Hello!
A word of warning from us: if you've read our other pieces, you know things get... a Bit fucked up. This will be no exception. I have tagged what will definitely be in the story, but those tags are susceptible to change, please be aware. This is our first CA fic, so bear with us - we're GOING to get things wrong, but uh, as previously stated in the tags, "OUR CANON NOW."
Also know that our updates are infrequent and unpredictable!
Ever wanted to see Bucky get Soldier-fied with a friend? Wait no more! With our two-for-one deal you can have TWO Winter Soldiers for the price of one + Steve Rogers' tears! Watch our heroes be eaten alive by Hydra and life alike! See them cope with terrible trauma and unresolved feelings! Not sure where it's going yet, but I have a damn good idea it's going to be an interesting ride! This is a fic converted from a RP! The formatting is a little weird but the content will make up for it! (There are paragraphs, don't worry.)
Katherine Lewis was not afraid of guns or bombs, but she was afraid of the Nazis that wielded them. And yet, here she was, traveling with the front lines, patching up the wounded and dying with as much zeal as any of the other unflappable young women who had signed up to be nurses. It was grim work. Many of the soldiers themselves didn't see half of the blood in a month she saw daily - those were the lucky ones. The rest, the ones who were used to the carnage? She knew that they would not leave the front lines the same.
Serving in the 107th had been the usual business, until a good fucking chunk of the regiment had been captured by the enemy. (Oh, and the swearing? She'd never used to swear back home - it had been whipped out of her at an early age, and she'd found it a taboo she didn't have the guts to break - but here, among the screams of maimed soldiers and the men well enough to hold them down, she'd lost her reservations, and she'd picked up quite a few words she'd never heard before from her colleagues.) After the initial shock of so many men, suddenly gone, there was an air of uncertainty in the camp, punctuated only by the distaste the illustrious Captain America on his touring show had brought. And then he'd disappeared, and the next morning brought back an entire regiment, almost to a man, and everything changed.
She'd packed her things without too much of a fuss, but it was a shame to be leaving behind nearly all the nurses she'd known, and some of the doctors too, especially for this. The front lines were nerve-wracking enough, but they were going behind enemy lines - it was only herself, a nurse named Debbie, and a doctor named Herman that were following this group. Unnamed as of yet, but led by Captain Fucking America himself, with his right hand man of a best friend, and peopled with a bunch of rowdy commandos, several of who she whispered with Debbie about while no one else was around.
It was only at the end of the first week with the commandos that she'd successfully learned most of their names, including the Captain's real one, and that of his best friend (James Barnes was his name, though he had a truly hilarious middle name she couldn't remember), who many of the girls in the 107th had whispered about - but she'd barely talked to any of the men, mostly talking with Debbie as they drove through the snowy pine forests. They made camp that night - a more permanent camp than the last several, intending on being a base of operations for at least a couple of weeks. Kat received her nightly rations - of somewhat higher quality than she'd come to expect - turned around, and almost walked directly into Sergeant Barnes himself, just barely managing to stop herself from overturning her tin tray and dumping her food onto the dirt ground, not to mention their shoes. "Shit! Sorry!"
He threw his arms up to steady her, a hand finding either shoulder. "Easy, Ms. Lewis. Bad place to lose your dinner."
She startled slightly to find her name coming out of his mouth. She had thought the men hadn't bothered to learn their names, though there were only two of them. "Yeah, no kidding," she said with a chuckle, looking down at her tray. "Don't think Harold would be pleased to give me seconds."
"Let me know if another root tries to capture your ankle's interest, I'll give you some of mine," he offered with a lopsided smile.
She nodded a little, cheeks a bit pink, and thought to herself that the girls back in the 107th had been right - this one was a charming one. "James, right? Barnes? I was in the 107th with you, though we never met there. Was a relief to see your sorry faces come back - a lot of us thought you were gone for good," she said, brows furrowed a little, then she gave a lighter smile. "I got a letter from a friend of mine who's still with them - she says that the month since you fellas got out has done wonders for a lot of the boys. Most everyone made it."
"Call me Bucky," he said, studying her a bit more closely. "I remember you. A lot of the boys said you were a force of nature in the medical tents." He walked over to brush dirt off a log conveniently sitting by the ration tent and motioned for her to sit with a questioning expression.
She was surprised, at both his words and his invitation, but she sat without hesitation, settling the tray on her lap. "Alright, Bucky it is. And you - call me Kat. Unless I'm stitching you up, then you can call me Miss Lewis," she smirked. "I'm surprised that they're not the ungrateful louts I thought they were - maybe they were just jonesing for a little attention with all their moaning and grousing," she chuckled, and started to tear through her C-Ration with vigor. She would technically be on duty again in an hour - not that she had much to do at the moment. None of the men were injured yet in this brand-spanking-new unit, and so all the supplies were already organized and no one needed tending to. As for being a force of nature - well, she knew that alright. Had she been a man, she would have been a surgeon - but as it was, well. Nurse.
He nodded as he started in on his own food, examining a green substance that had likely once claimed to be a vegetable, before shrugging and taking a large bite, swallowing quickly. "So what made you take this particular jaunt with us?"
