Whelp, this is the longest chapter I have ever written, so enjoy! :D
Chapter Thirty: Over the Moselle River
"Well, aren't you special?" Garcia strode over to Suzie and sneered. "Bet Cap loved having a pansy on his team."
Close behind Garcia as his ever-present, hill-billy shadow, Lemay chuckled, and the two exchanged smirks.
"What'd you do for him, clean his uniform or his shield?" Garcia added. "Maybe you two can do your makeup and paint your nails all girly-like."
"Back off!" Suzie snapped. The day after the Hydra mission had been going well until Garcia and Lemay showed up. She wanted to sit and rest under the shade of a tall oak tree in peace. If Bucky had let her finish reading The Hobbit, her day would have been even better. Of course, Bucky still stubbornly kept his book hidden from his sister, and Garcia and Lemay's appearance always ruined everything.
"What? You ain't denying that Captain America's a chorus girl."
Eye twitching and rage bubbling over, Suzie lept to her feet and lunged at Garcia. Her fist struck his thick jaw hard enough to make him stumble.
Nobody made fun of Steve except her and Bucky. Nobody.
"The circus called, they're missing a couple clowns!" Suzie growled. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.
Lemay stepped in while Garcia rubbed at his cheek and swung at Suzie, but his hit never landed.
"What did I say?" Bucky shouted, appearing out of nowhere. His fingers curled over Lemay's meaty fist, and he shoved the large blonde away while stepping in front of Suzie. "I thought I reported your sorry asses earlier. Didn't your CO do anything about it?"
"This ain't about you," Garcia grumbled. His brown eyes flashed like a lion waiting to pounce on its prey. Turning to Lemay, Garcia said, "Whaddya say? Think we can beat this stuck-up sergeant?"
Lemay nodded, a toothy grin spread across his face as he cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. He stood a whole head taller and several dozen pounds heavier than Bucky. "We're gonna shut you up real quick, pretty boy."
Not wasting any time, Lemay aimed a powerful right hook at Bucky's head. In one fluid motion, Bucky ducked and slammed his fist into Lemay's temple, knocking the large man right onto the ground.
A proud smirk tugged at Suzie's lips when Bucky's single punch almost knocked Lemay out. Even Bucky seemed startled at how suddenly Lemay dropped. Garcia didn't say a word as he caught Lemay under the arms and hauled his friend to his feet. They didn't spare a second glance as they turned tail and ran from the siblings.
"Yeah, you'd better run, damn bastards," Bucky muttered under his breath. He turned to check Suzie for any injuries. "They always treat you like this?"
"I had it handled," Suzie insisted. Despite her best efforts to feign a stoic expression, she couldn't ignore the pride swelling in her chest at her brother's ability to scare away Garcia and Lemay. The time for questioning Bucky's unnatural amount of strength would come later. She had other matters to attend to—such as taking a nap in peace or getting her hands on The Hobbit.
Bucky rolled his eyes. "Sure you did." He ran a hand through his rarely out-of-place hair and handed Suzie a file. "Steve wants you to double-check the mission write-up and have you sign at the bottom. The army has a lot of paperwork. Gotta make sure we ain't committing any war crimes."
"Mmm, what's the fun in obeying all the rules?" Suzie hummed. She took the file from her brother and sat down to skim it over.
Bucky, who jumped at every opportunity to annoy his sister, remained standing and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. A full minute passed before Suzie couldn't take it any longer and glared up at her brother.
"What do you want?" Suzie snapped. His presence caused her to reread the same paragraph three times before she could comprehend the words.
"Just waitin', nothing more," Bucky said and clasped his hands behind his back like an impatient, energetic child pleading for his mother to hurry up and pay attention to him.
"Wait somewhere else," Suzie muttered and returned to her reading.
The sounds of the bustling camp filled the silence: the distant shouting of a commanding officer, the low growl of a truck's engine, the groans of pain from the nearby infirmary. It had become a common ambiance soundtrack of her life. The army never lacked noise, some more annoying than others.
"Are you alright?" Bucky asked. The question he had been holding to himself finally burst out like water from an opened dam.
"You've already asked me at least a dozen times since..." she waved an exaggerated hand in the air, "forever. I'm fine."
Bucky huffed out an unconvinced sigh. At least he stopped rocking but he cast a shadow over the paper, making it unnecessarily difficult for Suzie to make out the words on the file.
Ever since they returned from the mission, Bucky had hovered over her between the gaps in his busy schedule. Whenever he happened to see her, he always asked if she needed anything. She had—rather stupidly—believed he would leave her alone after the mission and let her rejoin the 358th without him trailing her around like a celebrity's bodyguard or an overzealous shadow.
A shout of "Barnes!" saved Suzie from Bucky's mother-henning. Both turned in unison to see Richard's ginger hair and lanky form appear in view. "There you are! Guess what!"
