Bruises
I sat with my sandwich under the tree by the trail. Instead of bringing a book or notes, I had brought a legal pad and a pen and was busily writing a letter to Granny Nevade. I couldn't tell her anything about the project, beyond that it was progressing well. I told her all about the people I'd met – Peggy, Dr. Erskine, Colonel Phillips. But I didn't mention Bucky. I wanted to keep him all to myself, for some reason. Like if I mentioned him he'd disappear.
Bucky's scent washed over me as the breeze shifted directions. Instead of standing over me, he just sat down casually and asked, "Whatcha writin'?" Today his Kelly green jacket was rolled up to the elbows and only buttoned up halfway. His dog tags were tucked under his shirt.
More alarmingly, he had a black eye, a bruise on his jaw, and a split lip.
I sat up sharply. "What have you done to yourself?" I demanded, eyes roving over his injuries. Bucky reached up, gesturing to his face.
"What, this?" he said with a little chuckle. "This is nothing. You should see the other guy."
"I don't particularly care about the other guy," I informed him tartly, setting my notebook aside and shifting so that I was sitting on my knees. I leaned forward and grabbed Bucky's chin, turning his face so that I could get a better look at the shiner and the bruise on his jaw.
"Is this tender?" I asked, gently prodding the bruise.
"It is with you poking at it," Bucky whined. "Come on, Belle, don't worry about me, I've had worse."
"That doesn't make me feel better," I muttered, before continuing absently. "Normally I'd tell you to wash your face in warm water and witch hazel but I don't know where you'd find that around here. And the tea's wrong…"
"What are you mumbling about?" Bucky asked, pulling his chin out of my grasp. "Witch hazel and tea?"
"Folk remedies," I explained. "A friend of mine from years ago used to hurt herself a lot. Granny Nevade taught me how to fix up bruises for her sake. A warm bath in witch hazel or some damp chamomile tea bags it what I'd usually use, but we don't exactly have that here."
Bucky's eyes widened in surprise. "Huh. That actually works?"
"Every time," I assured him. "Instead, I'll tell you to eat lots of apples or oranges, or get some raw cabbage leaves, mash them up, and put them on the bruises. Onions will do the same, just don't put it on your lip."
Bucky laughed. "Cabbage and oranges, huh? Where were you all the times Steve was getting beaten up?"
I cocked my head, eyebrows drawing together. "Who's Steve?"
"My best friend. He's always getting into fights, always coming home with some new bruise on him because he messed with the wrong guy."
I looked him over pointedly. "And of course, you never do that," I replied knowingly.
Bucky snorted. "I'm not a ninety-pound asthmatic." I winced. "Yeah. Guys see somebody like Steve coming at them, they think they can just deck him and go on about their day. Except Steve doesn't know how to stay down, so he'll keep popping up until someone bails him out."
"Usually you," I guessed.
"Usually me," Bucky confirmed.
"What happened, really?" I asked, still frowning at his bruises. I could guess that Bucky wasn't the kind of guy who exactly had a problem with throwing punches to settle something, but I also figured he wasn't the type to go around swinging his fists at everybody.
"John was shooting his mouth off about you," Bucky explained, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
"John," I said blankly. "About me?"
"Big ugly blonde guy?" Bucky explained, holding up his hand above his head and making a face. "You punched him yesterday?" My mouth fell into an O of understanding. Bucky nodded. "Yeah, that guy. He came in pissed to high hell about you using him as a punching bag and ranting about teaching you a lesson. So I taught him one instead."
I stared at him in disbelief. "You got into a fight… on my account?" I said, shocked.
Bucky looked at me incredulously. "Well yeah. You think I was gonna let a guy like that think it was okay to put his hands on you again? Personally, I think you let him off to easy."
I shifted uncomfortably, crossing my arms over my stomach and leaning back against the tree. I'd never had a guy actually get in a fight on my account. And not just because of me, for me. Bucky started throwing punches and got himself knocked around trying to keep me safe.
"You didn't have to do that," I said softly. "I can handle myself."
"Clearly," Bucky agreed, making me look up at him in surprise. "But from the way Phillips feels about you, I figure he's not pleased with what you did. Better I get a couple bruises than you get kicked out because you had to defend yourself from some idiot again."