"With this unit in particular? Orders. I imagine Captain Rogers asked for a couple of nurses - maybe the word best was thrown in there, but I couldn't tell you - and here I am. Me and Debbie, and Dr. Herman, who I'm sure the 107th will miss. Brilliant surgeon," she replied, taking a sip of water from her tin mug. "What about you? I heard you and the Captain are close - is that why you're here?"
He shrugged. "More to keep him out of trouble than anything," he chuckles. "He has vibrant, star-spangled ideals and no sense of self preservation."
She snorted, finishing up which she'd managed to realize halfway through was grits. "And originally? Did you enlist or did Uncle Sam pick you randomly from the group?" The draft. An evil she wish didn't exist, but maybe right now it was necessary. She didn't know.
"Enlisted," he said, eyeing the remaining food on his plate before shrugging and mixing it all together with his spoon, shovelling in another bite.
She picked up her tray, but leaned down to set it at her feet so she could cross her legs, hands laced together in her lap. "Leave behind anybody? Family? A girl? Girls plural?" She asked teasingly, looking at him knowingly. Before he'd been captured, a fair few of the other nurses had chattered about the charm of him, and other things about him.
"No, nothing behind. Nothing that mattered, anyway," he said with a small smile. He glanced momentarily across the camp as Steve and some of the others came back in from patrol. "What about you?"
"Family - parents, two younger brothers still too young to enlist for the next couple years, thank god. Cousins, uncles, aunts, whatnot. A boy or two who had it in their heads I was gonna marry them, I think. Joke's on them," she snorted, following his gaze for a moment and taking in the tall drink of water that was Captain America before turning back to the tall drink of water that was his best friend. "There was a third, but he let me know in uncertain terms that going off to war wasn't a moral woman's business, so I crossed that one off the list."
He laughed. "When has war ever been the business of the moral? But here we are, doing the most moral thing we can, given the circumstances." He picked up her tray and set it on top of his own.
"Thanks," she said, smiling. "Luckily most of the boys warmed up to us nurses pretty quickly once they learned they needed us over here."
"I desperately hope that was more immediate than you make it sound..." he said, laughing softly.
She snorted, shrugging slightly, though she was still good-humored. "Took a few of the real stubborn ones until active combat to respect us. It's okay. A lot of them were just pleased to see some women around again. Evened out."
"I'm sure it did," he snorted, shaking his head and standing up. "It's been wonderful talking to you, but unfortunately I need to report. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Lewis."
"Right back at you, Sergeant Barnes," she smiled, standing as well with a straightening of her uniform, and then held out a hand, still smiling. "I'll take your tray back to the mess if you want. I have a bit before duty calls again."
He laughed, but hands them both over. "Thank you. My poor sense of time has yanked the rug out from beneath my gallantry. Have an excellent evening."
She took the tray with a laugh and a smile, then jerked her head towards the other side of camp. "Go tell the rest of the boys if I hear shit about this I'm going to be rough next time they get injured. Seeya, Barnes!"
He waved and headed off to report for duty.
The moon had almost completely set by the time he got back to his tent that night, but the shape sitting outside of it was still instantly recognizable. "Shouldn't you be getting your beauty rest, punk?"
Steve smirked, looking up at the approaching form of his best friend and occasional lover in the dark. He could see Bucky just fine - ever since the serum everything had been sharper. His senses, his reflexes, his mind. That applied to his eyes, too. Where Bucky and his normal eyes probably saw dim shapes, he saw in detail. Not as well as daytime, not by a long shot, but enough. Just another tick on his lab tests. He took the opportunity to eye his friend to his heart's content, without the gaze of any of his men catching him. "Me, sleep? C'mon, jerk, I know you sleep even less than I do. At least play cards with me for a while before you pretend to go to sleep, huh?"
The truth was, he knew Bucky woke every night with a gasp and a physical jerk, and he could guess as to why. Not that Bucky had said anything himself, but their tents were close, and Steve had good hearing. Another tick. And Steve himself? He needed less sleep these days - Four or five would do just fine and carry him to the next morning refreshed and ready.
Sometimes he missed it. The sleep. The rest.
He shifted in his sitting, pulling the deck of cards out of his pocket and holding them up in the moonlight. "Lamp's in the tent."
"Inviting yourself in, are you?" he scoffed, but he held back the tent flap. "Come on. I've got a flask buried in my stuff somewhere." He ignored the jab about sleep. It wasn't his favorite activity at the moment, and he knew Steve knew it. The contents of the flask were a necessary sedative every once in a while, but it would do for entertaining.
"Yeah, I am - wouldn't have to if you would just do it yourself, but you keep forgetting that," Steve smirked, standing and pushing inside the tent, reaching up to flick on the kerosene lamp he'd hung on tent supports. "And you can keep it for yourself - can't get drunk anymore. Waste of alcohol when we're out here."
He scoffed. "I keep forgetting. I'm so used to you being a lightweight." He pulled the flask out from his pack near the head of his bedroll and took a swig, before nodding to the cards. "What are we playing?"