A coy grin grew on her face. "Oh, I don't know," she teased, knowing full well why Richard had left the infirmary unsupervised by Alice or another nurse.
"I got cleared! I've got one more check-up at the end of the week and then I'm good to go." Richard's shiny teeth flashed, and he stood looking all excited and proud of himself.
"It's about time! I bet you drove Alice crazy from hearing you talk all the time." Suzie clambered to her feet and pulled Richard into a hug. Gosh, she didn't realize how much she missed fighting beside her friend. Life had been too quiet in his absence.
"You gonna introduce us?" Bucky's voice cut through the embrace, and the two pulled apart as if noticing Bucky for the first time. A judging eyebrow raised on Bucky's face, and he shot Suzie a glance not too dissimilar to when he assumed Suzie had a crush on a boy in her middle school class.
Disregarding the accusatory stare, Suzie gestured at her brother and then her friend. "Richard, this Bucky, my brother. Bucky, this is Richard, my partner."
"Partner?" Bucky questioned as if the word offended him. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest while glancing between the two.
"Uh, Richard already knows about my whole…situation," Suzie offered. The expression on Bucky's face started to make her uncomfortable.
"Partner, huh?" He leaned closer to Richard, switching to protective older brother mode again. "You single, Richard? Or are you datin' my sister?"
Some color drained from Richard's face, and he leaned away from Bucky. "Uh…I've got a girlfriend…s-sir. Suzie and I are just friends. We usually pair up on missions, sooo…"
"Uh-huh, sure."
"We're not dating, Bucky!" Suzie smacked him on the upper arm. "And even if we were, why's it matter to you?"
Leaving Richard alone, Bucky turned to point a finger at Suzie. "Someone's gotta look out for you, you little troublemaker." He nodded toward the file in Suzie's hand. "You done?"
Suzie handed him the file. "Tell Steve everything looks good."
Bucky took the file and moved to leave. He stopped in front of Richard again and gave him a threatening glare. "You'd better not be messing around with my sister. If you hurt her, I'll know, and it ain't gonna be pretty for you."
Ending the conversation right then and there, Bucky strode away, leaving Richard silent and frozen in place. Once Bucky disappeared from view, Richard opened and closed his mouth several times before finally choking out, "Sooo, your brother seems…nice."
Waving a dismissive hand, Suzie replied, "Oh, don't let him scare you. He's just worried about me."
Pointing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction where Bucky had left, Richard asked, "Is he the brother you were looking for?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I'm glad you found him even if he's—"
"Uptight and overbearing?" Suzie interrupted as she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I think he's gotten worse."
"Well, can you blame him?" Richard shrugged. "He's an older brother; he's always gonna obsess about your safety. It's in his nature."
Suzie scoffed and kicked a loose rock. It skittered over the dirt and rolled to a stop against the trunk of the oak tree. "He could at least leave me alone more often. It's annoying having him always watching me." She paused to look up at Richard. "Wanna know what he did this morning? I was cleaning my rifle when he showed up and took it from me to clean it himself, saying 'It might go off, and he should do it just in case something happens,'" Suzie threw up her hands. "How the hell is a gun gonna go off when it's completely apart?!"
"Dunno," Richard admitted. He clapped a hand on Suzie's shoulder and flashed her a sincere smile. "Give it time. He'll get better."
Famous last words.
Giving it time only gave Bucky more opportunities to pester Suzie. The normal well-wishings of him throwing his jacket over her on a particularly chilly day soured her mood, although his jacket held more warmth than hers. Due to Steve's tendency to always catch a cold in the colder months of the year, Bucky's concern about anyone not wearing a jacket in the middle of autumn rang true to his old habit of worrying about Steve.
However, it only progressed from there. As the weeks dragged on and September rolled into October, Bucky somehow procured fancy items of winter clothing much fancier than standard army issues. He fought Suzie at every turn to get her to wear the warmer articles of clothing. Sometimes she let him pull the hat over her head just so he would leave her alone for the rest of the day.
Of course, she would always take it off when he turned his back. Somehow, Bucky would appear out of the blue and chastise her for not wearing appropriate autumn attire. Then the hat would go on her head again, and the cycle would repeat. In a futile attempt to convince him to stop worrying, Suzie pointed out the lack of a thick wool hat or gloves on the other soldiers. Naturally, he outclassed her sass and said if anyone got sick, they had no one to blame but themselves for not being aware of the changing weather. Suzie would be ahead of the curve, so wear the damn hat.
If Bucky declared something to be too heavy for Suzie to lift, he would swoop in like a watchful eagle and take it straight out of her arms. He went on long tirades about always staying well-rested. During any battle, no matter how brief, he refused to let her leave his side, and on more than one occasion pinned her to the ground and used his body as a makeshift human shield during particular bursts of heavy blitzes.
