The Omega Trials

by Samwise Baggins

Who would have thought than an innocent kiss on a hot summer's day would rock the world 83 years later?

25. Revelations in the Field

Chapter Title: Revelations in the Field

Author: Sam

Story: The Omega Trials: 25 of ?

Series: The Omega Rights (part two)

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Setting: AU: November 11 - 20, 1943; Azzano, Italy and Austrian Alps, Austria

WARNING: Violence, War, Post Traumatic Anxiety

Translations:

Cariad - Love - Welsh

Prêt, le sergent. - Ready, Sergeant. - French

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Setting: AU: Thursday, November 11, 1943: Azzano, Italy

Bucky rolled over and directly into the solid bulk of his over-warm husband. Smiling, softly sighing, he buried his face in Steve's chest. Their discussion of the night before came back to him as Bucky slid his arms around his lover. He hoped they'd finally sorted through Steve's insecurities, because Bucky had enough mental issues to keep them both wrapped in knots. He hated the idea that Steve, too, suffered emotional problems.

The large blond instinctively wrapped his arms around his husband and held him tightly, enjoying the feeling of Bucky in his arms.

Lifting his face, inhaling Steve's sweet scent as he did so, Bucky smiled up at his husband. "Heya, soldier. What's a beautiful guy like you doing with a rough guy like me?" His tone sounded as playful as he felt.

Steve smirked and pressed his lips to Bucky's forehead, breathing in the brunet's naturally musky scent. "I don't know . . . keep tellin' myself it's because I love you . . ." Steve's tone was just as light, just as playful as Bucky's.

Thought muted, there was no denying Bucky's natural musk was indeed coming back. Whatever Zola had done to him seemed to have been either wearing off, or his body was adjusting to it, and the medication provided by the medic seemed to have started balancing with Bucky's natural hormones. Bucky lifted one hand to stroke Steve's cheek, letting his strong fingers slip down his husband's neck to the collar of his pajamas, toying lightly with the flesh there. "That's funny. I keep telling myself I love you, too." He lifted his face a bit more so he could brush lips with Steve.

Meeting Bucky's kiss with one of his own, Steve's hands ran down the brunet's spine, caressing the smooth skin of his husband's back. He could still feel each of Bucky's ribs under his skin, but it wasn't as bad as when Bucky had first been rescued.

Bucky curved his spine into the caresses like a cat being stroked. He smiled widely and moved his kisses down Steve's cheek and neck, the same path his fingers had dipped down. "Taste good, Stevie . . ." he murmured.

Steve moaned softly as Bucky's lips trailed down his neck. He slid his large hands up to Bucky's waist and tugged him closer.

Brushing the neck of Steve's top out of the way a bit, Bucky sealed his mouth over the exposed flesh, sucking at the skin, drawing a faint bruise to the surface on the fair man's flesh. He lapped the wound afterwards, smiling. "Mine," he whispered.

"Yours," Steve moaned breathlessly, a low, needy whine breaking past his lips. He let his head fall to the side, exposing his neck to Bucky's attentions.

Bucky smiled, pleased by his husband's reaction, feeling a surge of protective power rush through him at the tone of Steve's voice. He felt in control, something rare those days. Sliding his hand over Steve's cloth-covered chest and down, Bucky cupped his husband's member and sac through his pajama bottoms. "Want me to take care of this, Cariad?" he purred.

"Oh . . . yes, please . . . Buck," Steve groaned, trying to keep his voice low.

Someone knocked on the wood hanging outside the tent door and Colonel Phillips called, "up and at 'em, Sunshine. You got work!" He walked off, calling into another tent as he passed.

Groaning, Bucky let his face sink into Steve's shoulder. "Damn . . ."

Steve groaned and let his eyes focus on the tent's ceiling above them, trying to will away his erection.

With a quick brush of his lips to Steve's, Bucky slid from the cot. "Damn . . ." he grumbled again as he began dressing in uniform, back to Steve. "Sorry," he murmured to his husband. He hated leaving Steve aching like that.

"It's fine," Steve assured, quickly getting dressed. He couldn't blame Bucky for the lack of privacy after all. As quickly as he was dressed, Steve led the way from their shared tent.

Agent Carter nodded as the pair joined the other members of the strike team gathered at the mess tent. She spread out a map and made a mark in dark ink. "That is another weapons depot, in Germany," she explained, not even looking up as Morita pushed a pair of plates with rehydrated eggs and fatty looking, half cooked strips of meat at the pair; Gabe offered coffee. "Over here is a training facility and a carport with tanks. This road," she continued marking the map," is the only way to get the tanks out of their storage yard, load the armaments, then deploy them against our allies . . . in this case the Russians." Looking up at last, the petite woman said, "we can strike down their tanks before deployment if we position ourselves just right on that road."

Steve looked at the map and then up at Peggy, "we can pick a spot far from all three endpoints so one team can blow up tanks without anyone catching on, while having other strike teams hit the three end zones."