"Euchre, like my ma taught us. Only two people, but," he shrugged his uniformed shoulders, his patented crooked smile on. "Dugan told me one of the nurses nearly spilled her supper on your shoes earlier - do I have to go make any stern faces at her tomorrow about awareness of her surroundings?"
Bucky sat down at the teeny table pushed against the tent wall. "No," he said, taking the deck and counting the jacks before he shuffled. "We had a good talk, actually. Good dame. Dugan needs to clean his nose."
"Good, I'm bad enough with women as it is," the blond snorted, and sat at the tiny table across from Bucky. "A talk, huh? Last I checked that seemed to be the last thing on your list to do with a dame. You hit your thick skull on something?"
"It's been a while since then," he muttered, starting to dole out cards. "They're in less ready supply nowadays. Nice to just have a conversation. You know. Like you and that Agent Carter."
"Oh, it's like that, is it?" He laughed - quietly - and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest for the moment, if mostly to keep his bulk all in one place on the unfortunately small chair. "I'm a year or two behind you on practice, Buck. And she likes me for me. I thought that was what you were always looking for - wasn't it?"
He picked up his hand. "I'm happy for you, Steve. Really. I'm just saying that the war changed things a little, and that... Place... Changed them a little more, and it was a nice conversation. Now are we going to play cards or keep gossiping like a couple of matrons?"
He smiled and nodded, knowing when Bucky wanted to change the conversation. "Yeah, we're gonna play cards. Call it, jerk."
Two days later, Bucky shoved the deck of cards into his rucksack and closed it, cinching the straps down snugly and strapping in his bed roll. He slung it over his shoulder and exited the tent, which was being left with the main force of commandos. Two groups were heading out on recon. One to a relatively quiet sector, and the other- his and Steve's other- to the... Not so quiet one.
He walked over to where he could see Steve talking to Byrant, who was heading the other team. Dugan would be in command of those left at the camp. To his surprise, he saw Ms. Lewis standing just off to the side, in full kit. He frowned, and walked over to her. "Ms. Lewis... Will you be accompanying Byrant's team?" He asked, more than a touch uncertain.
She looked up from the orders in her hands, folding the paper to put it in her pocket as she saw Barnes approaching. "Hey, Barnes. No, I'm with Captain Rogers. You too, right? Dr. Herman is with Byrant, Debbie's staying with the camp, and I'm with you. Try not to let me get shot, please?"
His eyebrows furrowed. "Ms. Lewis... I fully believe you should be with the commandos on this endeavor. You're needed. But reconnaissance is a very different thing, and it requires a touch more experience and training. It's no place for someone who hasn't had that training."
Kat gave him a bit of a helpless shrug. "I don't wholeheartedly disagree with you, Sergeant, but orders are orders," she said, picking the folded up paper out of her pocket again and holding it out for him to take and examine. "I think Colonel Phillips and the Captain are trying out something different. If it makes you feel any better, I do know general protocol, and I can handle a gun. A few of them, anyway. Grew up popping bottles out back with my pa like any good farm kid. Not that they've issued me one, don't worry," she added jokingly, an awkward smile on her face.
Truthfully, she was nervous. Hearing mortars in the distance was different from creeping through the dark forest, looking for Nazis. But like she had said, orders were orders, and she wasn't going to get discharged for disobeying.
He glanced through the papers, then muttered something unsavory. He handed the orders back and nodded slightly. "Then welcome to the team, I guess."
Steve walked over, adjusting the straps of his shield. "Ready to go?"
He looked around, then back to Steve. "Just us?"
Steve nodded. "They want to keep the teams small. Two tactical and one medical. Let's get moving."
Kat looked down at the ground with raised eyebrows and eyes that said she thought this was crazy business, but kept her mouth shut, fixed her face, and nodded as she looked back up at the two men. The two.. very tall men. She fought to keep her eyes front and center - damn, it had been too long since she'd gotten some alone time. Or time with a guy. She mentally flicked herself on the nose. Focus! "Point the way and I'll start walking, Captain," she said, still thankfully within the appropriate time window of response. She adjusted the heavy medical bag on her back.
Rogers looked down at her directly, and she hoped the warmth in her cheeks was easily explained by the brisk breeze twisting through the trees. "You must be Miss Lewis. Nice to meet you," he said politely, and she smiled a little (and just a bit awkwardly) and nodded. Steve pulled out a folded up map from his uniform and unfurled it for them to look at. "We'll be heading to the west," he continued, looking back and forth between her and Barnes as he spoke - a natural born leader - "Fourteen miles by jeep. Then we'll be getting our boots dirty. Our mission is to get a view from the top of this ridge." He pointed on the map. "Intel suggests it should be easy. Low chance for combat." He exchanged a glance with Bucky that said he didn't fully believe that, and his gaze returned to Kat's eyes. "Miss Lewis, if either me or Bucky gives you an order, I expect you to follow it. It's a matter of your own safety."
She was already nodding. "Of course, Captain. Not my area of expertise." She looked between the two of them. Both of them looked slightly unsettled with the prospect of bringing a woman untrained in combat with them. She could relate to the feeling.