The bullet wound in his calf from the Hydra mission healed at an astonishing enough rate to surprise even Alice. Bucky, in all his stubbornness, ignored concerns about his well-being and instead focused all his energy on driving Suzie insane from his constant pestering.
Once, after the 90th Infantry drew closer to the French-German border and found a secluded area to camp for the week, Suzie and Richard sat down on upturned buckets and used a wooden crate as a table in the designated mess hall area. Steve ran off doing whatever Captain America did when he didn't perform staggering feats of superhuman capabilities. Instead of joining his assigned teammates, Bucky strode over and plopped himself down across from his sister.
Richard, who graciously endured Suzie's endless complaints about her brother, offered her a compassionate yet knowing smile when Bucky beckoned him to scoot over.
After procuring a bucket to use as a seat, he set his tray down. The metal clinked softly against the hard wood. Bucky motioned at Suzie's tray. "Gimme your plate."
With her fork speared on a stack of limp, boiled carrots raised halfway to her lips, Suzie paused. "Why?"
"Don't ask stupid questions." He motioned at her tray until Suzie assented and slid the metal plate across the rough, wooden surface.
To her surprise and utter confusion at the absurd lengths Bucky's brotherly concern went, Bucky picked up his knife and fork and started slicing up the thin chunk of beef on Suzie's tray.
"What are you doing?" Suzie asked. The strange behavior made her mouth drop open, and she glanced over to where Richard had stopped eating to watch the scene unfold.
"Cutting your food. Small bites." Bucky answered matter-of-factly.
"I can do it myself," Suzie protested, and reached over the crate to grab at her tray.
Aware of her intentions to reclaim her food, Bucky pivoted so his left shoulder faced her and set the tray in his lap. If Suzie wanted to grab it now, she would have to stand up and walk around the crate to take it.
"You could choke!"
"I'm not gonna choke."
"You never know."
Richard let out a little chuckle but returned to stuffing mashed potatoes into his face when Suzie shot him an unamused glare.
"I'm not a toddler, Bucky. I can cut my own food."
"This stuff is as hard as a rock." He pointed at the food in his lap although Suzie couldn't see it from where she sat. "If you don't wanna lose a tooth or choke to death, I suggest you let me do what I need to do."
Sputtering, Suzie turned to Richard, who remained immersed in his meal as if the limp carrots, soggy mashed potatoes, and the brick of beef were a meal painstakingly produced by a world-renowned chef. "Help me out here," Suzie pleaded.
"I'm an unreliable witness and should not speak in the presence of the court," Richard muttered and shoved a lump of beef into his mouth to prove his point.
Suzie gestured at Bucky's hunched form while he sawed away at the unidentifiable chunk of meat on Suzie's tray. "You're a lawyer, Richard; tell him to stop."
Richard shook his head and kept his eyes focused on his food. "I have the right to plead the fifth and remain silent on matters I do not wish to involve myself in."
Out of options, Suzie scoffed, folded her arms across her chest, and whispered, "Traitor."
Richard grimaced at her remark but said nothing as Bucky finally finished carving Suzie's food into bite-sized pieces. Finally satisfied, Bucky handed the tray back to Suzie and went about eating his own food as if nothing had happened.
"You're unbelievable, you know," Suzie said to both men sitting across from her. She pointed an accusing fork at Bucky's chest. "You're getting on my nerves, James Buchanan."
"At least you're not gonna choke," Bucky retorted.
Too hungry to argue anymore, Suzie relented, and the trio fell into silence as they ate their unappetizing meal.
The strange behavior did not stop there. In fact, as each battle passed and the 90th drew closer to finally crossing the Moselle River, Bucky latched onto Suzie like her shadow. Everything from the way she laced her boots to the items attached to her belt fell under Bucky's scrutiny.
Stay hydrated. We've got a long march.
If you wore thicker socks, you wouldn't get blisters.
Winter's coming soon. Where's your coat?
No, you're not going to take out the machine gun. I don't care if they can't see us from here, it's too dangerous.
Wash your hands before you eat.
It all kept pouring down upon her like a torrent of water from a large waterfall. Like someone caught in the turbulence of a circulating current at the base of a dam, Suzie couldn't escape the repetitive cycle of questions and exaggerated worries. It kept cycling and cycling to the point where Suzie slapped Bucky's hand away from where he pressed a damp rag against a cut on her forehead.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help," Bucky said.
They had completed a brief mission and suffered few casualties. The cut came from when Bucky had tackled her to the ground yet again, even though the enemy had not stopped their location nor had any intention of attacking them anytime soon.
Jumping to her feet, Suzie shoved him away. "That's the problem, Bucky, you always want to help! I don't. Need. It."