"Sounds good," Dum Dum verified, scooping some watery eggs into his mouth without even acknowledging the less-than-attractive meal. He'd been in the war zone long enough to appreciate even having those eggs at all. "Do you want us as an end zone?"

"No," Jim Morita barked out. "We're the road team, right? We can sneak up on those tanks as they're moving and take them out!" His voice took on the excitement of a child with the promise of a new toy.

Glancing over his men, Steve caught Bucky's smile and wink. "I think Morita's right," Bucky drawled, "we're small and fast. We can take out tanks along that road while the Colonel uses his heavier strike teams to keep the other zones busy."

Rapid French filled the air and Gabe laughingly translated for Dernier. "Frenchie says he's got some ideas for taking down tanks without getting caught."

Smiling, glancing over the marked map once more, Steve looked up at his team, "alright, let's all take a couple days to get the specifics down, gather the ordinance we need, and pack up. We roll on Monday."

xxx

Setting: AU: Sunday, November 14, 1943: Azzano, Italy

After supper on Sunday, Steve headed into their tent to begin stowing the last of their mission gear for the morning. Bucky followed him inside, shutting the tent door carefully. He walked up behind his husband and slid his arms around him from behind, placing a warm kiss on Steve's bite scar. "Heya, Cariad," he whispered against Steve's skin.

A shiver ran down Steve's spine. "Heya, Buck," he answered breathlessly, enjoying any small time they could steal together among the bustle and lack of privacy of the base.

"They sure kept us busy the last couple of days." Bucky traced his lips over the back of Steve's neck. "Barely got to see ya at all."

Turning around in Bucky's arms, Steve hummed in agreement, pressing his lips to his husband's for their first real kiss since Thursday morning.

Smiling into the kiss, Bucky whispered, "still want me to take care of ya, Cariad?" He ran his hands down Steve's sides, over his uniform, and slid his fingers into Steve's waistband, tugging slightly.

Steve's breath hitched in his throat, "please . . ." He immediately felt his erection fill at the decadent promise in his husband's voice.

Grinning, Bucky unfastened Steve's uniform trousers and dropped to his knees. He shimmied the pants down to Steve's knees, dragging his underpants with them. Looking up at his husband through his thick lashes, Bucky licked his lips and leaned forward to touch his lips to the tip of Steve's member.

Gasping, Steve fought to keep his hips still; he let his head fall back at the sensations. Bucky always knew just what to do to make him feel good . . . always had.

Lapping around the head, Bucky traced his tongue over Steve's slit, dipping slightly, then circling the head once more. He brought his hands to Steve's member, one cupping his heavy sac. "Damn, Stevie, got bigger since last time," he whispered, breath hot as it ghosted over his lover's member.

Steve flushed and muttered, "is that a good thing or . . ."

"Damn straight it is," Bucky breathed, relieving Steve's uncertainty in his own body's changes. He began to take Steve's large member into his mouth, sucking at the tip before sliding a bit more into his mouth, stopping to suckle then swallow more, over and over, caressing the sensitive underside as he worked Steve's large erection down his throat, years of practice aiding in the process.

"Oh . . . Buck . . ." Steve gasped, his eyes closing and head falling back once more. He focused on keeping his hips still, not wanting to hurt his lover.

Moving his hands around to grasp Steve's ass, Bucky held still, mouth and throat engulfing Steve lovingly. He carefully circled one finger around Steve's rim, pressing and massaging, dry, but not forcing his way in. He hummed in approval as he felt Steve becoming slick. Bucky had no idea why Steve always was able to get slick rectally while he couldn't, but it was such a welcome bodily function that Bucky had long since accepted it. He caressed again, running the slick over Steve's rim.

Steve groaned, the erotic sensations of Bucky caressing his rim overwhelming him. His hands ran through Bucky's hair, not tightening or pulling.

At Steve's moan, Bucky froze, eyes opening wide as he looked up at his husband. Rolling his eyes towards the doorway, Bucky looked back up at Steve, keeping the erection deep in his throat but stopping his exploration of Steve's ass. He blinked slowly up at Steve trying to silently warn him.

Steve seemed to understand, as he bit at his bottom lip to try and muffle his own noises. It had always been hard to stay quiet under Bucky's wonderful ministrations, but here, even more than back home, being caught could mean discharge . . . or death. Steve nodded to Bucky, signaling that he wouldn't mess up again.

Bucky blinked slowly and began to caress once more, gently spreading the slick and massaging the passage open. He slipped two fingers into his husband, knowing that Steve always seemed to want to take more than Bucky thought he would be able to. Bucky watched Steve carefully in case he'd misjudged the other man's readiness, sucking lightly at the erection in his mouth, pulling back slightly so he could breath.