Bucky headed for the jeep Steve had indicated. "Someone dropping us off, or are we keeping the jeep with us?" he asked as he chucked his pack into the back seat. Low risk was a pile of B.S. Two of the last six 'low risk' encounters had ended in a fire fight, and the only reason it hadn't been three was thanks to the sniper rifle currently slung over his shoulder.
"We're being dropped off. Can't risk anyone finding it without us there," Steve said, turning and beginning to walk to the west side of the road. "C'mon."
Bucky jumped up into the jeep. "You walking the whole way, Cap? Gotta keep that star-spangled rear end in shape?"
Steve rolled his eyes. "I thought that was Bryant's." He said, climbing up after Bucky and then turning to help Lewis up. "If it didn't stay in shape by itself, all the fighting would do it," he smirked, and looked over to see Kat blushing.
"God bless America," Bucky said with a sarcastic smirk at the other two, firing up the jeep. "Who's driving-" He was interrupted by Morita shoving him out of the driver's seat and climbing in.
"Let's go," he said with a grin at them all, and floored the jeep.
The men were obviously a thousand times more comfortable than Katherine was, if she was going by their laughter and easy postures, but as they neared the dropoff point they became quieter, stiller. They were getting close. She wiped her palms off on her jumpsuit.
Bucky watched the roads more carefully as they neared the drop point. Any information about local geography or buildings could be crucial if they had to make a mad dash for it later.
Steve grew just as vigilant, and Morita stopped cracking as many jokes and let the only sounds heard be those of the jeep and the surrounding forest. "Alright," Morita said as he slowed the jeep down. "This is you."
Kat nodded, tightening the straps of her pack and swallowing hard.
Bucky grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulders as he hopped down out of the jeep, his boots stirring up dust. Steve jumped out beside him and held out a hand for Kat. "Twenty-four hours, Jim." Morita nodded, glancing back to make sure they had all of their equipment.
"Twenty-four. See you then, lads. Uh... And lady." And he spun the jeep around and headed back up the road.
"Well, this is about as out of depth as I've ever felt," she said simply as the jeep disappeared down the road. She scratched the back of her neck, trying to look casual. Or at the very least, not afraid.
"Everyone feels that way on their first recon," Steve assured her, before glancing at his compass. "Alright. That trail will get us the first few miles. Then it will be rougher terrain. Come on." And he headed off down the path. Bucky motioned for Kat to follow, his rifle in his hands.
She followed dutifully, without complaint, and without saying anything else. She wasn't really sure when it was appropriate to speak aloud while in enemy territory after all, and god forbid she be the reason they were attacked.
They walked uninterrupted for a distance that was going to make her very sore the next day, and then they rounded a corner in the trail and Steve staggered back a step, his shield raising, and then it was soaring off into the trees at the same time as the gunshot reached her ears. It was followed directly after by a sickening thud and a short scream and another sickening thud, and then Steve caught his shield again and reached a hand up to press to his left shoulder. "I'm hit. We need to move - they'll come looking for their sniper soon."
Bucky nodded, already raising his rifle higher and ignoring the aching, leaking sensation just inside his left hip. The pain hadn't hit yet, and that gave them time to move. "Let's go. Ms. Lewis, stay just behind the captain."
She made some sort of strangled noise in response, hot on the captain's heels, adrenaline spiking her heart rate. She very much wasn't certain how much time had passed when they stilled again (she had a watch, but she'd neglected to check the time they'd started walking much faster, whoopsie), but they were now on the ridge as ordered. She turned to Rogers as soon as he set down his equipment bag and pointed at a nearby boulder. "I'm requesting that we take a minute to address your bullet wound, sir."
Steve shook his head. "I'm fine. Almost healed up. Buck, you'll want her to look at you, I think. It isn't great if I can smell the blood."
Bucky glared at him. "You realize how disturbing every section of that sentence was, right?" he retorted. He tried to sit down, but his leg buckled under him halfway through, and he swore, catching himself awkwardly. "It's through-and-through. Nothing major. I can walk on it, clearly."
Kat looked about ready to bite one of their heads off by the time they'd shut up, her eyes locked on Bucky with an intensity that Steve was glad wasn't currently directed at him. "Shock is why you can walk on it, and shock will only carry you so far. Sergeant Barnes, I'm going to insist that I attend to your injury. I'm assuming you don't want sepsis."
"Wasn't on the Christmas list, no," he agreed grudgingly, sitting where he was, given that the boulder she'd indicated was a few paces further away than he particularly wanted.
She was already unbuckling the straps of her bag and setting it on the ground to get out the supplies she needed. "Where were you hit?"
"Here." He pressed at the dark green fabric of his trousers. In the dappled shade of the forest, it was easy to miss the large dark stain that had made its way down past his knee. He found the hole at the waist of his trousers, just below his left-hand ammo pouch, about two and a half inches inside of his hip bone, and still leaking readily. The pain was difficult to place, and to be honest he wasn't positive it was through-and-through, but the pain in his back seemed to suggest it. It wasn't the best place he could have been hit, but not the worst, either. He was still alive and conscious, so that was something.