Bucky frowned and crossed his arms over his chest disapprovingly. "Do you want to get an infection?"
"No!" When Bucky raised an eyebrow at her outburst, Suzie rubbed her palms over her eyes in frustration. "I understand you're worried about me, but there's a fine line between normal and excessive. I'm not a child anymore; I don't always need help, especially not with cutting my own food or cleaning my own wounds."
To drive her point home, Suzie added, "I know I'm not as strong or as fast as the men here, and I'm not skilled in certain things most soldiers should be, but I completed all the training, passed all the tests. Sure, some of it I never would've passed if others didn't help, but why can't you see that I'm not entirely helpless? As stubborn and cliche as it sounds, I don't need you defending me all the damn time. I'm not asking you to completely leave me alone, I'm just asking you to please stop breathing down my neck. It's driving me insane, and I can't do my job if you don't even let me do it in the first place."
Suzie willed him to listen by pleading silently through their locked eyes. His lips pursed in thought, and his eyes narrowed while he contemplated Suzie's words. After an agonizingly long minute of tense silence, Bucky's lips curled downward, and he let out an exasperated sigh.
In a sudden motion, he flung the balled-up rag toward Suzie's face where it fanned out and draped over her head. "Fine, get an infection, see if I care."
He turned his back toward her and walked away.
"I'm being reasonable!" Suzie shouted at the back of his head. When he kept walking, Suzie threw the rag onto the ground and used the heel of her boot to drive the rag into the dirt while letting out a slew of curses.
Too caught up in her childish tantrum, she didn't hear Steve approach until he clapped a hand on her shoulder. The sudden contact startled her, and she whipped around to see his large form standing next to her. Craning her neck to look upward instead of down as she used to do to little Stevie, Suzie realized how much she missed being the taller of the two. At least Steve wouldn't go to extreme lengths to annoy her and respected her decisions.
"What's going on?" Steve asked. He wore his military regalia accented by all the shiny metals pinned to the front of his green jacket. The uniform made him look rather dashing and confident, but his usual gentleness shone in his blue eyes.
"I can't take it anymore!" Suzie practically shouted as she tugged at her hair. "He's driving me insane. I'm not a child, I don't need constant supervision."
"Bucky?"
Suzie nodded. "He's always pestering me about things I can handle on my own. It's annoying!"
Steve's lips pressed in a firm line. "If it's any comfort, he's doing it to me, too."
Reaching the point where she would willingly drop to her knees and beg Steve for help if Bucky didn't stop on his own, Suzie caught his wrist and pleaded," Can you talk to him? Please? He'll listen to you. I can't do my job if he's constantly looking over my shoulder and making sure I don't get hurt or something. Please, Steve, I'm seriously going to lose it if he doesn't stop."
Steve sighed. "I'll try."
While battle plans and strategies garnered most of his attention, Steve resolved to keep his promise to Suzie and talk to Bucky about his friend's immoderate attempts to insert himself between both reasonable danger and mundane affairs. It took a week before Steve had the chance to finally track his friend down and corner him in their shared tent.
Early one morning, while Bucky started shaving, Steve stood up from his cot and walked over toward the entrance of the tent to lace up his boots. The show of being casual and calm would distract his friend into letting his guard down and, hopefully, listening to what Steve had to say.
"How are you doing?" Steve asked, starting with something small to draw Bucky into the conversation. He had rehearsed his words beforehand, and because Bucky tended to bottle up his emotions, Steve knew it took time and a firm yet gentle hand to coax him into talking about difficult topics.
Case in point:
"I'm fine," Bucky said toward the mirror hanging from the post in the middle of the tent. The white shaving cream puffed around his chin like a beard they used to make from bath bubbles.
Knowing how vain Bucky could get, Steve chose this particular moment to initiate the confrontation. Because his pride would prevent him from walking out of the tent with a half-shaven face full of shaving foam, Bucky would have to at least wait until he finished shaving before he could storm out and hide from Steve. Or resort to drinking his feelings away.
In the meantime, Steve decided to cut straight to the chase. "I received some complaints about you."
"Who complained?" Bucky asked. "About what?" To his credit, Bucky appeared unfazed. Either he didn't know what he did wrong or didn't care. He tilted his chin up, and as he slid the razor across the skin under his chin, he watched the reflection in the mirror to avoid cutting himself.
"You're being overbearing, and it's starting to aggravate some of the soldiers. You're distracted, and it could cost us if you don't regain focus."
Bucky's eyes narrowed, and he faced Steve head-on. Shaving cream slipped from his razor as he flung out an arm. In his current state, the white foam on his face made him look like a leaner version of Santa Claus. "Is this some sort of intervention?" Bucky accused, catching on right away. He pointed his razor at Steve. "Who asked you to do this?"