Gasping softly, Steve's hips thrust slightly but he was able to catch the movement in time before shoving himself all the way down Bucky's throat. The fingers of his left hand tightened in Bucky's hair but he tried to keep the grasp gentle. Steve forced himself to be quiet, smothering the groans into the elbow of his right arm.

Smiling around Steve, Bucky slid his fingers in and out, caressing, stroking, and eventually dragging over Steve's prostate, tasting his lover at the same time as pleasuring him.

Thrusting again into Bucky's mouth as his husband's fingers brushed over his prostate, Steve bit his arm harder to hold back the moans that wanted to escape. He felt himself quickly building towards orgasm.

It had been so long since the pair had been able to spend time together, loving each other, that Bucky found he wanted to bring Steve to completion . . . desperately wanted to give that to his lover. Bucky squeezed Steve's ass one handed and continued to stroke in and out of his passage, shortly pulling his fingers from Steve's welcoming heat. Giving a suck at the erection in his mouth, Bucky slid three fingers into his husband, bottoming out and pausing . . . waiting . . .

Gasping again, Steve breathed out, muffled by his arm, "Buck . . . gonna . . ."

Caressing across Steve's ass and hip, giving silent permission, Bucky began sucking his lover's member once more, drawing his husband's orgasm from him.

With another gasp, Steve came down Bucky's throat, fighting desperately to keep his hips from thrusting too hard, biting into the flesh of his arm to stop the scream of bliss that forced its way out.

Swallowing down Steve's cum, Bucky slowly cleaned his lover, paying special attention to Steve's head and shaft. He lovingly caressed his lover's sac before finally pulling off and slowly slipping his fingers from Steve's passage. "Better, Cariad?" he whispered, smiling, eyes blown.

Steve nodded, looking down with equally blown eyes. "Damn, Buck . . ." he panted, "want me ta . . ."

Smiling gently, Bucky shook his head and rose to his feet. "Love to, but not needed, Cariad. Sorry." He flushed, though, at the inadequacy the medicine made him feel: he couldn't even get it up for his beloved husband.

Understanding, aching to take Bucky into his body, but knowing that it was an impossible desire while Bucky was on the calming medications, Steve nodded and pulled his husband into a tight hug. "It's okay, Buck," he whispered, suddenly fierce. "As long as I get ta hold ya, I'm good."

Bucky kissed Steve's lips in a lingering mark of love and gratitude. "Let's go to bed, doll," Bucky whispered playfully, reaching down to carefully tuck his husband's member back inside the warmth of his pajama bottoms.

xxx

Setting: AU: Monday, November 15, 1943: France-German border

Traveling to Germany didn't take as long as it could have since they were able to catch a military transport plane to the border of France.

Climbing down from the military transport plane, the group of about fifty-five men sorted themselves into their smaller strike teams. Snow and cold laced the air, causing their breath to puff out in chilly clouds of freezing mist. The bitter weather would prevent rapid travel and expose their movements, so the teams had to be extra careful. That meant splitting up even sooner than had originally been intended. The route from the border of France up through Germany would be dangerous for so many reasons.

Bucky stepped up next to Steve, shoving his mittened hands into the pockets of his vivid blue coat. "Hey, think after we finish with this mission we can get ourselves assigned to fight Japan? I hear it's a bit more tropical down that way."

With a snort, Steve glanced to Bucky on his left. "If we go to Japan, we'll be with the Marines and the Navy, not the Army. Don't know about you, but I prefer the Army."

Bucky shook his head. "What's the difference? Same uniforms. Same shitty food. Better weather?"

"And boats," Gabe commented.

"Ships," Monty Falsworth corrected. "And I'm only a passable swimmer. Besides, I understand that the troops in the Pacific deal with snakes and spiders of enormous proportions."

Thinking that over, Bucky gave a shudder. "Yeah? Enormous spiders? Not too fond of spiders. Think I'll put up with snow and Nazis."

"Sides," Morita pointed out, "no sign of Hydra in Japan. We take out Hydra, we stay in Europe."

"Yeah, and the sooner we get humping, the sooner we get to that damn road and take out some Hydra goons." Dum Dum grumbled, hefting his pack to his shoulders. "We don't got a truck coming, so we gotta get walking."

The group of seven moved quickly through the surrounding trees, all of the men alert for the enemy. The journey exhausted them with the combination of hard exercise and constant vigilance. They only took minutes during the early afternoon to rest and eat a bit of dry jerky and cold water before starting out again. Shortly after dark, Dum Dum, who'd taken the lead, called a halt. A sigh of relief seemed to pass through the group, and the men began setting up their tents and putting together a cold meal, gathering wood and water locally while Gabe worked on digging a pit for their fire.

After a few minutes, the radioman shook his head, "Ground's solid, Cap. Can't hide it underground."

Steve frowned and looked over his men. "We got two options then. We can build it on the surface and risk patrols seeing it or we can try to bear without through the night."