Kat didn't blink, just nodded, pulling cleaning supplies out of her bag, and desperately, desperately trying to stop herself from blushing. "Alright, shimmy your pants down a bit for me and we'll get you cleaned up, okay?" She said, pulling out gloves from the bag and replacing her cloth gloves with the latex. She kept her back to him for the moment, deciding that watching him begin to take off his pants was not conducive to being professional right now, and frantically reminded herself she'd seen plenty of naked men in her time nursing, and that Barnes wasn't even going to be naked. She would just be... very close to parts unknown.
He sighed and undid his belt, flipping Steve off when he laughed. He loosed buttons and worked his trousers down on that side, wincing as tacky blood peeled away from his skin. The entry wound was clean enough, but the skin surrounding it was already becoming inflamed.
Kat's lips twitched up a little at Rogers' laugh, though she managed to keep her face serious as she turned around. A bullet wound alright, and a lucky one. She approached with her supplies and sat to his side. "Shift that way a little for me, please. I need to see.. alright, it exited, you can stay still again for a bit," she said distractedly, patting his shoulder twice and then getting out the alcohol and gauze. "I think it missed your pelvis, though it had to have been close. If you feel any grating you need to tell me, it means you probably have a bone fragment in there and Dr. Herman will need to take a look."
He nodded, setting his teeth when he saw the alcohol. He'd gotten shot once before, just a graze, but it had burned like hell getting it cleaned. This, he felt, was going to be a hell of a lot worse. On the upside, if you could call it that, he now had his experience with Hydra tipping the scales of his perspective on pain. "Any grating. Got it."
"You know, Buck, this isn't how your mother taught you to dress around women," Steve said from where he was prodding at his shoulder experimentally.
"Screw off, Rogers," he muttered, trying to adjust his trousers slightly higher up his hip.
She couldn't help the smirk that made its way onto her lips at the captain's ribbing, wetting the gauze with alcohol and then beginning to blot at the wound. "And this is why boy number three was convinced going off to nurse in the war wasn't the doing of moral woman. And that's why boy number three isn't in the picture anymore," she told Bucky, trying to keep his mind off what she was doing to his injury. She wouldn't stitch it - not until they got to a place where he didn't have to run on it. Bandaging would do for now.
"He had objections to your treating ra- andom half-dressed men in th- shit, ow - The forest?" he said with a smirk, trying to focus on the conversation and not the burning sensation leaking through him in a way that was more than a little disturbing.
"Sure did. But you're not random; I know your name. Know hell of a lot more about you and seen a lot less of you than my usual patient - wonder how the scales woulda balanced there for him," she wondered aloud, finishing cleaning and taking a good look at the injury, leaning in a little, earlier embarrassment forgotten in the face of blood. "You're bleeding a lot less than I would have thought for this wound. When we get back I want the doctor to take a look, make sure there's no internal bleeding. Not that there should be, but..." She shrugged, sitting back, and fastened the bandage to the wound before looking at Steve. "You sure you don't want me to look at that shoulder? You sure the bullet exited?"
Bucky pulled his trousers up carefully, using his waistband to press the bandages in place and doing his belt carefully.
Steve shakes his head. "It's fine. I can feel the hole in the back of my uniform, but the wound is already closed over."
Her eyebrows raised, and she marched over before he had a chance to argue and stood on her tiptoes at his back, peering into the hole. "Hey, Rogers? That's a little freaky, you know that, right?" She said blankly, shocked to find that where she had been expecting a bloody hole was a red patch of skin.
"Trust me, Ms. Lewis, it was a surprise to me, too, the first time it happened," he assured her, walking over to give Bucky a hand up.
She just stood there for a second, gloved hands on her hips, and then she shook her head and pulled off the latex gloves, turning them inside-out before returning them to her pack and replacing them with the cloth gloves. It was a waste to throw out latex gloves, and at the larger encampments she'd seen entire racks of newly-cleaned latex gloves ready to be reused again.
Steve helped Bucky up with no more than a hand that lingered just a second longer than usual on his shoulder before he turned and looked out over the ridge. "We need to start keeping a real watch on the place. Buck, take the goggles from my pack and start, I'll set up the tent."
Kat looked over, brushing a loose strand of red hair out of her eyes, and raised her brows. "Tent? Singular?"
Steve gave her a rueful smile. "Tent, singular. It's camouflaged, but we still don't want to draw attention to ourselves with too much."
"It's fine, Ms. Lewis," Bucky said as he walked as evenly as he could over to Steve's pack. "You can have it to yourself for the most part. Steve and I will be keeping watch, and I'll be alright napping out here."
Her hands went back to her hips, her face hardening. "That's ridiculous. There's snow on the ground, Barnes, and you're injured. You will not be sleeping outside while there is access to a tent. Just do me a favor and promise not to tell Dugan. He'll get inspired to go get himself shot, the awful flirt that he is," she snorted, and crouched by her pack to finish putting everything back where it belonged.
"One little hole isn't going to kill me," he muttered, adjusting his rifle and limping toward the ridge.
Steve rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him. He's always hated getting rescued."