"Suzie came and talked to me. Said you never left her alone."
Bucky snorted. "Of course she did." He returned to shaving the rest of the stubble under his chin.
"Can you tell me what's going on?" Steve leaned against the edge of the table where he could face Bucky and crossed his ankles in a casual yet observant manner.
"Nothing's going on."
"Bucky, this is a serious problem. Suzie is more than capable of handling herself, but she can't prove it if you don't let her." When Bucky opened his mouth to protest, Steve held up a hand and continued, "Look, I know you're worried she might get hurt. I am, too. But she's an enlisted soldier who has completed all the training and has proven her skills long before we met her here. Besides, this isn't just harming her—it's also harming you."
"I said I'm fine, Steve," Bucky snapped. He tried to ignore Steve while he finished shaving, but Steve's position kept him in Bucky's line of sight.
"Between this and the nightmares, you've barely slept," Steve pointed out. It was a low blow to mention the nightmares that Bucky had tried his hardest to keep to himself, but even though it made Bucky flinch a little, he did lower his razor and glared at Steve.
"How much have you slept?" Bucky shot back. "I'm fine."
"You're jittery." Steve pointed to where Bucky tapped his razor against his leg. Once Steve pointed it out, Bucky looked down as if unaware of his nervous twitchiness. It took a few seconds of staring before the tapping to slow to a stop.
"I'm fine. I'm fine." Bucky repeated, either for himself or Steve's benefit, Steve didn't know. He rolled his shoulders and focused on the mirror again. "I'm fine."
"Bucky, you know if there's something wrong, you can always tell me. I'm not here to judge or accuse you of anything—I'm just trying to figure out what's best for everyone."
Giving up on finishing his shave, Bucky threw up his hands and whirled on Steve. A little glob of shaving cream slid off his face and onto the ground at his sudden movement. "What am I supposed to do, huh? I'm not one of Stark's machines, there's no off switch. And what if someone gets hurt? What if Suzie gets hurt?"
Arms flying in a wild arch at the tent around them, Bucky scoffed. "We've got better things to do instead of staging a useless intervention when there's nothing wrong with
me."
Pressing his lips together to show the seriousness of the conversation, Steve said, "Buck, yesterday you made me prove I washed my hands before we ate."
"So?" Bucky shrugged, clearly not understanding Steve's point. "Germs are a real problem. We can't win the war if we're all sick."
Realizing they were going in circles and that Bucky would not hear any further counterpoints, Steve sighed and stood up. "Can you please at least try to settle down? For me? For Suzie?"
After he used a hand towel to wipe the residual foam from his jaw, Bucky stared at Steve. His eyes appeared rather sad all of a sudden, and the fight evaporated out of him. "Maybe there is something wrong with me. Either way, I need to know that Suzie's okay. I can't let her out of my sight because what if something happens and I'm not there to intervene? I'm supposed to protect her. You wouldn't understand 'cause you don't have any younger siblings."
"Suzie's practically family to me, same as you," Steve said. "We're all scared, but if we let fear of the unknown control us, then we can't be productive in the present. I cannot say that everything is going to be easy because we're at war, and terrible things happen. However, you should understand that we've got a whole army here to keep an eye on her. You don't have to do this alone, and it certainly shouldn't be distracting both of you."
"I can't turn it off," Bucky admitted. "It's like I'm stuck being hyper-aware of everything, and all these scenarios keep running through my mind."
"If you can't stop, then learn to control it instead of letting it control you," Steve offered. "Trust Suzie to do her job. Let her rely on you when she needs it, not when she doesn't. You're stunting both of you because you refuse to leave her alone. I know it's difficult, but it'll be better for all of us if you could try to calm down a little."
Bucky paused a moment to think through everything before he grabbed his jacket from his cot and slid it on. Not bothering to style his hair, Bucky fixed his hat to balance haphazardly on the top of his head.
"We've got a meeting to attend." He strode over to the exit of the tent, but before he left, he added, "Put on a jacket; it's getting cold out."
He tried his best to leave Suzie alone, he really did. However, as the weeks wore on and they drew ever closer to the French-German border, the tension inside of his chest grew tighter and stronger. It gnawed at him like a dog chewing on a bone, its teeth threatening to tear him apart from the inside out if he couldn't learn to control it.
Thoughts of Suzie falling victim to a bullet or Hydra capturing and experimenting on her like what they did to him plagued every waking moment. The persistent voice in his head urged him to always check on his sister. Who knows what might have happened since the last time he saw her? He wouldn't know for certain until he saw for himself.
They were safe at camp. They had hundreds of soldiers for allies who would defend each other if the situation arose. Soldiers always kept patrols and the watchful eyes of men never let their guards down in the middle of a war-torn country. The chances of an unexpected attack on the camp were extremely slim, but never zero. And that one percent of anything going wrong pulled him toward wherever he could keep an eye on his sister.