"Can snuggle with our tent mate for warmth," Morita said, stamping his feet to keep warm without the desired fire.

"We'll need a watch," Bucky said softly. "If we use the cuddle method, I can lend my jacket to the watch?" He felt a bit guilty having to dredge up iBucky Watch/i again and hoped the offer of the extra warm jacket would make up for the necessity. But they certainly needed a traditional watch, even if Bucky had been stable enough not to need monitoring.

A brief vote later and it turned out unanimous: they'd forgo the night's fire in favor of safety. The watch, Farnsworth first followed by Steve, would borrow Bucky's jacket. Gabe and Dernier would bunk up, as would Dum Dum and Morita; the watch would, naturally, be bunked in with Bucky that night. Bucky took off his jacket without hesitation and handed it over to the British Major. The group slipped into their tents to try to rest for the night.

Bucky shut the tent against the bitter cold, though the frozen ground leached the warmth right out of the men. He turned to Steve and shivered, "bed?"

Nodding, Steve didn't even bother changing from the day's uniform, merely removing his boots and offering a second pair of socks to Bucky, who always seemed to feel cold. Bucky grinned, pulling off his boots and putting on the socks. He climbed into the pallet and snuggled instantly into Steve's heat as his husband joined him under the doubled blanket.

They wrapped each other in a warm cuddle, drifting off, Bucky's face buried in Steve's warm neck while Steve smiled, eyes closed though he remained awake awhile as he held Bucky. The couple barely moved as they drifted into light sleep, too well trained to fall into oblivion, catching what rest they could but remaining alert under the surface in case they were needed.

Four hours passed quickly before Monty slipped into the Captain's tent and walked over to the entwined couple, not making any comment about the intimate picture the men made. He whispered, "Captain, shift change."

Steve and Bucky immediately alerted awake and Steve slid from the blankets and his husband's arms to jam his feet into his boots and accept the warm blue jacket from the Major's hands. "Thanks, Falsworth. Get some sleep." He found the jacket a bit too tight but didn't complain as he slid into it and out of the tent.

Bucky watched as Monty pulled his boots off and hurried into the warm bed, snuggling against the lanky brunet. Chuckling, Bucky commented, "hey, at least you're one of the nice looking Brits, Monty. Don't think I could stomach sleeping with someone uglier than my dog."

Snorting in response, Monty shot back, "at least you're the pretty yank, Barnes. Think I'd have as much trouble if iyou/i were as ugly as the back end of your dog."

Both began to laugh and Bucky asked, "so, you got a dame back home, Monty?"

"A dame? You mean a lady friend?" Monty asked, his traditional stiffness absent in the face of Bucky's humor.

Frowning, Steve walked close to the backside of the tent and growled low, "go to sleep you two!" He didn't mind them getting along, but there was a host of reasons for the pair to shut up and sleep, least of which was that they would need their energy for the next day's march.

Bucky laced fingers with Monty, and nodded. "Night, Monty. Night, Steve," he called slightly louder and smiled as he heard the other man move off on his rounds. And soon the pair fell into sleep.

xxx

Setting: AU: Thursday, November 18, 1943: Germany

Without making any noise, the lone figure slipped to the first tent, knowing just which man would need the most rest, even if by minutes. Tall, lean, and bundled in his non-issue blue winter jacket, Bucky opened the flaps to slip in and touch Major Falsworth on the arm. The British office unwrapped himself from where he had wound around Morita for warmth and slid from the bed, the much smaller Jim Morita following silently. Bucky moved to the next tent where Gabe Jones and Jacques Dernier would be bundled together.

Inside the tent, Bucky didn't bat an idea to find the pair wrapped up like the Brit and the other American had been; the cold and thick frozen ground had continued for their entire mission, forcing the small group of men to adjust their own watch rotation, absorbing Bucky Watch methods into the entire process. Now, Dum Dum no longer had his own tent; he would cuddle with whoever was left behind when a bunk mate went on watch, and the first watch would subsequently cuddle in with the second watch's bunkmate in a continual game of round robin. No one was immune to the bitter cold.

Bucky scooped up a boot and tossed it at the pair, ducking away from the tent as Dernier shot up and aimed his loaded gun towards the direction the unexpected missile had come from. While Bucky got nightmares at times, which Steve inevitably soothed, Dernier was on a fine wire upon waking. At times, he'd been known to actual fire his small pistol, so it was a chancy maneuver whenever the watch had to wake the small Frenchman. All had learned fairly quickly to toss and duck. Without a word, Bucky slid back from the tent as Dernier turned to wake Gabe, a much heavier sleeper that his bunkmate.

Finally, Bucky slid into his own shared tent, smiling to see Dum Dum, the previous watch, and Steve lying back to back in the pallet. Bucky walked over and squatted down to touch his cold hand to Dum Dum's neck, waking the man, who gasped and growled.