Kat snorted a little, picking her pack up off the ground just to have something to do with herself, and then sitting on the boulder she'd pointed out earlier. "No one except the most immature of people like it. You soldiers, though, you really, really dislike it," she sighed, shaking her head. She looked over at Steve. Tall, blond, blue eyes. His best friend had two out of three of those, but the type of man Kat went for didn't have a set hair color. Both of them were beautiful in a way that made her want to touch their faces, but she knew that was a pipe dream. National icons didn't go for nurses, they went for models or actresses, and their best friends went for something similar, she imagined.
"Comes with the territory, I think," he said, unrolling the tent canvas. "I don't mind so much. I got used to Bucky saving my bacon. He's still adjusting to the reverse, is all."
"That's the handy part about growing up different than Barnes. You're already used to it by the time you get here," she said easily, watching him work. "Do you want help? I grew up on a farm - idle hands are devil's workshop and all that."
He laughed, tossing her a tent pole. "Sure. Easier with two, anyway."
She caught it (though she was a little afraid that she wouldn't) and began the relatively familiar motions of setting up a tent. She'd gone camping in the back yard every now and then with her siblings, or Betty from the next farm over, and she'd gone on a hunting trip or two with her father when her brothers had had more important things to be doing (chasing girls.) It wasn't long at all before it was done, and she stood next to Rogers for a moment, admiring their handiwork, before she spoke. "That's the funkiest looking tent I've ever seen. Time to stuff Barnes in it."
He smirked. "Let him take this watch. Otherwise he'll try to sneak out all night."
She looked like she didn't like that idea very much but knew what was pragmatic. A lot of her job was managing patients' various rebellions. "Alright, then. Anybody think to bring a deck of cards?"
"No. Bucky might've," he said, walking over to the ridge. "Buck, you have that deck?"
Bucky nodded toward his pack. "Side pocket. Getting cozy?"
Steve took the last few steps to the pouch and bent to fish out the cards. "Can't leave a lady bored, Buck, you taught me that," he replied with his crooked smile, then took a moment to look over the ridge with his friend. "She brought it up, and I think it's a good idea to keep her distracted. Nobody's first mission is a bunch of roses."
"And this one started so well," he agreed gruffly, lowering his binoculars to scan the foreground. "I found the compound, but all's quiet at the moment."
"Fine with me. Activity is what worries me," he said, looking down at the forest below.
"I'm not complaining, exactly, but we knew where the place was, more or less. The less active they are, the more we're going in blind." He sighed, and glanced over at Steve. "Well? Don't keep the lady waiting, punk."
"Jerk," he rolled his eyes, and clapped Bucky on the shoulder before turning and walking back to Kat, holding the cards up.
The sun set with abrupt determination, as if eager to escape the cold. And it was cold. Bloodloss hadn't helped that. By the time Kat brought over a bowl of stew, he was suppressing shivers. He took the got bowl gratefully. "Thanks."
"Thank the cook for packing us food and a pot to heat it in," she said in response, sitting down next to him to eat her own. "How do you feel? Tired at all?"
"About as spry as I usually feel after slogging all day," he said, spooning stew into his mouth. "You?"
"Cold, but that's the snow talking," she said with a shrug, beginning to eat. "Not more tired than usual? You should be."
"I'd say 'what are you, my doctor?', but you are," he sighed. "I'm tired. Yes. But when haven't I been, lately? Same as you and everyone else."
"It's just a question to check and see how taxed you are by your injury. You should be asleep by now." She huddled further into her coat. "But you're up, which is odd."
He shrugged. "Got a high pain tolerance," he muttered, giving up on the spoon and lifting the bowl to his lips to drink.
"Not really about the pain - just your body healing," she shrugged right back. She was silent for a moment, and wondered about that pain tolerance. He'd been captured and tortured by Hydra - it was common knowledge in the nurses' tent, though nobody talked about it much - and had come back different than when he had left. She'd seen a lot of men like that, and she knew they didn't like to talk about those things. But they did like company. "I thrashed your friend at Euchre, by the way. Unless he let me win, in which case I'll thrash him again. Odds on him throwing?"
"Low. He has a horrible poker face," he said with a smirk, wiping gravy off of his mouth. "He's pretty good at Euchre though, so what do I know. How's your game?"
"Good. Family game for me, too," she nodded, smiling. "I'm the family card shark."
He laughed. "Good. Wipe the floor with him."
He sighed, setting the bowl aside and turning back to the lit compound in the distance.
"You got it, Sergeant," she smirked, finishing up her own stew and setting the bowl besides her. "You should call it soon. It's late."
"Whenever I call it, Steve comes on," he said, settling back into his melted patch of ground. "And he won't let me come back on. So I'll stay my shift."
She sighed silently through her nose. "Am I going to have to pull rank on you, Barnes, or are you going to make my life easy tonight?"
He glared up at her out of a muddy, dour face, but then sighed. "Fine," he muttered, pushing himself up and then slowly to his feet, favoring his leg.
She nodded approvingly, standing and picking up her bowl. "There's a good soldier. Dr. Herman is already going to be appalled you got shot, I at least want to make sure he doesn't blame me," she chuckled, looking over at him to gauge his mood. She didn't want him to resent her for doing her job - sometimes they did.
