Queenie waited at the edge of the camp in the forest, kit prepped and ready for action, gun in hand. The camp was all packed up, the fellas' packs waiting in neat rows for them to come back, grab it, and rush to the extraction point. On the ridge above her, she could see Bucky's prone form, as he provided sniper cover for the team down below. Gunshots peppered through the damp air, accompanied by screams and shouting. A crack resounded from the ridge and she knew Bucky was keeping busy. She was grateful that there was at least one last line of defense before enemies would get to her, but she wasn't a part of the SSR for nothing. She'd been trained like the rest of them, albeit with a different focus. But she'd not been in the Army for over a year without knowing how to defend herself competently.

"Queens!" Bucky yelled suddenly. Queenie's head shot up to meet his eye. "Dugan's hit. Right thigh. Doesn't look bad from here. They're headed back, and they've got tails. You won't have time to patch it up before we get to extraction. Do what you can."

"Acknowledged," Queenie called back, keeping her response terse as they both prepared for further action. Queenie yanked out a roll of fabric from her kit and the small morphine shot, just in case Dugan needed it. At that moment, the team dashed into the clearing, each man going to his pack. Queenie at once followed Dugan. As he stood as still as possible while gathering his gear, Queenie quickly inspected the wound just above and to the right of his knee and applied a field dressing. By the time she finished, everyone was packed up and Bucky was descending the ridge as Jim watched their backs. Sounds of mayhem still reached them, but it appeared that the chaos still covered their escape. Within moments, the team was making its way through the forest with the ease of practice. This was the third mission they'd been on since that fateful day in London, and Queenie hadn't had much to do, except roll out strained muscles, treat a few minor cuts and burns, and make sure everyone was still in one piece. This would be their first major injury, and even then the only risk here was blood loss. Dugan could manage until they got to a rendezvous. They continued to dash through the woods, Gabe slipping under Dugan's shoulder for support.

"Yell for morphine, Dugan," Queenie managed between inhales. He touched his forehead in acknowledgement and she knew if he needed to, he would. They came to another ridge and ducked behind it, turning to face the captain for orders.

"Chances are that this time they're more prepared. We're gonna split up to get to the extraction. Queenie, give Dugan morphine." Steve barked out orders as she slipped out the shot and administered it, everyone breathing hard. "Gabe and Dernier go southeast, Jim and James go west, Buck and Queenie go southwest, while Dugan and I will take the original route. Got it?" As they all nodded in affirmation, Queenie handed another bandage to Dugan in case he needed it. Medicine in the heat of a battle was one thing - running from enemies was quite another. At least in the Army she'd been able to just worry about patching men up and not sprinting. Oh well, nothing for it, Queenie pouted slightly but squared her shoulders and focused on her breathing.

"They're coming!" Jim called from the back. Steve nodded.

"On my mark. Go!" Steve ordered and Gabe and Dernier dashed out. Ten seconds passed. "Go!" Jim and James left; another ten. "We're going. Buck, wait ten seconds." The two ran out, Steve close to Dugan in case he needed help. Bucky turned to Queenie.

"Ready?"

She nodded and they sprinted in their assigned direction, the yells beginning to reach them from their pursuers. Queenie focused on following Bucky and keeping her footing. A sharp whizzing near her had Bucky dragging her behind a dense grouping of trees.

"Bullets," he ground out as they continued to sprint. "Stay close to me."

Queenie nodded and put out another burst of speed, following on his heels as he zigged a path through the forest. Bullets continued to streak past them, hitting trees and spraying wood chips and snow into their faces. Queenie's lungs burned, her legs turning to jelly, her pack dragging on her shoulders. Still she followed Bucky - her life depended on it. He glanced behind at her, and she knew he noticed her growing fatigue and pain. He led her farther south, deeper into the woods. By this time Queenie was gasping for breath and slowing despite herself. He leaped over a large stone and disappeared. Queenie began to follow but her legs gave out, leaving her to crawl over the rock wall with much less finesse than Bucky. Yet, as she slid down the other side, there was a loud popping sound and she felt something slice painfully through her left bicep. Yet there was no time to contemplate what it had been as Bucky caught her. The large rock outcropping had partially covered an old gunner's nest, and Bucky pulled her deeper into the crumbling concrete structure as the German voices got louder. They huddled in the dark corner in the back, but it was unnecessary as the Germans faded away, either continuing their search or retreating back to the base. Bucky began to inspect their surroundings as Queenie's legs entirely collapsed beneath her and she sank to her knees, sweat pouring down her face, her cheeks feverishly hot from the mad dash.

