills," he orders as he moves past the two on the mat and pushes his way through a few other recruits milling nearby. "All of you," he shoots over his shoulder as he heads toward the other side of gym.
The grin slowly fades from Atkinson's face as she watches him make a beeline for the pair across the way. "Who's that?" she asks Robson, ticking her chin towards the dark-haired woman laughing and joking with Captain Rogers.
He steps up behind her, looming over her shoulder as he glances at them. "Dr. Sullivan?" She cocks her head up at him and shrugs. "She's the lead physician. You never met her?" A quick shake of the head. "She didn't do your intake?"
She turns back to study the unfamiliar woman, perplexed by how chummy she seems to be with Captain Rogers – and, it seems, with Sergeant Barnes. "No," she says, watching as Barnes' demeanor changes – his shoulders relaxing, gate almost bouncing – as he runs up to meet them. "Mattingly did."
"Oh," he goes on. "Well, she's been out of commission for a while. Motorcycle accident, I think." He pauses thoughtfully. "Reynolds has the 411, if you want more gossip."
She rolls her eyes, but is unable to divert her gaze from the scene unfolding in front of her. "Why would I want that?" she murmurs, watching as the Sergeant leans into the strange woman, his hand delicately brushing her arm in a way that has her gut suddenly clenching.
Robson quirks a teasing brow as he drops down to whisper in her ear, "Because most of the gossip is about her and your favorite Sergeant."
The moment Tessa catches Bucky's eye, her beaming smile widens even further. "Hey," she enthuses. "Getting all those noobs into shape?"
He scoffs and gives Steve a harsh glare. "Trying. It's a little hard to do when the rest of the team keeps abandoning you."
"Hey," Steve defends. "I had something important to do." He glances over at Tessa. "She did great, by the way."
Bucky's brows knit together as he looks at Tessa and takes in her sweat-laden hair and clothes. "What the hell have you been doing?" he asks, his tone a perplexing swirl of concern and amusement. "Don't you have an actual physical therapist?"
She waves a dismissive hand through the air. "Steve talked to him and cleared everything."
"Cleared everything?" he asks, his gaze narrowing suspiciously. He cocks his head to the side, only just now realizing that she's standing – unassisted – before him. His eyes blow wide as he feels the achingly familiar fight bubble up inside of him. "Where the hell are your crutches?"
"Relax." The annoyed voice draws his attention as Natasha steps through the doorway, letting the heavy door to the private gym slam shut behind her. She moves over to Tessa and hands her the crutches before giving Bucky an exasperated eye roll.
Steve, still all smiles, looks to his friend and explains, "I thought I could help her out. She's only scheduled for PT twice a week, so to make sure she does her exercises in between –"
Bucky's glare remains fixed on Romanov. "And you needed to help out too?"
She shrugs. "Figured you could handle things here." Then, raising an amused brow as she glances quickly over his shoulder. "I'm assuming you told them to take five?"
A confused frown spreads over his face as he turns to look behind him. Every single one of the recruits is standing right where he left them, staring wide eyed at the small group on the other side of the gym, watching them with such focused intensity that Bucky's blood begins to boil. "Drills! Now!" he shouts with an angry sort of authority. And they all rush to the mats, pairing off quickly to begin self-defense maneuvers.
"That was hot," Tessa utters from beside him. He glances over to see her leaning heavily on the crutches, a sure sign that she's either in pain or simply exhausted. But her face is positively alight as she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at him. "Why don't you ever order me around like that?"
"Yeah, Buck," Steve says as he snorts out a laugh. "Why don't you order her around? Really… I would love to see you try that."
Tessa rolls her eyes dramatically. "I meant in bed," she tells him. "You wanna see that?"
Unfazed, he quirks his head in her direction. "I'm not convinced you wouldn't punch him in the face then either," he replies with a wink.
Bucky shakes his head slowly, a small crooked smile blooming as he snakes an arm around Tessa's back. Leaning down, he whispers in her ear, "I'll come up with some drills for us to do later." She lets out a light laugh and he nuzzles his face into her sweaty neck before pulling away suddenly and dropping his arm. He tosses a tentative glance over his shoulder to check in on the cadets, making sure they're working instead of ogling.
"Looking forward to it, Sergeant," she says playfully, pulling his attention back to her. Then, with a tired sigh, "But first, I have to shower and get back to work."
The puckish grin he'd been wearing quickly slips from his face. "Don't you think you've done enough for today?" he asks, familiar concern dripping from his words.
She barks out an incredulous laugh – "You're funny. Hilarious." – and turns to make her way out of the gym complex.
"Hey," he says, lightly grabbing her wrist. "I'm serious. You should still be taking it easy."
She waves him off. "I'm fine. Go mother-hen your students over there," she says pointing to the recruits, most of whom, once again, have their attention trained on them. He shoots the group a threatening glare and they immediately pick up the pace. "You are good at that," she intones with a sigh. He gives her a nearly identical look and she frowns at him mockingly. "I'm just going to check in at the lab for a bit and talk to Bruce. Relax."