I winced. He was dead on – Phillips wasn't happy. But I was still blown away by the idea that Bucky had gotten into a fight for me – and apparently he did it to try and keep me around.
"Why would you do that for me?" I asked him bluntly.
Bucky grinned. "Well, I'd miss you if you left, Belle."
I blinked in confusion. I remembered him calling me that once earlier, but I'd been more interested in what he'd done to his face. It was a shame to see it all bruised – normally it was a very attractive face. Very attractive.
Now I asked, "Why'd you call me Belle? My name's Josie."
Bucky nodded and grinned. "I know that. But that's what they call girls like you, right? Southern Belles?"
I flushed. That was the image I'd been told to live up to all my young life – a beautiful lady with Southern hospitality, grace, and wit. I'd never been able to manage it – I just couldn't be that demure, that quiet and sweet, without wanting to choke myself. And Bucky thought me, sitting here in the dirt in scuffed leather shoes and my hair in a loose bun, I was Southern belle?
Bucky took my silence as him saying something wrong. He leaned forward, eyes earnet. "Is that bad to say? I wasn't trying to insult you, honest-"
"No!" I said hastily. "No, it's just… no one's ever called me anything like that before."
Granny Nevade told me I was 'pretty as a peach.' Dad told me I was 'a looker like your momma.' My stepmother said things like 'you could stand to spend less time in the sun' and 'Jesus Josephine, put on some blush, you look half dead!' Maybe it was because I'd never been around other people much, but I got it in my head that granny and dad just said these things because that's what family said. My step-mother never seemed to agree with them after all.
And then here came Bucky, calling me Belle. I have no idea if he knew what the word meant, but it meant a lot to me to hear it.
Bucky frowned at that. "Well clearly they weren't thinking straight."
I flushed deeper and wondered dimly if it was possible to end up with a permanent blush.
"Josie, Dr. Erskine has a file for… oh. Am I interrupting?"
The scent of flowers and steel tickled my nose. I looked up and saw Peggy standing there with a small, knowing smile on her face.
"No, no, it's fine," I said hastily, standing up and brushing the grass and dirt off the back of my skirt. "Dr. Erskine wants me you said?"
"Yes, but he didn't say it was urgent," Peggy said, looking pointedly at Bucky, who was still sitting on the ground and looking up at me in amusement. I fumbled in my pocket for my mother's watch and flipped it open.
"No, I should go," I said, realizing that again the end of my break had crept up on me without me knowing it, too busy absorbed in talking to Bucky.
"Alright then," Peggy said. I said a hasty goodbye to Bucky and hustled over to Peggy, who turned and walked with me back towards the lab.
"Who was that?" she asked innocently. I floundered.
"Oh, he's just a-"
"Goodbye Belle!"
I whipped around and saw Bucky upright and leaning against the tree, one hand raised in a lazy wave. His smile was big and genuine, not even a little bit of a smirk in it. It was breathtaking.
"Belle?" Peggy repeated. "Did he say-?"
"Oh hush," I mumbled, and took off for the lab. I was smiling, the word 'Belle' dancing around my brain, when I hurried into the lab, my head ducked and trying not to draw attention to myself as I made my way to my desk. I wasn't looking forwards to getting caught for being late, and I was a bit angry at myself that I was. I was usually very punctual, always watching the time. Bucky had distracted me enough that I'd completely forgotten I needed to be back at work.
I gave a small squeak of surprise as a figure stepped in front of me. Tilting my head back slightly, I saw that it was Dr. Campbell
"You're late, Ealum," he barked.
Technically, he had seniority over me because he had a title in front of his name. Actually, nearly everyone in the lab had seniority over me. My ideas had gotten me here and gotten me some respect, but my lack of a PhD meant that I had the least credentials in the building. Worth and Campbell were the very few that ever pulled rank. Everyone else knew Erskine approved of me, so they pretty much left me to my devices, which I appreciated. It was how I did my best work.
"Sorry Dr. Campbell," I said respectfully. "I lost track of the time."
"Clearly," he sneered, crossing his arms. "As much as you probably enjoy being around all of these soldiers, you do have a job to do. Remember that," he finished coldly.