"Dumbass," Dum Dum spit out as he rolled from the bed, kicking Steve and effectively waking him. Chuckling, Bucky backed off and watched Dum Dum stalk from the tent, though the large man did close the tent flap quickly to block the cold pre-dawn late-fall air from invading too drastically.

Steve shook his head and slid from the pallet to switch quickly into his uniform. "You always have to rile him, doncha?" he grumbled good naturedly, shooting a grin at his lover.

"Yup," Bucky said and left the tent to start the morning coffee and some hot mixed chow, a bit of everything they could find slopped together in one pot and treated like a stew. Last watch always cooked to give the others a chance to relieve themselves and start packing up. The men would drift over for their share in between tasks then wander back to their work. That morning, pack up was essential, especially quick and quiet; that morning they would strike the final section of the tank road.

Within the half hour the entire camp had been fed, relieved, and cleared away.

Traveling through the forest on return to the road from their hidden former camp site, the small strike team came across a snowy patch of ground among the trees. A fog lingered around their legs, hiding the ground cover and chasing any movement as a silent, deadly alert to those who watched. The men used all of their senses, listening, watching, even tasting for changes in the air, on the wind.

With his heightened senses, Steve picked up first on the sentry; he smelled the faint scent of spirits, often used for warmth. None of the Commandos had alcohol this mission. Someone else hid among the trees. Scenting, using his long-esteemed olfactory ability, Steve determined just where the interloper hid. He gave no sign that he had figured anything amiss, but Bucky seemed to tense slightly, causing a fleeting smile to cross Steve's face: his lover had also picked up on the enemy among them.

Steve knew a shot would draw attention. A sentry always needed someone in communication range to report to; he wouldn't be alone unless he carried a radio. Another take down method, a quiet one, would be needed. Muscles bunching, Steve suddenly, on a mere whisper, slipped his shield free and whirled around, spinning his body like a discus thrower, sending the large circle of metal flying in a deadly arch. It slammed into the lone figure, hiding among the branches of an overlooking tree, and ricocheted back, causing Bucky, Dernier, and Dum Dum to startle; Bucky may have known there was a watch but hadn't located it as quickly as Steve has. Reaching up as quickly as he'd launched his shield, Steve caught it on the rebound and slid the defensive weapon back on the clasps along his forearm.

The Captain turned and began leading the slow, careful march once again, making their way the last yards back to the transport road for their final tank strike.

A truck sat along the wooded roadside, idling.

'Of course it couldn't be that easy,' thought Steve. It made sense that a road would be used for more than one type of vehicle. Fuel would need to be supplied for the tanks, personnel to operate and tend them, even food and water for the troops needed to man the separate areas and depots. So, a large transport truck shouldn't have been the surprise it actually was.

Signaling to their explosives duo, Steve gave a second hand command for the others to stay hidden among the tree line, finding cover quickly, quietly. He slipped behind a larger tree and squatted down to minimize his visibility; Bucky slipped in beside him, his jacket hidden somewhat by the darker shadows among the knee-high ground cover of rocks, shrubs, and built up leaf mulch. The two smallest Commandos hurried forward, darting among shadows under Steve's watchful eyes, until they reached the truck parked by the curve of the road.

Making a nod towards Dernier, Morita moved to the far side of the truck. Both walked forward slowly, hands waist height, and for less than a second, a flicker in the dawn light denoted that the pair held something stretched between them. The men worked the ends of their wires, the individual explosives created by Howard Stark specifically for this mission, into the back wheel wells of the large truck. As Dernier finished he slid back among the trees, followed a heartbeat or two later by Morita. Once the men settled into the undergrowth near Bucky, they nodded to one another.

Dernier softly said, "Prêt, Sergent."

With a single nod, Bucky slid his rifle from his shoulder and aimed at the truck. With a fierce frown, mixed of concentration and determination, his pretty features twisted: a killer wrapped in innocence. Bucky stayed quiet, calm, as his breath slowed. Drawing a whisper of a breath, he caressed the trigger and the truck exploded, flames following the blast force, boxes and containers thrown into the air as flaming missiles which detonated in miniature imitations of the truck.

"Huhn" Dum Dum grunted, "that thing was carrying gunpowder and ordnance." He pushed his bowler hat back on his head, scratching over the hairline in his surprise.

Suddenly, gunfire sounded and chunks of tree and earth went flying. The men jumped up and began running back into the trees, firing their own weapons as they went. No one had the breath to throw recriminations; they'd allowed themselves to be surrounded while dealing with the truck. Thus, they fired at the enemy in front of their retreat as well as dodging the gunfire from those behind, across the road, following them deeper.

Knowing there would be no cover, no rescue, no respite, Steve had to do something to turn the tide. This wasn't a dead end alley back in Brooklyn, but it might work similarly in the heat of the moment. He knew, after years of being on the receiving end, that sometimes the best way to end a fight was to turn the tables on the attackers. So, amidst the gunfire, Steve Rogers did what he'd always done when faced with a foe: he turned and ran dead right at them, yelling a challenge and firing his gun.