He raises a serious brow. "Be home by five."
She cocks her head at him. "Is that an order?"
He nods. "Yeah it is," he tells her, the corner of his mouth quirking up slyly.
"We'll see," she utters before commencing to hobble away.
He turns back to Steve and Natasha, both of whom are watching him intently, seemingly as entertained by his and Tessa's interaction as the cadets across the gym. "I don't know what you did to her back there," he says to them, suspicious eyebrow raised. "But I'm pretty sure she's gonna go pass out in her office and I'm gonna have to scrape her off her desk later."
Steve gives an indignant snort. "She'll be fine. You worry too much."
"You," he says, raising a pointed finger at his friend, "have been talking too much to that stubborn pile of broken bones."
"I'm telling her you called her that," he replies with a chuckle.
Nat pats Bucky sharply on the shoulder as she pushes past him. "Look on the bright side, Barnes. If she does go pass out at her desk, she'll be well rested when you drill her later."
Almost in unison, Steve and Bucky both breathe out irritated sighs, shaking their heads as she leaves. They turn back to the group on the mats, watching them intently. "They're looking good," Steve mutters.
"Yeah," Bucky agrees, though with a bit of hesitation.
"I was thinking…" he starts, his words trailing off into nothingness.
Without turning to face him, Bucky finishes his thought, the deep timbre of his voice setting a conclusive quality to his words. "You want to put them in the field."
"They've all gone on training runs. Some of them assisted on recon missions." He pauses briefly. "After your last op…" He trails off again, his mind wandering as he thinks back to the night Bucky got shot. Blood everywhere. His friend gasping and dying on a concrete floor. An unproven, under-prepared recruit plastered to the wall, frozen in terror. "I don't want a repeat of that. Ever."
Bucky's brows raise high. "Me either. But Abrams was a question mark from the beginning." He shakes his sadly, not thinking about the op itself, nor his near-death experience, but of the all-too-common look of utter dread on that kid's face. "We never should've brought him on," he laments, not for the first time. Even as he utters the words, though, a series of very different thoughts rolls through his mind. I should've done better. He needed more help. We failed him. I failed him.
Steve turns to him, his gaze aggrieved. He knows what Bucky's thinking. He's been struggling with those same doubts since the day he cut Abrams loose. "Yeah," he agrees with a simple, sharp nod. Then, turning back to the others, he asks, "What do you think? Any question marks out there?"
His eyes narrow, brows knitting together as he studies each of the remaining ten recruits. This will be their support team. These kids. He's not sure why he thinks of all of them as kids still. Despite being 100, he more often than not recognizes people of his same genetic age – as Tessa likes to call it – as being his peers. And the recruits range from 28 to 35. But there's something about the innocent enthusiasm that drips from each and every one of them that just makes their faces shine like pure, naïve kids.
It probably isn't fair for him to think of them as being naïve or innocent or pure. They're experienced in combat, in counter-espionage, in tactical warfare. They've all seen shit. He knows this. But once you've been through what he has – and not just as the Winter Soldier either – everyone else's formative experiences seem to pale in comparison.
As a kid, he left home to go fight a cold and deadly war a world away. He lost friends in battle. He watched fellow soldiers fade and die as Hydra prisoners. He himself had begged for death every time he had the wherewithal to do so… for decades. Just a couple of years ago, he watched from atop a floating city as the world moved towards an inevitable demise. He'd killed for his country. He'd killed out of fear. He'd killed as part of someone else's mission. He'd killed for no reason at all. He'd killed… so damn many people.
Could these soldiers do that? If it came down to it, if he ordered them to kill, would they do it? Could he even bring himself to give that order to this group of kids?
He lets out a long, deflating sigh and goes down the lineup for Steve. "McKay and Reynolds are good. No doubts there," he says of the two former CIA operatives who've been at the top of the class since the beginning. "Robson needs to get his head outta his ass and take shit seriously. But he did two tours in the Korengal Valley…"
"So we know he can keep his head out of his ass," Steve finishes with a small smirk. "What about Atkinson and Madini?" he asks, voice low as he utters the names of the only two women who remain after last week's final cuts.
Bucky nods. "Madini's fierce as hell. She's just gotta stop trying to prove something all the damn time. But she's got skills and smarts. So does Atkinson. And she's got the confidence that Madini lacks. She's good, Steve. Damn good. And she knows it."
"She's tiny," he mutters softly, almost to himself. "What is she, 5'2"… 5'3"?"
Bucky shrugs. "How tall is Romanov?"
He stifles a short laugh. "Point taken."
"They're good," Bucky says with a definitive nod. "All of them. They're ready."
"Alright then," Steve says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Let's get them all officially cleared for duty. We're setting up an op in Nigeria. Recon with a good chance of seeing action. I want your top two picks by the end of the week."