"A tunnel! It leads back the way we came. I think we should follow this, rather than risk going back out there," Bucky announced his findings.

"But it could simply lead right back to the base, Brooklyn," Queenie pointed out, still focused on catching her breath. Bucky nodded, frowning as he thought.

"You still got your walkie talkie?"

"Yeah, here." Queenie pulled it from her left thigh pocket with a grimace as her sore muscles contracted under protest. Bucky took it from her and radioed the team, and it was quickly decided that they would all lay low for several hours, and meet at the extraction point by 0300. Steve would radio the extraction team to let them know the change of plans. As Bucky handed back the device, Queenie groaned as she tried to extend her left arm to take it. Suddenly fire shot up her arm as she tried to move it and she quickly dropped it with a strangled gasp.

"Queens! What is it?" Bucky immediately shifted his full attention to her, yanking out his flashlight and aiming it on her arm. "Queenie… you're hurt! You've been shot!" Queenie looked down at her arm in the light. Blood was seeping through the fabric. With a small cry, she shrugged out of her pack and jacket, Bucky helping while still holding the light. He grabbed her kit from her and opened it.

"What do you need?"

"I need to get this bullet out," Queenie said distantly, as she inspected the wound. It was the oddest feeling, having to analyze herself the way she analyzed injured soldiers. It was almost like looking at her body from the outside, but every spear of pain reminded her that reality was otherwise. "Tweezers," she decided, shaking off the strange sensation. Bucky assisted Queenie as she carefully dug out the bullet from her arm. It wasn't too deep, and she didn't need much force to pull it out, but having to hold her injured arm out so she could see it while also retrieving the bullet multiplied the pain. Nausea rose in her throat as the smell of her own blood and her own acute pain drowned out other thoughts.

"Morphine?" Bucky asked softly, his forehead creased deeply, as if he hated every moment of her pain. Queenie knew the next step would be to close the wound via needle and thread, so she decided the shot would be more helpful to have now rather than later.

"Please. And then if you could thread the needle, I would be most grateful," she said, trying to keep her tone calm and measured, despite her growing hysteria. While Bucky administered the shot and then dug for the requested items in her pack, Queenie shook herself mentally - she'd never been averse to blood or needles ever in her life, but what was it about having to operate on herself that made her react so? She was just another injured soldier. Queenie gritted her teeth, determined to sew up the wound herself, but had barely managed to put the needle to her skin when she gasped.

"Oh, Bucky, I can't," Queenie gasped, Bucky jumping instantly to her side, as she forced air into her lungs. "Bucky, you have to finish this," Queenie ground out, spots dancing in her vision. Bucky switched tools with her, handing her the light and taking over the closing and binding of the injury, while she focused on breathing the spots away. Her traitorous mind still wasn't entirely occupied with pain, since she noticed his own anxiety as he stitched up her wound as gently and as quickly as he could. The small part of her brain reminded her how handsome his face looked, even in the gloom of the abandoned gunner's nest.

By the time Bucky finished wrapping the bandage snugly around her arm, the morphine was kicking in and Queenie felt more lucid and calm, the pain not nearly as drowning as before. He helped her to sit down, her pack at her back as a makeshift pillow and he laid her jacket over her legs as a blanket. Next, he pulled out their rations for dinner and the two ate in companionable silence, Queenie moving slowly. The pain was ever present, but muted, and her head felt heavy and light at the same time. Drowsiness tugged at her, but Queenie forced herself to stay awake. She didn't complain once, but her stiff muscles and still burning arm made their presence known. Bucky watched her carefully, before seizing upon a topic of conversation to distract her mind and keep her awake.

"You know, that's the first time you've called me Bucky, Queens," he noted with a twinkle in his eye. She stopped and thought, as finally, blessedly, her limbs began to go numb. Anything was better than that stabbing, fiery pain, she decided.