He nodded noncommittally and headed doggedly for the tent. He was tired. Aggressively so. He didn't have the energy to argue with her and Steve, and he knew that had he refused she would have recruited the captain.
She took in his expression and fell tactfully silent, peeling off as they reached the tent and heading to the fire, where Steve was still putting away food into his hollow leg. "I browbeat Barnes into resting. You're up, Cap."
He laughed and finished the last of the food his plate. "You out-stubborned Bucky Barnes. Impressive."
"Oh, believe me, you haven't seen stubborn 'til you've met the Lewis family," she smiled, shrugging as if it was common knowledge.
He nodded, standing and stretching. "Well, thank you. He stopped listening to me a long time ago." He nodded to the ridge. "Get me if you need anything."
"Sure. Thanks," she nodded, and looked to the tent. "Should I give him space?"
He shrugged. "Up to you. He doesn't bite. But you need to get warm as much as he does, and your body heat in there will help him."
She rubbed her eyes and nodded. "You're right. Okay, I'll see you... Later, then," she said, and gave him a slight smile before heading back towards the tent. She pushed into it a minute later. "I do promise I'm not following you on purpose this time."
Bucky was removing soaking layers of clothes, hanging them from the tent over the small gas heater. He looked up at her, lips slightly blue, face pale, but otherwise steady. "You're fine. Come in."
She felt her mouth get dry at the realization that he was in the middle of peeling off a couple layers, but was relieved she didn't blush. She wondered if Colonel Phillips had handpicked her for this job or just asked her commanding officer to pick for him, but either way felt like a mix between a blessing and a curse. She sidled a little further into the tent and sat on the cot furthest from him. "Stew help you warm up at all?"
He nodded, going to undo his trousers and then eyeing her, thinking better of it and just sitting instead. "A bit. Thank you."
She nodded, then pointed at his injury. "I'll need to see that again in the morning, just so you know." She looked away from him (and his shirtless chest) with a little effort, reminding herself firmly she was a nurse and not a harlot.
He nodded slightly, laying down on his cot and getting under the blankets, shucking his wet trousers carefully once he was under them and reaching up to hang them next to the rest of his clothes. "Understood. If that will be all, general?" he ribbed gently.
She chuckled, pulling off her boots and settling down as well. "That will be all, Sergeant, thank you." She rolled over, smiling to herself a little, and did her best to go to sleep.
He closed his eyes, huddling under the blankets, trying to get warm and ignore the pain in his hip. He pulled the blankets over his head, letting his breath help warm the space, and shut his eyes.
"Er ist wieder bewusstlos."
[He is unconscious again.]
"Er ist nicht so stark wie ich gehofft hatte."
[He is not as strong as I had hoped.]
"Gib mir die spritze. Er sollte jetzt in der lage sein, mit einer anderen dosis umzugehen. Entweder wird es ihn töten oder es wird nicht."
[Give me the syringe. He should be able to handle another dose. Either it will kill him or it will not.]
"Oi! Leave him be, you nazi fucks. Didn't your mothers ever tell yo- yeah, fine, come at me, then. Cowards. You idiots probably don't even know what I'm sayi- h- GH- FUCK-"
Pain, and cold, and stone, and needles.
Kat didn't fall asleep before Bucky started tossing and turning, and she ignored it for a long time before he made a noise that she realized meant he was having a nightmare. She lay in the dark for a few minutes, debating what to do, if anything, and then he moved again and she pushed off the blankets. "Bucky?"
He stared up at the ceiling, desperate to look to the side, to see what they were doing, what was coming, but the straps held him down, snarled around his head and arms and legs, and there was the deep ache of a needle in his hip...
Bucky?
His eyes snapped open, and he strangled the noise his mouth was trying to make with a swift hand between his teeth, his breaths coming in short, heaving gasps.
She sat on the edge of her cot and looked at him in the darkness, worry in her gut. But it wasn't something she hadn't seen before. "You're in a tent in some backwater forest in Germany. Captain Rogers is outside, somewhere. You're safe." Relatively, but she needed to calm him.
"I know where I am," he said a bit sharply. He hadn't, but she had no reason to assume it. He sat up, ignoring the cold, and reached for his damp-but-warm clothes. He wasn't going to sleep. May as well spell out Steve.
She frowned a little but said nothing for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Every case was different, and Bucky was no exception. She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, then said, "You know that talking about it won't get you discharged, right? If you're careful?"
"You don't make that call," he muttered, pulling on his shirt and starting to button it.
"No, I don't. I'm just informing you," she said quietly. "Not my business otherwise, I know."
He tucked his shirt in carelessly, then swore when he accidentally jarred his forgotten injury. Reaching for his coat, he tugged it on. "Get some sleep, Ms. Lewis."
She sighed through her nose and shifted to lay back down. It wasn't her business to force him to talk. Telling anybody was risky, and she was a stranger.
He stalked out into the snow, zipping the tent behind him. He was almost immediately shivering, but he headed off to find Steve anyway. He sat beside the (now) bigger man, curling up on himself slightly.