Most of the time he didn't notice his movements until Suzie appeared in his line of sight. The instant the beginnings of a spiral into a series of "what-ifs" popped into his head, his feet moved long before he even became aware of doing so. His body went into autopilot as his brain hyper-fixated on the worst of the worst.
He had to protect his sister. He had to be there in case something happened. He had to know she was always okay or otherwise, he would descend into uncontrollable jitters like an addict going through withdrawal.
Whenever Steve caught him tapping his foot or glancing nervously around him, Bucky would feign ignorance and pretend nothing had happened. Inside, however, his nerves ran on high all the time and not even sleep could stave it off.
Between the nightmares about Azzano and Hydra and images of Suzie, Travis, and Ma dying in gruesome ways, falling asleep no longer meant rest. He tossed and turned all night, woke up at all hours, or fell into a pit of darkness where he could not crawl out of no matter how hard he tried. The nightmares latched onto him tighter than the leather straps once tethering him to the table in Zola's lab. Once he fell into the clutches of a nightmare, he could only let it play through to release himself from the horrible dreams.
And even then, sometimes he lay awake staring at the burlap ceiling of the tent, unable to move anything other than his eyes. Sometimes he saw Zola standing in the corner of the tent, his grin a little too wide for a human being to produce. Other times Schmidt's blood-red skull towered over Suzie's mangled body. More often than not, if he lay chained to his cot by unseen paralysis, an inky shadow would hover near him not touching but always reaching a bony, clawed hand toward his chest.
He never told Steve about the demonic shapes he saw after the throes of a nightmare. If Steve ever found out about Bucky's hallucinations, he would send him to a psychiatrist who in turn would send Bucky home. And if Bucky went home, then nobody would be here to protect Suzie—or Steve.
And so he endured all while plunging into a deeper and deeper cycle of desperation. Because his actions caught the attention of Dugan and the others, Bucky struggled to stifle the ever-increasing dread threatening to burst out of his chest. Instead of fixing the problem, he got better at hiding the innate desire to always know his sister's whereabouts.
Too bad the world decided to move on without him. At this point, all he could do was hold on for dear life and try his best to not fall or puke from the ride.
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you put it—the 90th Infantry settled down in little camps throughout Cattenom, a commune in France near the Moselle River. For the first time in months, Bucky's group diverged from Suzie's unit. Because the 90th didn't want all the regiments in one place while so close to the border, they were only separated by a few miles. Yet, to Bucky, an entire country divided the siblings, and the urgency to find his sister grew stronger each day they remained apart.
November rolled around, letting the troops relax with a hot shower, movies, and church services before an intensive five-day training session. All the units in the 90th—Captain America's crew included—learned river-crossing techniques while the brass ironed out the plans. The days blurred into a numb state of blankness as Bucky disguised his anxiety about Suzie's unit being one of the first to cross the river.
Thank the heavens that Steve let the Captain Crew—gosh, they really needed a name—work alongside the 358th and its sister regiments. Bucky thanked Steve for his generosity but Steve made Bucky promise to leave Suzie alone. He said he couldn't make a promise he wouldn't keep, but he promised to at least try.
A fresh downpour in the pitch-black sky started off the cold and hazy evening of November 8th. Why they chose to move at night, nobody knew. Something about secrecy, but at this point, a half-frozen and tired Bucky only cared about a warm shelter—and his sister—instead of tactics.
It could've been worse—they could have marched in this awful weather. Captain America's crew were lucky enough to hitch a ride in a Jeep, but the open top left them exposed to the elements. To conserve warmth, they sat huddled in the back like a flock of shivering penguins. Steve's use of his shield to block some of the rain like a fancy, vibranium umbrella would have worked if the wind hadn't decided to dance around them and hurl stinging rain at their faces from all directions.
The rain thankfully stopped as the morning dawned. It still, however, took a few hours for their soggy clothes to dry out. It chaffed and they would all end up with blisters soon but, hey, at least they weren't water-logged and cold anymore.
In times like these, they took all the little wins they could get.
On the plus side, Bucky could finally check on his little sister no matter how brief the interaction lasted. He didn't miss the twitch of her lip curling into a frown or the way her eyes narrowed when he approached. Despite clear signs of irritation, she answered his questions anyway and let him double-check her equipment before they called it a night.
Any rest prior to the battle came in vain because everything came to fruition the next day.
Bright and early on Thursday, November 9th, long before sunrise, the troops slid the boats onto the banks of the river and prepared to cross. The bases in Cattenom provided the assault boats that the units used, and now they had the opportunity to put their training to the test. Due to the 90th leaving at three o'clock in the morning, enemy resistance did not make an appearance.
