16th October 1943
Some train station near the Italian/France border.
It was 0405 when Bucky first laid eyes on the pitiful looking girl as she stumbled through the train station during the unholy hours of the morning. How in God's name a scrawny, beaten up girl who quite honestly reminded him of the little deer, Bambi, was supposed to fight against men twice her size was beyond him. He had heard the stories; and had pictured her to have more of a manly look to her.
"Pardon," She spoke, breaking the eerily silence that loomed around the station. She shuffled closer to the uniformed man, keeping her distance. It was dark, and there was no way she could've differentiated the American from the Nazi, "Are you Sergeant James Barnes?" Her high-pitch, heavily accented voice matched the petite frame; also the complete opposite of what Bucky had pictures. It wavered as she spoke; her nerves- and the fact that she'd been crying- getting the best of her.
With a smile and a nod, he stuck out a hand, "You must be Noelle. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Colonel Phillips has been telling us all about your work with the French Resistance over the past year; pretty impressive stuff if you ask me. The car's right over there if you want to get going- I don't see how standing around this station'll serve us much good."
Noelle, though trying to keep her face down and out of eyesight of Bucky, glanced up for a fraction of a second as she shook his hand. She made note of his appearance; his dark hair could almost been mistakes for jet black, but she could see as the light struck each strand the hints of brown shine through. She made sure to avert her eyes back to Bucky's shoes quickly as to not catch his eyes with her own.
Following close behind him, she continued to keep her head down, eyes glued to the cement floors of the station. As soon as the pair made it to the car, she slid quickly into the passenger seat. The driver's door click open; it wasn't long until Bucky noticed the crimson blood dripping onto the contrasting blue fabric of her dress.
"Oh, god, are you hurt?" He tried to ask in the most non-awkward way possible, but failed miserably. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried his best to see what hide behind the matted golden locks that framed her face.
Noelle panicked. She shook her head, placing the palm of her hand atop the bloodied gash and held back a wince, "No, no— it's just a nasty scratch. No big deal, I promise."
"Here, let me take a look—"
"No, that'll be okay. I'm fine. I promise."
Bucky hesitated, though knowing not to argue with a woman, eventually gave in. The car's engine started with a loud roar and soon enough, the pair were on their way in dead silence. Noelle didn't seem to be much of a talker, or maybe she was just uncomfortable given the current situation, but the silence made Bucky squirm.
"So, uh, Noelle, where are you from?" He asked, glancing over to the passengers seat.
A few seconds of utter silence passed. Noelle adjusted the seatbelt, as if she purposefully intended to dodge his attempts to force conversation upon the two.
Eventually, she cleared her throat, "France."
Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, "Well, if that's not a broad answer then I don't know what is," He paused, the laugh still lingering throughout his words, "What part of France?"
"Saint-Nazaire." Noelle fiddled with a loose string from the hem of her dress as she spoke, her voice still undoubtedly quiet and borderline monotonous, "Where are you from, James?"
"Just call me Bucky- I'm from New York. Brooklyn."
Noelle gave a small nod before returning her attention to loose string hailing from the bottom of her dress. She sighed, her head hitting the back of the headrest with a light thump. They drove down the road for a few miles before either of them stirred up conversation.
"Why did you join the armed forces, Sargent Barnes?"
Bucky was startled at the sudden question spouting from Noelle. It involved much more thought than just the simple, 'where are you from?'
He started to talk, until he'd stop himself; giving himself even more time to think.
"Ah, well, they were calling for all able-bodied men, and I fit the description. I wasn't going to sit back and not enlist. I figure it's the best I could do for my country; and, if it saves a married, family man from having to ship out, then so be it." He explained, "Why'd you start working with the French Resistance?"
"To put it simply—" Noelle took in a sharp, stabbing breath; a promise to herself not to bring herself tears, "The Nazi's took everything I had. I intend to take as much from them as I can."
The silence returned for a few seconds. The promise Noelle had made to herself shattered into a million pieces at the familiar feeling of warm tears running down her face, hoping and praying that the man she'd met mere minutes beforehand wouldn't notice.
But, he did. Just like he'd noticed the gaping wounds that caressed the side of her face.
He already knew better than to point them out.
"So, how'd you end up here, Bambi? How'd you manage to escape?"
Noelle quickly pulled herself together, wiping the tears off her face and shrugging her shoulders, "A lot of running away. A lot of putting my trust into the hands strangers; it's what I'm continuing to do now, is it not?"
16th October 1943
Five miles from the Italian front.
"I speak on the behalf of the entirety of the 107th; we are very honored and pleased to have you working with us, Miss—"
"Rousseau."
"Ah, yes, that's right. Rousseau. Well then, Miss Rousseau, I can get Sergeant Barnes to show you the ropes— perhaps introduce her to a few of the men, as well. Oh, and uh, get that nasty cut checked out by a medic while you're at it. For the barracks situation, you'll be sharing quarters with Agent Carter. Again, I'm honored to have to fighting for us." Colonel Phillips hesitantly shook the hand of the child-like French girl. He'd asked for a soldier; not a milkmaid. Choosing to ignore the 'soldier' the French had sent him, he promptly went back to the mountain of paperwork that sat on the makeshift desk.
"Guess your stuck with me for a few more minutes then, Bambi." Bucky nudged Noelle's side as the two walked out of the colonel's tent and towards the groups of men.
She crossed her arms in a huff of frustration, "That's not my name."
"Are you sure? You look like a Bambi to—"
Noelle stopped walking, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder to stop him as well, "Sergeant Barnes, I hate to put a damper on all the fun you're having picking on me with your little nicknames. I don't know about you, but I'm here to not only fight a war, but to win a war; is that understood?" Noelle paused, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she caught her breath, "Now, as much as I am appreciative for you picking me up at the train station and providing decent conversation for the ride, I would really even more so appreciate it if you just showed me to my bed and left me alone for the remainder of my time here, please and thank you."
Bucky was taken aback by how much the girl had let out. After all, it was the most he'd gotten her to open up. Even if it wasn't necessarily the nicest. "Follow me, then. It's just a little ways through these tents. I'll have one of the medics stop by and stitch you up."
The pair walked cross the grounds in silence; Noelle could feel the eyes of hundreds of men burning into her skin and she could hear the whispering rise up among them. She couldn't fathom the questions they had.
Bucky stopped walking at one of the drab looking tents and swung open the flap with his arm, "This is your stop, then. I'm sure you and Agent Carter will get along just fine. I'll have that medic stop by soon."
Noelle nodded, "Thank you, again, James-"
"I prefer Bucky, actually."
"Right." Noelle let out an airy laugh, that could almost be classified as a more of a scoff, "I'll see you, then, Bucky." She said, ducking into the tent and leaving Bucky outside.
"See ya round, Bambi!" He yelled after her, a smirk overtaking his lips as he walked away from the tent.