Without missing a beat, Bucky fell into a roll and twisted, while still low on the ground, bringing his rifle up to start firing at the oncoming troops, before he, too, ran into the oncoming fray. As if on some shared signal, the rest of the small unit turned and began firing at the enemy now between them and the road. The unexpected suicidal-seeming maneuver took the other force by surprise and ended in a chase, with Howling Commandos picking off enemy combatants as they charged.

If asked if seven men could take down an entire squad of enemy soldiers in the heart of enemy territory, any one of the Commandos would have said 'Hell, no! It takes seven totally insane bass-ass mothers to take down an entire enemy squadron in the heart of enemy territory!' And each and every one of them would have been correct. Insane or not, the suicide charge worked well enough to keep the Hydra soldiers off balance, enabling the Commandos to pick them off, eliminating a larger threat.

As the last man went down under Jones' gunfire, Steve threw a hand into the air and the unit abruptly stopped, falling silent. Listening, they could hear the sounds of a heavy vehicle approaching. The Captain glanced over his shoulder, "Dernier, Morita, that's your ride."

The two smaller men took off running for the nearby road, the rest of the unit on their heels. At the road, Morita watched carefully, sliding a flashlight from one of his many pockets, holding steady. Seconds sped by in a snail's crawl and a whirlwind before Morita flashed his light and let out a whistle. Drawing a breath, Dernier ran, canister under his arm like an American football and didn't stop until he fell in the middle of the road, on his back. Slamming the canister up into the underbelly of the small personal tank as it rolled right over him, Dernier rolled to his feet behind it and reached for his neck, pressing the remote detonation triggers Howard Stark had invented.

It worked.

The tank blew into shrapnel and body parts. Dernier let out a whoop of surprised delight. The explosion had taken out precisely the correct tank as that had been the one carrying an experimental Hydra energy gun. The mission had been a success. Dernier hurried into the trees to join his team as they moved off from the chaos they'd gleefully created.

There was no time to celebrate; they had to move away from that road before the enemy could regroup. Steve signaled the Commandos to get humping back to their hidden supplies. It took over an hour to circle around the swath of destruction and a small scout party they weren't authorized to engage. In single file the seven men slipped through the forest, avoiding melting snow and mud so as not to leave blatant tracks.

Dum Dum got to the supplies first and shouldered the largest pack followed by Steve who grabbed the heaviest pack per pre-arrangement. The rest of the unit took their packs as they arrived, pausing only long enough to reload their weapons if needed and wait for their last member, Dernier as always, to arrive. Nodding at the French man's appearance, Gabe pulled out his radio transmitter and started signaling their contact for extraction.

Bucky unscrewed his canteen's top and drank a bit of water, breathing not as heavily as most of the group, despite his underweight status and the hard run. Steve stepped up to the other man and took a drink from his own canteen. "How're you holding up, Buck?" he asked softly.

Meeting his husband's eyes, Bucky nodded, smiling in return. "Not a scratch. Don't think any of us got it this run. That's good."

"Damn good," Steve grinned, glancing over the other five men. All stood quiet, drinking and recovering.

Minutes passed in cold anticipation, the unit catching their breath, before static and a broken series of code and radio chatter sounded in Gabe's handset. He looked up and softly said, "extraction at entry." All of the soldiers understood they needed to make their way back to their drop off point to meet a transport.

Finishing off his water, Steve nodded. "Let's go. Sooner we move, sooner we rest." He watched his team settle their packs and weapons then turned and led them cautiously through the woods towards the distant airstrip.

xxx

Setting: AU: Friday, November 19, 1943: Germany

After a day and a half of hard travel while trying to remain invisible, the howling Commandos stopped for the night at a burnt out barn. With a light snow falling for the past hour, the dilapidated stone structure seemed a Godsend. Slipping into the structure, quiet, small, and unnoticed, Jim Morita swept the building for an signs of the enemy. He returned to the cold, wet group and nodded. "Unless the cows and donkey have ordinance, we'll be fine until milking. They're either barren or milked already for the night."

"How can you tell the difference?" Monty asked softly as the group carefully picked their way inside, using the frozen ground as much as possible to hide their tracks. Hopefully the debilitating snow would aid in covering their passage through the moonlight.

Gesturing towards the donkey tied to a ring near the door, Morita snorted softly, "fresh hay's been laid. Don't do that for an abandoned farm. Even a city guy like me knows that."

Dernier spoke quietly to Gabe who then said, "the house will be just over that hill nearby, past the tree line. They'll be able to see light and hear anything above a whisper on such a still night. Frenchie says we've got to be alert and leave before dawn."