Troops sailed across the river without any resistance and marched about a mile inland to a railroad track. Reports from the first units to land claimed they remained largely undiscovered yet not wholly unopposed. Little resistance, if any occurred, and so the rest of the troops made their way to launch. And so over the river and through the fields to the railroad tracks they went.
However, as most plans went, something flipped shortly after five o'clock in the morning. The Germans woke up and instantly chose violence. Heavy artillery rained upon almost all the 90th's regiments, the 358th included.
By seven o'clock, the sun allowed everyone to see the carnage unobscured. The Germans' defensive machine guns and artillery targeted the crossing site and slowed the advancement. Casualties racked up on both sides yet neither side made any significant dent in the other's troops.
The bloodbath wore on and the earth continued its rotation, oblivious to the destruction on its surface. The construction of a bridge began too slow, and so all supplies had to be hand-carried to the opposite river bank. Even with Captain America on their side, the battle became critical as the river decided it had enough of the pesky humans breaching its waters and joined in on the fighting.
The once peaceful river threw a fit over the human bloodshed and swelled into a raging flood. Any previous wire communications attached to the German side of the river washed away in the swift currents. Unlucky soldiers drowned, struck by bullets, or shot and then drowned when the injury knocked them overboard. Any further attempts to bring supplies to those running out in German territory slowed to a halt.
Steve, the absolute dumbass, did everything in his power to turn the tide of the battle amongst a raging river, dwindling supplies, and a stubborn line of German defenses. He ran headlong into machine gun pillboxes, smashed artillery guns, and broke a respectable dent in the Germans' forces. Captain America's crew followed in his wake, paving the way for the rest of the 90th to advance.
Little by little, the 90th pushed and struggled against the onslaught of the Germans and the deadly, surging river. The whole situation was far from ideal, but then again, when did missions ever go according to plan? Cap's team knew how to improvise, adapt, and overcome the difficulties waiting for them at every turn. The rest of the 90th followed suit, and together, they shoved their way through the German line.
Suzie's unit reached a point twenty miles into German territory. Not one to leave his sister unguarded in trademarked Naziland, Bucky split his attention between keeping an eye on where she hunkered down in a captured German trench next to her red-headed friend and making sure Steve wouldn't do something idiotic like taking on a tank alone. Dividing his focus into two proved rather difficult and downright dangerous. Somehow, against all odds, he managed to sprint across an open field unharmed and plaster himself next to Suzie's side.
Skillfully packing Suzie between himself and the redhead, Bucky glanced over her to check for injuries. Before he could open his mouth, she cut him off.
"I'm okay," Suzie stated. The rifle in her hands kicked into her shoulder from the force of its firing. A German soldier standing behind a machine gun on a small hilltop slumped over onto his gun.
"Just checking. Geez, don't bite my head off," Bucky said. He nodded in approval at the accuracy of Suzie's shot.
"If we don't get more supplies across the river soon, we might have to bite your head off," the redhead remarked. "We're all getting low on ammo. By the looks of it, we'll be here for a while, so rations are gonna be a problem, too."
Neglecting to comment on the feeble attempt at dark humor, Bucky picked off a few more German soldiers. The crack of their guns fell into a synchronized chorus as the three skilled marksmen took out German defenses from a distance.
"Gotta admit, you're talented, kid," Bucky said to the redhead. Richie? Rich? Richard? Eh, it didn't matter.
"Thanks, Sarge," the man replied, somehow rather chipper in the middle of a battle.
"We've got it handled over here. You can go," Suzie said in the least subtle way possible.
Taking the hint yet ignoring it all the same, Bucky refused to move until another machine gunner fell. He left a wide berth around Suzie's location and double-checked for any incoming enemies. As satisfied as someone amid a fight could ever get, Bucky ruffled Suzie's hair and forced himself to uphold his promise to let Suzie do her job.
The fight turned into a stalemate, each side laying down heavy casualties upon the other. The Germans countered any advancement the 90th attempted at full force. The sun set and then rose, and then set and then rose, again and again. All the while, the 90th trudged through the bloody landscape and rammed against an invulnerable wall of persistent Krauts. The bastards vowed to keep their country from falling into the hands of the Allies, but the 90th were not ones to surrender.
Even when the daytime brawl stretched out into a week-long excursion, the Allies refused to give up the river or retreat. Any hold they achieved cemented a small victory for the Allies the instant their stubbornness outmatched the Germans. Like rock-crawling on a slippery slope against an avalanche determined to plow anything off the face of the cliff, the Allies held on, and little by little, they made their way further into Germany.
