Chapter 15: Enemy Lines

October 1, 1943

It was a clear, warm morning. The Italian countryside was a rainbow of reds and greens and golds as autumn gently rolled in from the north, and with it came a breath of new beginnings. Unfortunately, those beginnings were not good.

Bucky leaned against one of the posts of the command tent, waiting with the other officers and squad leaders as their CO took his time fiddling with papers at the front. They didn't know whether he was waiting for someone specific or if he was just putzing around for dramatic effect, but either way they were all getting restless and nervous and frustrated. Something was about to change, and Bucky just wanted to know what it was. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the CO stacked his papers together and set them down, resting his hands on the table and looking out at the crowd. Bucky idly noticed that he wasn't meeting any of their eyes. The room quieted to an unnatural stillness, waiting for whatever he was going to say.

"Azzano has been overrun." he said. His normally flat voice actually had some gravity to it, betraying how heavy the situation was. He wasn't done. "And reinforcements aren't coming. At least, not to us." There it was. Bucky almost left right then, not wanting to hear anything else. He knew what was coming next, and it meant it was time for him to make his peace with this world. "We are the closest forces. We need to move immediately, and hold the line so they don't get further into Italy."

Nobody moved.

No one wanted to go and tell their men that they were going into the belly of the beast. No one wanted to tell them that they were the last line of defense. The CO expected them to put on a brave face and give their squads a rousing speech and convince them that they weren't going to certain death. They were supposed to hold their chins up and believe what they said, because otherwise the men would see right through them. Their minds were to be focused on one thing and one thing only: the battle in front of them.

But all Bucky could think of was Lu. He got a sudden vision of her waiting in the hospital, wondering if he was going to return. Would she be noticeably worried, enough that Angela would ask what was on her mind? Or would she just pace between the rows of beds, listening for any sounds of a convoy coming back? The people around him started to move, getting their orders from the officer at the front yelling squad numbers and locations. Bucky listened just long enough to get his marching orders before turning sharply on his heel and walking out of the tent. He knew he needed to gather his squad, but first he needed to pay a visit to the med tent. If he was going to die, then he was going to make sure she knew how he felt about her.

The med tent was moving with chaotic grace. Each person knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing, but had to contend with every other person that was trying to do their job. His eyes scanned the room quickly, clocking each face of every nurse and physician, but he couldn't find Lu. There was a moment of panic, and he started looking for Angela - surely she would know where her counterpart was - but he couldn't find her either. He backed out before anyone took notice of him, moving around back to find a whole other group of medical professionals artfully packing Jeeps. And there, at the center of it all, was his angel. He would never call her that out loud, of course, but he could think it as much as he wanted. She spotted him, and something in her face made his heart jump into his throat. Why were they packing up? She tore her eyes away from his, turning to say something to Angela before making a bee line for him. As she got closer, he recognized the look. She was scared. As she stopped in front of him he realized her hair was completely pulled back, and instead of her white uniform she had on the olive green field fatigues.

"Doc. What's going on?" he asked lowly, his heart beat rising with each bag that got tossed onto the back of a truck. She rolled her lips in for a second, taking a measured breath before finally bringing herself to answer.

"They're sending a field team out with you guys." she said. She sounded slightly breathless, trying in vain to control her emotions. He'd never seen her like this before, and it only made him more worried.

"No. No that's a bad idea. You...you guys could get hurt." he said. His half-assed speech that he'd tried to piece together on his walk over here crumbled immediately, replaced by concern over this turn in events. She blinked, surprised by his response, though unsure why.

"It's our orders." she said, straightening up to her full height in an effort to seem brave. His heart swelled with affection for her, overcoming his fear just enough that it was reduced to a simmer in his stomach.

"It's gonna be okay." he said. She'd seen horrors that he would never experience, and was as acquainted with death as any of the soldiers here. But she'd never been out on the battlefield, and that was a completely different world. "I'm gonna take care of you - I'll protect you-"

"You can't promise that, Barnes." she said. She meant for her voice to be stern, but it came out quiet and defeated. She may not know battle, but she knew how war worked.