Knowing they'd have to be ready to move in a hurry, no one dared change or unpack their equipment; they'd go to bed hungry and cold that night. The stone barn would at least hold off the worst of the wind. The unit settled under a slant of fallen roofing to keep most of the snow off. The watch would be monitoring their shelter but the rest of the group would be more in a huddle then pairing off, keeping their designated buddy close but sharing the greater warmth of the group.

Stepping close to his husband, Steve slipped his shield off his arm and very softly said, "Gabe's next watch, but any of the guys can watch you if you feel night terror."

Bucky nodded and handed over the warm blue jacket. "We'll be fine. Quit yer worryin'," With a grin, Bucky took the shield so Steve could put on the jacket. "Need to get you one, Stevie. You're gonna bust outta mine."

Steve nodded and took his shield back, wishing he could have a few moments alone with his husband, to kiss away the hint of anxiety he saw in those pale blue eyes. "I'll ask Howard when we get back. Get some sleep, Buck."

Giving Steve a cocky grin, Bucky threw a sloppy, playful salute ten settled back to back with Gabe on the hard ground. "This okay?" he whispered to the other soldier.

With a soft snort, Gabe answered "if you don't have a problem sleeping with a negro, I've got no problem sleeping with a guy that needs a teddy bear."

In a serious tone, Bucky asked, "does that mean I get to call you Teddy?"

A snicker burst from Gabe and flowed through the small group, including Denier once Gave had enough breath to translate for him.

Striding over to the group, Steve hissed, "Stow it! Get to sleep. That's an order." He didn't mind that the group was tight and accepted one another's foibles, just that they chose to get silly in enemy territory near a possibly occupied farm house.

Gabe turned, aware that Bucky had little fat on his body after his illness and torture, and wrapped his arms around the other man from behind. Stiffening at the contact, Bucky had to force himself to breathe slowly and reminded himself that Gabe was a friend trying to help him. He slept fitfully until Steve gave over the jacket and watch to Gabe, slipping in behind his lover. Surreptitiously, he kissed the back of Bucky's neck and whispered, "sleep . . . Cariad." Though Steve butchered the pronunciation, Bucky smiled at his husband's attempts to comfort him. The pair fell into the light sleep of the soldier in a warzone.

xxx

Setting: AU: Saturday, November 20, 1943: Germany

Gabe woke the group an hour before sunrise and they gathered their belongings quickly, slipping off into the bitter darkness, snow quickly filling their tracks. They only stopped twice that long day to relieve themselves, drink quickly, and eat some cold, hard provisions directly from the packaging. No one laughed or joked that day, and no one seemed inclined to slow down, despite the sometimes treacherous ground. They were due for extraction early the next morning and still had miles to go to get to the small makeshift airstrip.

During the second rest break, around three in the afternoon, Bucky slipped up beside Steve and, cuddled into his warm jacket, cheeks and lips wind burned, said, "been an awful quiet trek, Cap."

Nodding, Steve eyed the forest surrounding them, ever alert. "Sure has, Sergeant," he responded, keeping to a professional tone. He knew that meant Bucky suspected they were close to the enemy and didn't want to give away just how important each Commando was to the others.

Gunfire to the left, sounds heavy artillery and tank," the brunet met the blond's eyes.

"Stay right," Steve commented, "keep an eye for patrols. We're near where that unit was a few days ago and we have no idea if they moved on."

Bucky nodded, slipping off on a scouting run to see if their new path was clear. Steve worried the entire time his lover was out of sight, straining to hear if he got into any trouble. If his heart hadn't been fixed by the serum, Steve felt he'd have a heart seizure in the rising anxiety. Before he could decide to send Monty after Bucky, the tall thin Sergeant returned. He paused, just in sight, and sliced a single hand through the air, waist high, to signal they should follow, though he said nothing. That meant there was enemy in their chosen direction, but Bucky felt they could deal with them.

Steve nodded and signaled to the others that break had ended.

No one complained as they began slipping through the trees after their sniper, who had a large knife in his hand. Bucky tended to keep his rifle to hand on his side if the terrain seemed too close, to avoid getting his rifle caught in the brush and trees, but no one doubted his ability with the knife, thrown or hand-to-hand. All of them were good with both gun and blade, and they had yet to find a conventional weapon Bucky didn't pick up with relative ease.

Signaling to Gabe just behind him, Bucky slid into the trees ahead. Gabe followed suit, knife in hand like Bucky. The pair came across a guard obviously guarding his own unit some distance away in the snowy forest. Gabe nodded to Bucky and moved to disable the guard when a second popped up unexpectedly, fastening his trousers. One quick thrown knife to the throat brought the enemy down with a barely audible gurgle and soft thud. Gabe dispatched the other Nazi soldier as quickly and quietly. Retrieving his knife, Bucky signaled Gabe to direct the Commandos a little further left, towards the distant sound of artillery; he watched to avoid more of those patrols.