Steve didn't look away from his surveillance for a few minutes, then he glanced at Bucky. "I think she was probably just trying to help," he said casually, picking up his binoculars.
"I'd be angry but I know you can't help it," he muttered. He rubbed at his eyes. "I don't need help."
"Do you not need it, or do you not want it?" Steve rebutted, and set the binoculars down again in his lap and turned to frown at the brunette. "I hear you at night, Buck. Can't help it."
"Again, I wish I could be angry about that. What happened to you being a pipsqueak I used to scrape off of alley walls back into his trousers?" He set his head on his knees, his hip and head throbbing in time.
"Not sure, Buck, not sure," he sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at Bucky's huddled form. If they were still kids, he could have hugged him without any thought, right here in this moment, but they weren't kids anymore. People looked longer at touches between men. It was just habit by now to sit with a few inches between them, to drop hands from shoulders before it became suspicious, to sleep in separate tents every night and pursue women separately. He wanted to grab Bucky by the collar and crush him to his chest - had wanted to every day since finding him strapped to that table - and he wanted to demand, beg that his friend tell him how to help. But he couldn't. The solid wall of masculinity separated them.
They were silent for a long moment, and Bucky knew, without any of it being said. It didn't need to be. Eventually, he lifted his head up. "You should go get some sleep."
Steve gave him an unimpressed look. "Nice try. I can miss two days of sleep before it slows me down, remember? Go try to sleep again. Pray you didn't tick off our only medical officer out here."
He bit back his protest. That he didn't want to. That he hated volunteering to be back on that table over, and over, and over again every time he closed his damn eyes. That he'd give his own right arm to be able to get one good night's sleep. But he knew didn't have a right to complain. Others had it worse. He stood without responding, following orders doggedly, and headed for the tent.
Kat was lying down again when he came back. It was unclear if she was asleep. If she was awake, she gave no indication of it.
He undressed again, still stiffly, and lay down on his cot, pulling his blankets up over himself tightly, resigning himself to trying to sleep.
Kat wasn't quite sure when she had fallen asleep, but she woke up with a start the next morning when Steve leaned into the tent and said, "Breakfast."
Bucky was already awake, staring at the tent roof, and sat up without comment, starting to get dressed.
She shuffled out of the cot, pulled on her boots, and blearily dragged herself out into the morning sun. Steve was sitting a few feet away from the tent on a log, eating his morning ration. "Hi," she rasped.
"Good morning," he said cheerfully, passing her a paper-wrapped ration packet. "Bacon sandwiches. At least, I think it's bacon."
She chuckled. "Been on these things two years; I tell myself it's bacon. Keeps me sane," she said, taking the sandwich with a nod. "When can we get off this ridge and away from less scary bases?"
"After breakfast," he said, tossing another package to Bucky as he limped carefully over. "We have six hours to get back to the rendezvous."
Kat nodded, and tore into her sandwich without another word, still in the process of waking up and in no particular mood to be chatty. Steve, however, seemed to be a morning person.
"How's your leg feeling?" Steve asked of Bucky.
"Had worse," he said through a mouthful of bacon. "Cold's keeping it mostly numb for now. Can't say I'm looking forward to the walk back, but I'll be alright."
Kat swallowed her last mouthful of sandwich (how she had managed to eat the whole thing in such a short amount of time was a mystery) and looked to Bucky. "Let me look at it again before we start walking. I want to make sure it didn't get too much worse overnight."
He took another half-interested bite and nodded, tucking the sandwich into a pocket and standing, heading for the tent. He wasn't interested in baring his ass in the snow.
She took his silence with a shrug at Steve, who smirked, and stood to follow after him, boots crunching in the light cover of snow on the hard ground. Normally, she might have put on her bedside manners and charm, but right now was not a normal circumstance. She was on a reconnaissance mission with a super soldier and his best friend ( both of whom were attractive to the point of distraction), and it was the ass-crack of dawn. Her mother would have slapped her on the arm for saying anything close to the term 'ass-crack,' but she'd really come to like swearing in the limited time that it had been available to her. When she got out of this war, and went back to her humdrum farm life where she'd known every boy in town since she was old enough to go to school, she would keep the swearing. Her parents would scold her, but all it would take to hush them again would be a reminder of the lives she had saved, and the lives she had seen lost, and they would fall silent again. No boy would marry her, not with the swearing, but that was alright. None of the ones who had stayed behind would understand her troubled nights, and none of the ones who had gone would be there to marry her.
God, was she morbid in the mornings. She shook her head as she pushed into the tent, her red hair a little wilder from sleep than she normally would have liked it. "Alright, let's get it over with, shall we?"
He was already sitting down and undoing his belt, leaning back so that he could ease his pants over his hip carefully and expose the bandaging.
Kat bent over him and gently peeled the bandages back.
And blinked. "There was a hole there yesterday."
"Remember when you find my bones,
Remember that I told you so,
I told you so,
And when my ashes fall like snow,
Remember that I told you so,"
-Dirt Poor Robins
Scarecrows
A/N
Posted the link to the playlist for TST on my profile! Scarecrows by Dirt Poor Robins is the first song. More to come!