"Well I'll try my damnedest." he replied, taking hold of her hand. The gesture was unprofessional at best and improper at worst, but she allowed it, not wanting to let go of the warmth. "I'm too stubborn to die, and I know you're gonna outlive me on spite alone so-"

"You're an idiot." she said, looking away from him so that he couldn't see how glassy her eyes were getting. She blinked back the emotions, taking a second to compose herself before turning back to him. "You realize then that you're not allowed to do anything stupid."

"Since when have I done anything stupid?" he asked, making her laugh and roll her eyes.

"You do stupid things all the time!" she exclaimed, holding on to this brief moment of normalcy before their entire world was knocked sideways. He grinned at her, squeezing her hand tighter.

"Name one stupid thing I've done." he said, and her jaw dropped in response.

"Just one?" she asked incredulously. "How about the time you got shot. Or the time you nearly died from infection-"

"That wasn't my fault!"

"Maybe not, but I'm sure it could be. Or the time you got blown up-"

"Again, not my fault!"

"You shot a grenade-"

"Well yea, to blow up Nazis-"

"Or the time you decided to-"

"Okay, okay, okay, you made your point." he said. He looked her in her eyes, watching as the mirth drained from her face. He squeezed her hand one more time. "Keep a sharp eye out, okay? You're smart. You can stay one step ahead."

"If you stay one step ahead, I can stay two." she said, her voice barely above whisper. He glanced down at her lips, a little extra pink from her biting them all morning. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her. But the chance for that would just have to be his reason to keep fighting. He gave her a half grin, letting go of her hand just so he could place it on her cheek. There was no powder on her skin - they must have called the girls so early that they didn't have time to put on any makeup. He still found her beautiful.

"Atta girl." he said. She rolled her eyes, the movement allowing her to lean her cheek further into his touch. The tender moment couldn't last, one of the nurses calling her back over to help continue loading the trucks. She pulled away from him, a caution on her lips, but she abandoned it after deciding it would be bad luck. He watched her go before turning himself, traversing the long walk across camp to go tell his men the bad news.

Later, he would say that he didn't remember talking to his men. He would say that the whole afternoon and evening was a blank space in his brain. But the truth was he remembered every second of it. He remembered the look on Howard's face when he broke the news. He could still hear the harsh clacking as Williams put his rifle back together, the parts cleaned and oiled. Murphy was the last one into the truck, crossing himself in hopes that God would protect him. Every bump in the road was engraved into his brain, with the sound of the truck carved in like an endless record on repeat. For a long time, all he could hear was gunshots and the sound of the truck.

The sun had already started setting by the time they reached the front, painting the sky bloody shades of red and purple. "A red sky don't bode well." Murphy said. No one responded; no one knew how to. They could hear the pop-pop-pop in the distance as guns sang their staccato chorus, calling them all home. There was no time for a pep talk, no time for last goodbyes, no time for bets on who could take out the most enemies. A mortar landed at the front truck, exploding underneath it and throwing it onto its side. The other trucks skidded to a stop, soldiers spilling out of their depths and organizing like the well oiled machine the movies said they were. Too bad another mortar landed, throwing all the nuts and bolts and cogs into complete disarray. There were no squads, no groups - it was now just one team versus another.

Bucky heard the shouts of the other men and took off running. The men behind him needed him, yes, but the men in front of him needed him more. He could hear the whistling of the mortars as they sailed through the air, and dodged accordingly. He ignored all advice and protocol and climbed to the top of a hill, pausing to get his bearings and get a sense of the situation.

Turns out, the situation was shit.

Flames consumed the entire village, most of the buildings already crumbled to nothing but charred masses in the dark. Soldiers in the same black armor that he saw during his mission with Falsworth moved in steady steps, guns trained and finding their targets. Bucky brought up his rifle and dropped to the ground, hoping that he hadn't given his position away. He took a breath and held it, forcing his heart rate to slow down and his hands to steady. The ground was solid underneath him, holding him, supporting him. Despite the bedlam in front of him, he noticed that the grass was unusually soft.

The smoke gave him a good idea of the wind, making his adjustments that much faster. He didn't think about the hundreds of soldiers in front of him, instead just picking one of them. The force moving in such a steady, synchronized motion definitely helped the intimidation factor, but it also made it very easy to track where they were going. Bucky picked his one, analyzed his path, and took the shot. The bullet sank into his neck, the blood of his carotid spurting black thanks to the wall of flames behind him. One soldier down.