"So it is. And which do you prefer?" Queenie asked gamely, now that she was more comfortable.

"Doll, you can call me anything you like; just don't call me late for dinner," he teased, and she laughed softly.

"You were only introduced to ME as Bucky Barnes."

"James Buchanan Barnes, at your service, ma'am," he replied with a flourish. "And you? I assume your Ma had the decency to name you something besides Queens."

"No, she didn't, but my father did. He named me after his mother, but I've never liked that name. I've always thought it inelegant, so I went by Queens or Queenie. My Ma picked it up after my dad left."

Queenie wrinkled her nose at the thought of her father. But she shoved his face away from her mind.

"And what is this inelegant name, if I may be so bold to enquire?" he asked, taking the last bite of his rations.

Queenie hesitated, fiddling with her empty wrapper. She laid it aside with a sigh. Oh well, there's no getting around it.

"Ethel Grace."

"Ethel Grace. You're right, that's not elegant." Bucky stated, causing Queenie to smirk bitterly at her hands. "It's gorgeous."

She looked up sharply at him.

"You're pulling my leg."

"No, I'm not. I love the name Ethel. My mother's name is Ethel."

"Well, I'd rather be named after your mother than my paternal grandmother. The woman didn't teach her son enough about loyalty," Queenie declared passionately.

"Do you mind me asking about your dad?" Bucky asked hesitantly. He was quick to add, "We don't have to talk about you if you don't want to, though."

"Not like we've got anything else to do." Queenie gave a disinterested shrug, steeling herself. "My dad was always a bit distant, but when I was really little, I used to love him and admire him so much. I would do anything to try to make him smile." Queenie's traitorous heart still gave a little twinge as even now, a tiny part of her wished he'd be proud of her. Queenie had never had to wonder about her mother's feelings about her. Her mother… "But my Ma, she encouraged my independence, taught me to throw a punch as good as anybody, and did my schooling herself. I guess my Ma was too much for him or I wasn't enough reason for him to try to make it work. All I know is one day he walked out and never came back." That dark day had only been bearable because of her mother. When Queenie's heart lurched again, this time, it was for her mother's sake. "Ma and I became the Dynamic Duo, just her and me. The rest you know," she finished, finally meeting his eyes. It had taken a very long time, but Queenie's father had no more power over her. Her father's failures would not diminish her spirit, no sir. And she'd be damned if she allowed any other man to do the same to her as her father had to her mother - abandon her and their child. For a long moment, both were silent with their thoughts, a tension in the air. Queenie told herself she didn't care what Bucky thought of her situation, and yet couldn't explain why she waited with bated breath to see what he'd say. He faced the ground, not allowing her to see the emotions that played over his eyes while he processed her story.

"That's despicable," Bucky finally declared in a low voice. Queenie gave him a brilliant smile as a reward for that answer, strain leaching from her as she saw the firm conviction in his eyes. He was genuinely angered by the story, and Queenie selfishly relished the dark condemnation he gave.

"It's alright now. It took me too damn long to get over it, but he can't hurt me anymore," Queenie replied stoutly, and he smiled back. A man shouldn't be allowed to look at a girl like that; it's just not fair...

"But doesn't anybody write to you? You don't have a string of beaux writing you letters from the front? Or cousins sending you things from home?" Bucky continued, the mood alleviated now.

"No other family, and certainly no beaux," Queenie laughed. "Most fellas want a girl to be impressed with their physique. I can't be impressed, I'm a nurse. I've seen them in their skivvies and worse, all I care about is getting 'em back on their feet to be someone else's problem. How about you? I bet you've got all the girls swooning over you, handsome."

"You think I'm handsome?" he asked coyly, cocking an eyebrow and she laughed once more, although her heart skipped a beat as that look highlighted his strong cheekbones and sharp jawline.

"You don't care what I think. You know you're good looking. Answer my question," she replied somewhat breathlessly.

"Nah, I don't have any girls 'sides my sisters and my mother writing to me."

"Tell me about your family," Queenie suggested curiously as Bucky cleaned up from their meager dinner. "How many siblings do you have? I've always wanted a brother or a sister."