Monty came across the next solo patrol. Quietly, he dispatched the man with a thrust of his knife to the back of the neck, supporting the body as he lowered it to the ground. Slipping over to Morita, he leaned close and warned, "too close."

Nodding, Morita darted off to alert Steve that the patrol had spread out in a larger pattern than normal. They had to circle wider, closer to the artillery, further from their destination. On high alert, everyone carried his gun or rifle at the ready, including Bucky on point, despite the thick foliage. Soon the enemy would realize their patrols had been dispatched, alerting them that Allied units were in the forest.

Heading towards the heavy fighting and large guns was dangerous, but that was safer than heading into sure close-weapons fire when the enemy found them so close to their lookouts. Not a single Commando argued, however, when Steve did just that: head his group around towards the sound of artillery fire rather than the foot patrols.

The acrid smell of explosives, decimated trees, and charred mud seeped around the stealthily moving men, kicking up with each step over mud, snow, and leaf fodder. Tension was high, every man on alert for enemy activity as they moved well within range of stray artillery shots. No one spoke and no one smoked, the tell-tale scent of cigarettes or cigars too risky on a stealth mission.

A high pitched whistling, screaming through their ears at a nearly unheard decibel, crossed close and Bucky threw Monty, the closest to him, to the ground. Steve jumped to cover Dum Dum with the shield as Morita and Dernier dove to the mud under nearby denuded branches. Gabe curled protectively over his equipment a he rolled to the ground, landing on his back. A large caliber hole appeared in the trunk of a tree close to where Dum Dum had been walking, on level with his chest.

Gabe rolled over, one arm protectively cradling his radio box, and he began crawling over the muddy ground, heading unerringly towards their distant rendezvous point. As Bucky slipped from Monty's back, another round tore a chunk of bark and tree pulp from lower down, at knee level and disturbingly close to Dernier's former position. The entire group of Commandos stuck to their bellies and crawled through the muck, low enough that enemy riflemen wouldn't be able to hit them through the foliage. The shots, however, were close enough that none of the seven dared try to rise off the ground for better speed.

No one dared call for a rest break until well over an hour after darkness blanketed the rapidly chilling land.

Steve lifted a hand, curled into a fist, and twisted his hand, barely topping his head. The entire group halted; Bucky laid his face down in the slowly freezing mud, sighing in relief at the easing of some of the tension of the last four hours. A soft touch on his hip drew the brunet's attention and he looked over at Gabe, who offered a small smile. Dum Dum slowly raised to his hands and knees then, when no firing happened, he sat up and scanned the area.

Relief washed through Monty's voice as he whispered, "are we there?" A snicker from Morita drew a glare from the staid Englishman.

"About a mile out," Steve responded, "we'll bunk here and head in before sunrise. Our pick-up is oh-five-thirty, so short shifts tonight. Morita, Dum, duty. Everyone, no fire. Pile up for warmth. Latrine three hundred feet out if you need it, the direction we came from. Let's get some rest, men." The blond-haired Captain moved over to his brunet sergeant and gave the man a searching look before pulling out his bedroll.

Offering a weary smile to his husband's back, Bucky nodded, as if their commanding officer had spoken. He moved his own bedroll to the center of the pile so he'd be surrounded by people he trusted on every side. No one wanted to chance one of his screaming nightmares that close to iRendezvous/i. Bucky slid from his warm, quilted jacket and draped it over Morita's shoulders for first watch, earning a grateful smile from the small Californian.

Restless anxiety rising higher as the minutes slid by, despite being surrounded by his friends, Bucky found he couldn't sleep. Finally, around midnight, he gave up, climbed over Steve to get out of the pile, earning a sleepy grumble, and went to take the end of Morita's watch. "Get some sleep, Jim. I got this."

Finishing his cigarette as he studied Bucky by the pale, wintry moonlight, Jim Morita finally said, "bad night, hunh? Dum Dum's next if . . ."

"Nah," Bucky cut off the other man. "I ain't sleepin' tonight. I got this. If you don't wanna wake Dum, just climb over Steve. He's used to it."

Tossing away the unfiltered butt of his cigarette, Morita nodded. "I get why you have nightmares." He rose and slid out of Bucky's jacket, handing it over.

Wincing, a frown settling over his features, Bucky nodded back and said, "yeah, damn torture haunts . . ."

Jim interrupted that time, "bullshit." He met Bucky's astonished look and shrugged. "You've seen the worse humanity's capable of, and it scares the balls of you it'll happen to the Captain. That'd kill you."

Bucky's pale eyes instantly reflected horror and wariness as he watched Morita slip over to the pile of men and climb over Steve, as suggested, causing the blond to sleepily protest, "stop crawling on me, Buck!"

Sliding into the dark blue jacket, hugging himself, Bucky slowly walked the perimeter as he worried about Morita's perceptiveness. Has he and Steve been more careless than they'd known?

xxx

Continued in Chapter Twenty-Six: when written