He took out seven more before he started spotting allied fatigues spilling onto the field, the olive drab turning brown in the firelight. He put up his rifle and pushed himself to his feet, running back down the hill before going around and joining the other men in the fray. Everything was worse down here, much worse than he thought when he was up on the hill, much worse than any battle he'd been in before.

The tell-tale whistle sounded again, forcing him to cut to the left and jump into a mortar trench. He leaned his back against the high side, taking a moment to catch his breath and look back behind him. There were fewer soldiers that way than he thought there would be; the enemies must have been aiming their bombs very well. There was no sign of Howard or Williams or Murphy or any of the other guys in his squad, which added another layer of fear onto him. Another man collapsed in the trench with him, and Bucky had to take a second look before he realized the man was wearing a bowler hat instead of a helmet. Dugan. Son of a bitch.

"There's gotta be five mortar companies out there!" he yelled, his voice cracking since he had to be so loud. Bucky didn't know if he was stating a fact or lodging a complaint, but either way it wasn't particularly helpful. Another man joined them - Bucky knew his last name was Jones, but his first name escaped him at that moment.

"Any word on backup?" he yelled back. Everything was falling apart, he needed to find his men, he needed to find-

"That might be tough!" Jones yelled back, holding up his radio and showing off how it had a few holes in it that it hadn't had previously.

"Bucky! Behind you!" Dugan called, and Bucky didn't even take a second to think about how they really weren't good enough friends yet for him to refer to him as Bucky before turning and sighting every black uniform he could find. A blast nearby shook his feet, and a stray bullet actually took the bowler hat off of Dugan's head. Bucky was sure somehow, someway, the man would find it again. But that wasn't what he was concerned about right now.

"Enemy coming!" he said, noticing the large shape shifting in the dark. He moved to the other edge of the trench, trying to figure out exactly where he needed to shoot. Again the enemy moved in slow precision, allowing him to pick them off like fish in a barrel. Dugan was next to him, so close that his ears were ringing from his gun shots. At least he wasn't alone, which was a comfort in and of itself - especially when suddenly, through the site, he saw men simply disappear and leave behind nothing but a weird glowing smoke. He paused, thinking that maybe he'd gotten a head injury that he'd forgotten about, because that had to be a hallucination. But then it happened again, the blue glow fading where men once stood.

The field quieted, the land growing still as if the battle were over. But Bucky knew better. This was the calm before the storm. He pulled himself out of the trench, Dugan and Jones following him, as they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. More blue appeared in the distance, shots firing from something unseen. And when the weapon finally came into view, Bucky wished he'd never laid eyes on it.

"That looks...new." Dugan said. If he was trying to lighten the mood, it failed miserably. Headlights from the massive tank fanned over them, momentarily blinding him. But then they saw the massive muzzle of the gun as it turned with unreal precision - and pointed right at them.

"Duck!" he said, grabbing whatever parts of the two men he could and throwing himself back into the trench. They landed roughly on the ground, taking in a mouthful of dirt, but that was the least of their worries right now. "Run! We need to run!" They probably couldn't outrun the tank, but they had to try.

A good half a kilometer away, Lu was trying to tie a tourniquet tight enough so that the soldier in front of her may just lose an arm and not his life. All pretense of sterile fields and sanitation were kind of blown out the window; there was no time to change gloves between patients, or to don personal protective equipment. She just had to work quickly to save as many men as she could. Each blast that sounded threatened to lock her in her mind, to throw her back to that day at Pearl, but she forced herself to breathe and to focus. Just one more patient. One more soldier, and then she could collapse into a sobbing mess. Just one more death check, and then she could give in.

She dragged another man back to the Jeeps, depositing him near enough that the boys could load him into the back. The truck bed was quickly filling, but the injury count was nowhere near the count of bodies splayed across the grass. She couldn't tell which parts of the land were dark with dirt from the explosions or with blood from the injuries, but she tried to avoid them all the same. Just one more. Just one more. They were out of surgical tape, but there'd been a roll of duct tape in the truck, so she was using that to secure her dressings, most of which were just rolls of gauze packed into open wounds in the hope that they would hold until the men could be transported back.

