Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes – Bucky to everyone except for his mother and apparently Dum Dum Dugan – was dying. He knew he was dying – was probably going to die in here. But it really did no one any good to go around talking about it. He wasn't in any denial about the fact. He knew how he felt and that it hadn't been getting any better. He'd been around enough illness to know when it was serious. To know when it was hopeless without intervention.
And even if there was any intervention to be had in here, Bucky was sure he didn't want it.
Gabe and Dum Dum could prattle on at him all they wanted about him laying off of the sabotages against HYDRA. Truth was that a few of those bouts of clumsiness weren't just an act. Sometimes he honestly couldn't get enough air in, and his brain just…turned all the lights out. His grip was weak on some of the glass jars and things slipped.
None of this particularly bothered Bucky. He'd come to terms with the likelihood of him dying in this war a long time ago. No fuss or agonising over it; Bucky was OK with that inevitability. As long as it meant something. It was for something. He took down as many of the 'bad guys' as he could with him. He wanted his death to matter to someone. Just so happened that it could really matter to the guys who were locked in here with him.
Bucky didn't really think there was any hope for them breaking out of this camp. He wasn't stupid, but he did realise he was in a position of influence as an NCO. Never mind that his influence was small. It was still there. And he couldn't have all of these men slogging around, resigned to the fact that they would die here and that they might as well just get along with it. To win the war, they had to lose a few battles. Bucky was OK with his life being one of those battles lost, as long as the rest of the guys kept up the effort for the war.
They might not break out, but they could carry on sabotaging. They had to keep fighting and stay alive until another force came to help. Because someone would come. Someone had to come. Even if he didn't believe it himself, Bucky repeated the line and the thought as often as he could. For the rest of the men's sakes. They needed it.
If he was going to buy the farm in here, which was growing more and more likely every minute, then it made sense to him to take the heat off the rest of the guys. The dumb kids who weren't as good at hiding their sabotages. The ones who were just nervous, scared, clumsy…Bucky took the fall for those guys. Because it made sense. He was going to die anyway, so he might as well take the beatings from the guards for the healthy guys.
It was practical. It made sense. All the guys knew it. They understood it. If they were in Bucky's position, there was no doubt they'd do the same thing. You had to sacrifice a few pieces to win a chess game. So, despite the constant reprise he told Gabe and Dum Dum, they all knew full well that Bucky was not "fine." But he couldn't go around saying that.
"Sarge," someone was saying to him. Based on the inflection, Bucky suspected they'd been trying to get his attention for some time.
"Huh?" he said. It really was more of an exhale with a bump in it.
"Can you sit up?" That was Gabe's voice then, right? "Day's water is here."
"Kay." His heart pulsed something nauseating against the inside of his skull. The edges of his ribs were surely cracking anew. Bucky swore he could feel the fluid that had collected in his lungs sloshing around as he pushed himself up. As much as he'd like to pretend otherwise, sitting upright was going to cost too much effort right now. He slumped against the bars of their cell instead.
"Here."
Someone put both of his hands around the thin metal cup they shared. Fingers not feeling particularly cooperative, Bucky shouted at his brain to tell his hands not to drop it. He wasn't really thirsty, so a few spills wouldn't bother him any. But wasting any water would only make the rest of the guys suffer.
It occurred to him around then that there was a conversation going on. It was moving too fast for him to keep up. He couldn't even track it with his eyes. One of those blows with the missile casing had made his vision go soft around the edges and blurry if he moved his eyes too fast. Just trying to look from Monty to Frenchie to Dum Dum was making things start to swirl in his gut. A cough bubbled up Bucky's throat and burst out of his mouth. He had enough presence of mind to deliberately set the metal cup down as far away from himself as possible before curling into a tight ball. He tried to hold his drowning lungs and grinding ribs together with the pressure. But the coughing wouldn't stop and someone was starting to talk really loud but black spots were popping up in front of him so he couldn't see what was—
"You don't have to worry about that asshole anymore, Jimmy."
And Bucky realised that his eyes were, in fact, open and looking at something. For how long? He blinked until the blobs of colour before him turned into Dum Dum Dugan.
"What?"
"Lohmer's fuckin' gone," Dum Dum repeated. There was the smile that Bucky knew better than to trust.
"How?" Something had definitely happened. Had he blacked out? Bucky couldn't remember blacking out for that long before. He couldn't have missed an entire day on the floor? Impossible. But he can't have stayed in the cell the whole time. They'd've never allowed it.
"Oh, you know. Just a little accident out on the shop floor. You know how we're always fumbling with equipment. Something was bound to happen sooner or later."
Bucky glared at him. "Stupid."
"Not any more stupid than what you've been pulling."
"Says you."
"Yeah, says me. Now budge up. It's getting fuckin' cold, and you're the only warm thing in this dump." Dum Dum was moving around, re-arranging things until Bucky was propped up against his side, Dum Dum's arm around his shoulder. In a voice that was so soft you'd've thought someone's mother was dying, Dum Dum said, "You gonna stay awake this time?"
"Mmm."
"If your buddy Steve can get over pneumonia every winter, you can do it just this once, huh?"
"Right."
Never mind that Steve had about ten times the heart and determination that Bucky did.