"Well, I'm the oldest, then there's Rosie, Louisa, and Todd. Rosie's eighteen, engaged, and is a teacher, and Todd was gonna be a world-famous ace pilot, you see."

"Ah, of course. The only suitable career for a-"

"Seven year old."

"Seven year old." Queenie nodded mock-seriously. "And Louisa?"

"Louisa's fourteen, and wants to do something dramatic, so an actress or a nurse." Bucky grinned in remembrance, eyes dancing.

"And do you have any young men to chase away from her? You said Rosie's engaged," Queenie pressed, heart aching as she longed once more for the large, tight knit family she always wished she'd had.

"Yeah, Rosie's guy was shipped out about the same time I was, though. I haven't heard from either him or Rosie in a while, but I expect to have quite the stack once we get back to headquarters. I hope he's okay, though. The two of them are the nicest people you've ever met. I like him, but he's a bit too quiet for me. But they love each other, so how could I stand in the way just because I'm a little picky? I'm not the one marrying him," Bucky laughed, eyes distant with memory, and while his attention was elsewhere, Queenie gazed unashamedly at his face in the dim glow of the flashlight. Such strong, bold lines! What would it feel like to stroke his face with her fingertips? She quickly tamped down that thought as he kept speaking. "Louisa had a few boys chase her recently, but I think she's a bit too high strung for anyone as of yet. As Mother says, she's got a bit more growing up to do."

"And I bet Todd wants to be just like you when he grows up, huh?" Queenie asked softly, her own stare turning glazed as she grew absorbed with her thoughts. A vision of a little boy gazing adoringly at Bucky grew in her mind's eye.

"Yeah, that's what Mother says. When I left, Toddie was still little, and to be honest, I didn't really know him all that well. He was just too little. But I love 'em all to pieces."

The affectionate way he spoke of them, the love that clearly shone in his face while he described their antics, Queenie could hardly bear it. All her life, it had been her and her mother, but how she longed for brothers and sisters! She'd secretly sworn to herself that she would have as many children as she could. Bucky took his turn scrutinizing the planes of her face, as Queenie absently fiddled with the bandage on her arm while she thought. She wished that even for a moment, she could meet his family, see the way he interacted with them, feel what it was like to be so completely surrounded by love.

"That sounds wonderful, though. A family like that," Queenie said after a while, trying her best to keep the wistfulness from her tone. A guy like him, who obviously loved his family, would surely want a big family of his own, too, just like her…

"They are wonderful," Bucky echoed, studying her intently. "Say, how about this?" he exclaimed softly, as an idea struck him. "How about you come over to dinner sometime after this war's ended, huh?"

"That'd be fun, Bucky. I'd love that, truly!" Queenie pressed her hand to her heart, as if the pressure could keep the organ from fluttering. Her wish! How had he known? Once more the vision of children resembling Bucky floated in her mind.

And once more, Bucky watched her shrewdly as she lost herself in her daydream. She pushed away the nagging voice that reminded her about men, about the two men who'd hurt her, about why her daydream was just a daydream…

"I'll take first watch, Ethel. Get some sleep," he said finally, seemingly coming to a conclusion about something. Queenie quickly snapped herself out of her thoughts with a grin.

"Aw, Buck, no one but my Ma calls me Ethel. Stick with Queenie or Queens like everyone else," Queenie complained, but didn't have to be told twice to rest. As if brought on by his words, the drowsiness of the morphine returned full force, and she shifted slightly in preparation for sleep. But a soft question had her freezing.

"Do you want me to be like everyone else?"

Queenie tried hard not to look at him, knowing that her eyes would surely betray just how much she wanted him to mean to her. She needed to get a hold of herself! But as if by some magnetic force she could not stop, her eyes were pulled to his brown ones, unreadable and fathomless. Her breath stuttered in her throat. His eyes were deep pools that she could easily be lost in and it was a herculean effort to bring herself back to reality.

"I- I don't know if I should answer that. Fraternization and all," she whispered finally, still unable to breathe despite the pounding of her heart.

"Right. Fraternization."

Bucky glanced away at last, his words hollow and dull, leaving Queenie to squirm into a comfortable position, feeling both oddly relieved and entirely bereft.