Deciding to finally let go and allow Steve to do his thing, Bucky devoted his entire attention to creating a wide circle around Suzie. Anyone who stepped foot in the invisible circle or aimed a weapon in her direction earned a swift bullet through the chest. It got to the point where Suzie threw up her hands and whined that Bucky hadn't saved anything for her to shoot. The redhead also joined in on the complaining and tried to move the duo to another location.
Another location meant another protective bubble surrounding Suzie and her friend. Steve, Jones, and Dugan tried to persuade Bucky to give Suzie some space, but he refused to listen. He was technically clearing a significant area of the battlefield, and so Steve left him to act as a one-man guardian angel wielding a fancy, Stark-approved rifle.
On Monday, November 13th, the fifth day of fighting, the first snow of the season fell. The 358th and other units had taken a hill after traversing a thick cluster of trees and muddy fields while avoiding the brunt of the usual defensive barrage from the Germans
Six days after the initial attack, construction on the bridge finished and much-needed vehicles rolled into the fray. Three more days of fighting ensued before the 90th could finally announce they controlled the Moselle River.
Then and only then did Bucky finally allow Suzie some breathing room. By the time he let her get in a few shots of her own, most of the fighting had died down and the Allies were in the process of cleaning up the mess and burying their dead. They set up camp somewhere in the captured area between the French towns of Inglange and Metzervisse.
The instant the brass declared a break to rest and recoup, Suzie stormed straight over to Bucky and lit into him with all the fire of one of Ma's lectures.
"What is the hell wrong with you?!" Suzie shouted. She jabbed a finger into his chest hard enough to bruise if not for his protective, Stark-designed uniform.
"I'm making sure you don't get hurt," Bucky retorted and slapped her finger away. To prevent her from prodding him again, he crossed his arms over his chest. "You shouldn't yell at an officer."
"Don't you dare pull rank on me! Contrary to what you believe, you can't boss me around. I'm not one of your subordinates and you sure as hell can't push your way into my orders like some glorified know-it-all. This isn't my first rodeo, James Buchanan; I can handle shit like this!"
Scowling, Bucky leaned forward condescendingly. "Oh, I'm sooo sorry. Unlike Steve, you don't have any superpowers."
"Yeah, well, neither do you, asshole," Suzie snapped.
"Well, I've got—"
"More experience and better knowledge of war," Suzie interrupted. "Yeah, I get it. I still don't care."
"I'm not kidding, Suzie," Bucky snarled. "This is a serious situation and I'm trying my best to keep you safe."
Suzie scoffed. "I thought Steve told you to back off."
"It doesn't matter what Steve said. I can do my own thing."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should listen to your captain because you sure as hell ain't listening to me." Suzie waved a hand in the air towards Steve's general direction. "Why the hell does it matter so much? You used to always pester Steve, not me."
"Steve doesn't need me anymore 'cause he's out here acting like a damn Greek hero."
He bent his knees to mock Suzie's height. "I'm glad he's able to take care of himself, I really am, but do you realize how freakin' weird it is to hear Steve's voice in that body?" He pointed at the town where Steve ran around doing important Captain America things.
Bucky continued, renewed by a necessity to get Suzie to understand his position. He had never told anyone about something like this but now at the first opportunity he got since seeing Steve's jacked-up body, it all came pouring out. "The few constants in my life have completely disappeared, and where does it leave me? Steve's no longer asthmatic and dying of some sorta illness almost every damn day, you're over here shooting Nazis like a badass, and I'm just…Bucky. So sorr-ee for caring about you 'cause the only thing left in my life I can still do is to protect my family."
Suzie's face fell and she sniffed. "Can you…can you please just tone it down a bit? My COs are starting to question things."
Taking a deep breath to quiet his still-racing nerves, Bucky nodded. He opened his mouth to reply but Suzie held up a hand to speak first.
"If you ask if I'm okay, Imma punch you in the face." As she turned to walk away, she called over her shoulder, "Good night. And don't worry about me."
In the approaching moonlight, Bucky stood and watched his sister join her red-headed friend. Against his tense nerves and heightened senses still coming down from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he monitored Suzie's gait to check for any possible injury. Seeing no signs of anything other than the usual exhaustion and scattering of bruises and scrapes from a week-long battle, Bucky ran a hand through his greasy hair. He needed a shower and a good night's sleep. If only the nightmares would leave him alone, then perhaps he wouldn't be tense all the time.
Dropping his head toward the ground and kicking his heel against the dirt, he muttered to himself, "Good night to you too."
Then he left to check on Steve.
I think I mentioned this before, but there's a theory that the serum enhanced Bucky's instinct to protect. So, he's been extremely overprotective and he's losing sleep because of it. He's also dealing with nightmares and sleep paralysis on top of all the stress of Steve being an idiot and Suzie not being safe at home.
The Moselle River was a real battle. We're getting closer and closer to crossing into Germany.