He blacked out again. He must have. That was the only explanation for all the time that appeared to have slid by. Because Dum Dum wasn't next to him anymore; the Frenchman was propping him up now. Gabe was on Bucky's other side. They made eye contact and he could just read the apprehension in Gabe's expression.
"Get out. Just get out and go back to wherever you came from," Dum Dum was saying to someone at the cell door.
It struck Bucky as a little bit odd that the Brit was standing side-by-side with his corporal. Both of their backs were to Bucky, Frenchie, and Gabe. They were standing off against something.
"Wha?" Bucky started to say. He stopped to fight a cough. He wasn't successful.
Gabe put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
"Please," a new voice was saying. "I've got to. He-he sent me to collect him. He already knows."
"He doesn't need a medic," Dum Dum said.
"There's been a mistake," said Monty. "Everyone in this cell is quite fine. We require no aid. Thanks, though. You'd best be going."
"I can't go back without him," said the other.
"You'll have to."
"I-if it's not-not me then it'll just be someone else. Please. I-I-I have t-to take him."
"As we've said, there's no one that requires your service here. You'd best be off. If you won't leave on your own volition, I'm afraid we're not opposed to taking matters into our own hands."
The sound of a cell door closing. Key in the lock. Foot steps walking away. Bucky was able to see the arm band with a distinct red cross on a while field of the man who was walking away. His choppy breath felt higher in his chest than usual.
"Hey."
Bucky blinked his focus back again. "That's bad," he said.
Dum Dum was frowning hard. Gabe was looking at Bucky like he was already in a coffin. The easiest place to look was at Monty.
Bucky said, "Never thought I'd live to see the day where a Limey'd go to bat for me."
"You almost hadn't."
Another medic came to their cell the next night, and he didn't come alone. Two guards and a small man with glasses in a plain little suit escorted the medic. As one of the guards unlocked the door, Dum Dum and Monty got to their feet again. Frenchie sat up and stayed coiled, ready to jump. Gabe stayed close to Bucky's side.
"I've come to collect the ill," the medic said.
"There are no ill here," said Monty.
The small man took one step forward. "Come now, Major, we are none of us idiots."
"You're right," said Dum Dum, "so it ought to be clear that we don't need any help here. Thanks though. Maybe go check another cage."
Bucky's chest shook from the effort to hold in another coughing fit. Gabe put his hand on him to help keep it all inside.
"Perhaps it is wise to bring you all in together," said the little man, "in case his disease has spread."
"Maybe you should," Dum Dum challenged.
Bucky's companions were nodding at the same time that he said, in as strong a voice as he could muster, "I'll go."
Gabe shushed him. The rest turned to look at him. Expressions: mixed.
"I said I'll go," Bucky repeated.
"Wonderful," said the little man. "Was that so hard?"
"Sarge, no," Dum Dum said. He was shaking his head. "No."
Bucky waved a hand. "It's fine. Help me up."
He meant to let the guys know to hurry the fuck up and come up with a plan to get him out of wherever he was going. Wanted to tell them to start a damn prison riot or something. But Bucky knew he was dying and that this factory would probably be his grave. He didn't want that, didn't want to die. But it was here and it was happening, and he'd use himself all day and night if it kept this creepy fucker with the glasses away from his men. His friends. He would not hesitate a moment to step in front of this bullet for them.
But he didn't get any last words for them, no meaningful exchange for them to plan some huge escape. Because all of his senses went completely white as soon as he was standing up again. He thought he made it a few steps outside of the cage before he absolutely blacked out again.
He came back to himself in a more conventional-looking cell. It was square, first of all. And it had a pallet on the ground in the centre. A pallet which he found himself lying on. He could hear his own breath wheezing in his throat, echoing off the walls.
The door to this cell was open. The guards, the little man, and the medic were loitering just beyond the doorway. The little man was messing around with something inside a leather bag. They were speaking softly. Bucky couldn't pull his senses together enough to pay attention. The little man straightened up and handed a syringe off to the medic and gestured into the cell.
The medic took it and entered the cell. He crouched beside Bucky and looked at him with the most confusing mix of emotions of his face.
"What is that?" Bucky said. He hated the way his voice sounded cracked and parched. Hated the way he felt his heart beat harder.
The medic looked from Bucky to the little man outside the door. He seemed unsure. Or like he needed a line. Or permission.
The little man stepped up to the doorway. He lifted himself to his maximum height and said, "I have not introduced myself. I am Doctor Arnim Zola, and I will be overseeing your care. Have no fear. Your comrade here is only injecting an antibiotic. It will help with the pneumonia."
Not one of those words brought Bucky any comfort. He had the distinct impression that he was being lied to. More than an impression. It was instinctual. A knowing that this man wasn't being truthful.
"I think I'm fine without it actually," Bucky said.
Zola didn't look at all surprised to hear it. He turned to his guards. Said something to them. One turned and ran off immediately. The other walked past Zola and into Bucky's new cell. He drew a sidearm and shot the medic in the head without any pause or hesitancy. He used a regular pistol. Not one of those blue-light guns that vanish people. The guard retreated outside of the cell. Bucky coughed until he was gagging and gasping for breath. His eyes were streaming, and he was just barely clinging to consciousness when another medic came into the room. A guard was behind this medic, gun to the back of his head.
Bucky didn't refuse when he gave the first injection.