"Ah!" the man in front of her yelled in pain as she sank to her knees next to him, snapping her back to the present. The ground was wet; was it water, or blood? She didn't have time to find out. She roughly pulled the man's hands from his leg so she could assess the wound, sharply moving her head to the right so that she didn't get sprayed in the face with arterial blood. Shit. She slapped her hand over it, ignoring another howl of pain and the soldier's screeching whatthefuckareyoudoingtomeyoubitch. She grabbed his hand and, after taking a deep breath and counting to three, removed her own and placed his finger over the tear in his artery.

"Do not move your hand from here, okay?" she said in a voice that would make a commanding officer or her mother proud. When the soldier, with his wide eyes and pale face, nodded, she pulled out her duct tape and secured his hand to his leg, just to make it that much easier for him. "You move your hand, you die for sure."

"I may die anyways?!" he exclaimed, but Lu was no longer paying attention to him. She stood, waving her flashlight to get the attention of two of the boys. Once they saw her call, she moved on, ignoring the soldier as he now wondered aloud where she was going. She was so focused scanning the ground for fallen soldiers that she nearly ran over Angela, who was frozen on her knees next to a dead man. Even in the dark, Lu could see the bloodstains all over her uniform, and how her hands, gripping her legs, were shaking like leaves in a hurricane. She reached out to hold her hands, helping to still them.

"You're okay, Angela." she said, just loud enough for the other girl to hear her over the explosions. Angela took a sharp breath that sounded more like a sob.

"They just…" she left the sentence hanging, but Lu could fill it in with any number of truths. They just keep fighting. They just keep getting hurt. They just keep dying.

"You can't save everyone." Lu said, her knuckles white as she held onto her. It was a hard truth, one that she'd learned nearly two years prior. "But there are still plenty of people you have saved, and plenty more than you can still save. You're doing great."

Angela looked at her with her big brown doe eyes, slowly nodding as the words sunk in. She opened her mouth to respond, but a resounding boom stole both of their attention. Lu's eyes snapped to where the sound came from, her heart dropping as she spotted the massive tank rolling up onto the battlefield. It was bigger than anything she'd ever seen, and the blue shot that came from it was definitely something different too. Her blood went cold.

"Ang, go back to the trucks." she said quietly. She started scanning the field; where was Barnes? Was he caught in that explosion? Was he hurt? Was he dead?

"What? But that - we may need to-" she tried to form a sentence through her fear, but Lu moved and grabbed her by her arms. She knew she was holding too tight, but she had to get her point across.

"Angela, go back to the trucks, and tell them to go back to camp. And go back with them." she said. Angela blinked a few times before shaking her head.

"What about you? Lucille I don't want to leave you." she said, her eyes shining with tears and reflecting the orange glow of the fire.

"I'm right behind you, okay? I just need to check something first." she replied. They both knew it was a lie, but Angela needed to believe it. Lu shook her a little. "Go! I'll catch up."

Angela stood up on shaky legs, and with one last look at her friend, took off running towards the trucks. Lu watched her for a moment, then turned and started going towards the explosions.

She dropped into every trench she found, yelling for Barnes and telling whatever men she found to go back to the trucks, to retreat. Was it her call, or her orders that they needed to follow? No. But if a bloody blonde banshee tells a man to run, he listens. There were a few smartasses of course, saying I can be Barnes for you, but she ignored them. If they weren't Barnes, they didn't matter. Her panic was rising, and she found herself also glancing over the motionless bodies on the grass, scared that the next face she was going to see would be his. She spotted the next trench, this one with a soldier sporting a bowler hat, and jumped into it, narrowly missing a barrage of bullets.

"Barnes?" she called, addressing all the men in the trench. Their faces turned towards her and she quickly scanned them: bowler man with a mustache, a black man, a man with a cut across his face, and- "Barnes!"

"Doc?!" he asked, looking like he was seeing a ghost. Or a dream. Forgetting decorum she jumped on him, holding him tightly. She could hear the other men taking jabs at them, but he was alive and he was well enough to nearly crush her to his chest to return her embrace, and that was all her mind was able to focus on at the time. He put her down, smoothing her hair away from her face and checking her body for injuries. "Jesus fucking Christ, Doc, you look a mess-"

"It's not mine." she said, shaking her head. "Look, we need to go, that tank-"

"That's what we were working on, doll." the man with the handlebar mustache said.