My hands fisted at my side, nails biting into my palms. I focused on the tiny points of pain to distract me form the growing urge to rip Dr. Campbell's throat out with my teeth. He'd been an absolute bastard to me since the moment I showed up. He delighted in catching me doing something that could even be considered slightly unproductive. A week into my tenure here he had called me out for 'fiddling with papers to kill time.' I very coldly explained that I was organizing my notes.
"I will, sir," I replied coolly. "It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't."
I stepped around Campbell and hustled back to my desk. I pulled on my lab coat with a little more vigor that was really deserved and heard a stitch pop. Wincing and embarrassed at the fit of temper, I pulled on the other sleeve a little more gently.
I looked down at my hands. Once again, I'd pierced the skin a little. Darting a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, I surreptitiously licked away the tiny smears of blood from my palm. Satisfied, I turned back to the chalkboard that was currently my arch enemy.
The problem from before still stood. We chemists had managed to strengthen the muscles and bones so that the experiment wouldn't be torn apart or burned through. The problem was, it made them resistant to the serum. The minor triumph had turned into a major hit to morale. We'd thought we'd made progress when it turned out to be nothing. The chemists were tearing out their hair and everyone was a little frustrated.
"Fraulein Josie?"
I looked from the chalkboard to Erskine. "Abraham," I greeted with a smile. "Peggy said you wanted to see me?"He looked just as tired as he had the last time I'd seen him and I remembered what Phillips said about the funding problems they were having. Maybe I needed to add a note to my letter to Nevade…
"I have papers that need to go to the main lab in Brooklyn," he explained, holding up a file. "Would you be willing to take them to Stark? They mostly pertain to the genetics aspects of the project, and Stark knows enough about chemistry to figure out the rest."
I smiled. I was settled into the base, and I liked it fine, but it would be nice to get out and see something new. And besides, the idea of meeting Howard Stark was intriguing. I wondered what he was really like – the playboy of the papers? The genius scientist? Stark was a bit of a mystery.
"I'd be honored," I said with a smile. Erskine passed the file over. It took it and tucked it safely into a drawer of my desk.
"Danke," he said with a nod, and moved off to converse with Worth. The ginger doctor towered over Erskine. Over the top of Erskine's head, Worth shot me a hateful look. I blinked, then realized he wasn't pleased that I was going to be going to meet Stark.
Shaking my head, I turned away from Worth and back to the chalkboard that I was steadily growing to absolutely hate. I scowled at it and at the layer of chalk dust on the floor under it. Come to think of it, my trashcan was overflowing too…
With a groan, I turned my chair around to face the board and sank into it, propping my chin in my hands and staring.
"Jesus Bucky," said Patrick, a red-head from Baltimore. "The base isn't gonna run out of apples."
"Yeah, that's about the fifth one I've seen you eating today," agreed Tommy from the bunk below Bucky.
Bucky sat on the top bunk, his legs hanging off the end, and took another bite out of his apple. It was a god thing he liked them, because Tommy was right, this was about the fifth one he'd eaten that day.
"Something Josie told me about," Bucky explained, taking another bite. Patrick looked at him in confusion.
"Who the hell's Josie?"
"Erskine's lab assistant," Bucky said like it was obvious. "Hair always in a bun, carries a pocket watch?"
Tommy poked his head out from his bunk, looking up at Bucky in disbelief. "You got her to talk to you?" he gaped. "How'd you manage that?"
Bucky smiled slightly. When Josie talked to him, she was full of interesting conversation and shy smiles. He loved those shy smiles of hers, where she dipped her head and bit the side of her lip. On the rare occasions when she spoke to the other recruits though, she was always cold and dispassionate, a complete flip from how she was with him. Most recruits, just like Patrick, didn't even know her name. They just called her the Ice Queen.
"Probably because I talked to her like a person instead of a bed warmer with legs," Bucky said pointedly. "She saw my bruises and was worried – told me that eating apples and oranges would heal them faster."
"Why would she care about a little brat like you?"
Bucky looked down three beds down to where John was resting on the bottom bunk. He used to sleep on top, but Bucky had at least cracked one of his ribs in their fight, and he could no longer make it up the ladder. He was glaring at Bucky in annoyance.
Bucky took the last bite of his apple and chucked the core at John, nailing him in the head. John sat up, hissing in pain as he moved too fast.
"Probably because I don't put hands on her without permission," Bucky said shortly.