"You shouldn't have come out here, you could've gotten shot, or -" Barnes couldn't finish, letting go of her and quickly turning back to the wall with his rifle at the yell of some of the men. There were even more troops coming now, fanning out to cover the whole line. Whenever Bucky shot one down, another one seamlessly took his place. It was like they were infinite.

"They're surrounding us." he said suddenly, putting his rifle down. He looked to the left and to the right; sure enough, black shadows moved along the edges of the field. "Doc, you gotta go-"

"Not without you-"

"That's an order, Peters-"

"I outrank you, Barnes-"

"Doc!"

"No!" she said it so sharply that he dropped his eyes from the impending doom and back to her. The fire in her glare matched the one surrounding them, somehow seeming to burn with a deeper heat.

"I think you need to listen to the lady, Bucky." Dugan commented. Both of them ignored him.

"I came here to get you. And I'm not leaving without you." she said, her hands flexing as if she wanted to reach for him but was holding herself back.

"These guys…" he glanced toward the front, could see the lines of allied soldiers being led away at gunpoint, their hands in the air. "They're taking prisoners, Doc. Please." he couldn't think of anything else to say, any way to convince her that she needed to save herself.

"And how are you gonna survive a concentration camp without me?" she said, fear making her voice shake. She had a choice, and she was making it.

"We got two options," Dugan interrupted, making them both acknowledge that he was there. "Either we play dead, or we start runnin'. Pick."

The crunch of boots nearby warned them of the coming squadron, and without thinking or asking Bucky shoved Lu to the ground, pulling off his uniform jacket and laying it over her. "Stay down, Doc, you hear me?" he said through clenched teeth. He had a chance to take out a few more of those fuckers, but if he somehow failed…

He swung his rifle around, joining in with Dugan and Jones as they shot the advancing line. But no matter how many men he sent to hell, another one would replace him. What they fuck were they just multiplying? Shot after shot after shot-

And then, the worst sound a sharpshooter could hear. An empty chamber. His magazine was empty, as were the bags at his belt. "I'm outta ammo!" he yelled, looking down the line for anyone who had some to spare. But next to him, Dugan also ran out of rounds, and Jones had long ago given up on his empty pistol and was trying in vain to fix the radio. They were well and truly fucked. Lu was no longer hiding but sitting with the jacket slung over her shoulder, and Bucky dropped down to put a hand on her and guide her back to the ground. "Don't move, Doc. You stay still and you make it out of here." he said. She lifted the sleeve up enough just so he could see her glare - and her tears. "Don't worry about me. I'm stupid, but I'm resilient." he said.

"Hands in the air!" a man yelled in German. Bucky lifted his hands, giving Lu one last, longing glance before slowly turning to face the voice. It was just another nameless, faceless soldier in black. But this one had a machine gun trained right on his chest. He gestured at Lu's still form. "Get him up!"

"He's dead." Bucky replied. He could've spoken in German, but he wanted to hold that card under his hat until he needed it. The dumber they could appear, the more their opponent would underestimate them. More soldiers arrived, shoving them with gun muzzles and ordering them to get out of the trench and start walking. Bucky made himself keep his eyes forward, counting his steps and his breaths and doing everything he could to make sure he didn't look back and give Lu away. But he heard the scream anyway, turning sharply to find another soldier dragging her by her hair and shoving her in the line with the rest of them. She tried to fight him until he smacked her across the face; she stumbled, but stayed upright, an angry red mark already appearing on her cheek. Bucky could've sworn he'd just gotten shot the way his heart was hurting. She fell in line with the rest of them, hands above her head and the most defiant look she could manage on her face, though he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she hyperventilated. A black mask appeared in front of him, poking his sternum with a rifle. He didn't need to know German to understand the sentiment. Turn around. Start walking.

He didn't want to know if she'd been found by accident or on purpose. Either way, he vowed to himself that he was going to protect her. He had a lot of strikes in his average, and she was not going to be one of them.


And this is when things start going downhill. But at least are heroes are together...right?

We made it to 100 reviews! Holy shit! Thank you so so so so much for your wonderful feedback and support of me and these two idiots. Each review was great encouragement and breathes life into my motivation. Y'all are seriously the best, and I don't know what I'd do without you!

Thank y'all so much for taking the time to read this story! I hope you liked this update, please please please drop a line and tell me what you thought!

-XM