27.
Allied Camp, Italy
November 3rd, 1943
The crowd of soldiers in front of the stage is silent. Five miles from the front, they can only faintly hear the sounds of guns and explosions, and it's awfully unnerving. The day is miserable, the sky a dark grey, rain threatening to fall on the muddy campsite.
"How many of you are ready to help me sock old Adolf on the jaw?" Steve asks cheerfully to the continued silence of the glum soldiers. None of them look very impressed. Isabel covers her face in embarrassment for Steve. She'll be having a stern talk with Brandt over his choice of script. "Okay. Uh… I need a volunteer."
"I already volunteered! How do you think I got here?" A voice heckles from the crowd, the soldiers laughing. "Bring back the girls!"
The soldiers start a chorus of cheers, and Steve immediately fumbles. "I think they only know one song. But um… let me… I'll…" Steve meets Isabel's eyes, and she hurriedly waves for him to come off stage. While their first show the day before in London had been an undeniable hit, the first show of the European leg is not going well. "I'll see what I can do," Steve manages, moving to step offstage.
"You do that, sweetheart."
"Nice boots, Tinkerbell!"
"Come on, guys. We're all on the same team here," Steve tries to reason.
"Hey, Captain! Sign this!" One soldier yells, standing, turning around and pulling down his pants to reveal his behind. The soldiers laugh, beginning to hurl tomatoes and other objects at Steve, who blocks them with the shield. He dejectedly walks off stage as the women run back on to dance skimpily to an immediately cheerier crowd.
"Don't worry, pal. They'll warm up to you. Don't worry," Brandt's aid says offhandedly, continuing to watch the girls dance skimpily for the soldiers.
"Come on," Isabel says, dragging Steve to the back of the stage where the music and cheer of the crowd is muffled. "Honestly, what was Brandt thinking. Has he ever met a soldier in his life?"
"That was just terrible," Steve sighs, plopping down on a step. "There's no point. They don't want to hear that stuff from some radio personality. I'm pathetic. I'm a joke to them."
"But you aren't a joke, or pathetic. You want to do good, Steve. That's what you've always wanted for the world. Remember why Erskine chose you."
"I bet he didn't intend for me to be a dancing monkey," Steve says sourly, pulling out a pocketbook and a pencil. He begins sketching a monkey on a unicycle with an umbrella, and Isabel waits patiently as he vents his frustration onto the page. She looks out at the camp around them, watching the men run through the rain from tent to tent, their boots squelching in the mud.
"Hello, Steve, Isabel," they hear a familiar British voice say from behind them, jolting them both out of their reveries.
The friends turn on the step, looking up to see Peggy Carter standing there, glamorous as ever. "Hi," they say in unison, their tones surprised.
"What are you doing here?" Steve asks, as Peggy carefully sits on the next step, flattening down her skirt.
"I thought you were bound for London?" Isabel adds.
"I was. I've been in London a few weeks, but I decided to make the trip out here. Officially I'm not here at all," Peggy says, looking back at the stage behind them. "That was quite a performance."
"Yeah. Uh… I had to improvise a little bit. Crowds I'm used to are usually more, uh, twelve," Steve says bitterly, eyeing the dancing monkey drawing again. Peggy sees it too, raising a perfectly-arched eyebrow.
"I understand you're "America's New Hope"?" Peggy asks.
"Bond sales take a ten percent bump in every state I visit," Steve parrots.
"Is that Senator Brandt I hear?"
"At least he's got me doin' this. Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab."
"I wish they weren't your only two options," Isabel inputs, looking sadly at her friend.
Peggy agrees. "A lab rat or a dancing monkey. You were meant for more than this, Steve."
"Everyone knows it, even the USO Girls see something in you, the makings of a leader. They listen to everything you say, and not just because you're the only man in the troop," Isabel says. Steve nods at this and goes to respond but hesitates. "What?" Isabel presses.
"You know, for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally get everything I wanted, and I'm wearing tights," Steve says with a grimace, looking disgustedly at his legs clad in navy-blue tights.
A honking in the background gets their attention as an ambulance arrives, carrying wounded soldiers into a medical tent. They're bruised and battered, covered in blood, groaning against the movement of their stretcher. "They look like they've been through hell," Steve notes sympathetically.
"These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him and less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the one-oh-seventh. The rest were killed or captured."
"The one-oh-seventh?" Steve says quickly, his eyes widening. He looks at Isabel, who's own face has lost its colour, replaced by a deathly pallor.
"What?" Peggy asks, looking between the two friends with concern.
"Come on!" Steve says, grabbing Isabel's hand and running with her through the rain toward the main tent, Peggy following along behind them, confused, her jacket lifted over her head to protect her hair from the rain.
Steve drags Isabel into Colonel Phillip's tent, both of them soaked from the shower outside. "Colonel Phillips," Steve says sternly, unfazed by the chill of the water.
"Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. And what is your plan today?" Chester Phillips mocks, looking up from his paperwork to stare expectantly at Steve.
"I need the casualty list from Azzano."
"You don't get to give me orders, son," Phillips says warningly.
"Then I just need one name," Steve pushes, stepping closer to Phillips. "Sergeant James Barnes from the hundred and seventh." Isabel takes a sharp intake of breath, and Steve takes her hand in his, squeezing it tight.
Phillips eyes the pair for a moment, unamused, before he turns his glare to Peggy, pointing at her. "You and I are going to have a conversation later that you won't enjoy."
Steve stands a little taller. "Please, tell us if he's alive, sir. B-A-R–"
"I can spell," Phillips snaps. Then, his voice seems to lighten sympathetically, and he sneaks a glance at Isabel. "I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry."
Isabel immediately hides her face in Steve's arm. Steve takes a steadying breath. "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?"
"Yeah, it's called winning the war."
"But if you know where they are, why not at least…?"
"They're thirty miles behind the lines, through the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save. But I don't expect you to understand that, because you're a chorus girl," Phillips growls, going back to signing his condolence letters.
"I think I understand just fine," Steve says, putting his arm around Isabel's shoulders comfortingly, knowing his battle with Phillips is coming to an end.
"Well, then understand somewhere else and get here outta here. If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes," Phillips tells him finally, looking away again.
Steve takes a second to commit the military map beside Phillip's desk to memory, a small marker on it indicating where the men are being held. "Yes, sir. I do. Come on, Belle."
Steve leads Isabel from the tent back into the rain, his arm still around her shaking shoulders, both from the cold and from the tears. They hear Phillips snap again at Peggy as they leave, then they hear footsteps behind them as Peggy follows them back to Steve's tent. Steve opens the tent flap and pushes Isabel inside, carefully sitting her on the bed, kneeling in front of her. He wipes a tear from her cheek with a sad smile on his face. "I'm going to go get him, Belle," he promises.
"What?" Isabel sniffs. "No, you can't. You heard the Colonel, it's way too dangerous. You can't!"
"I can, and I will," Steve says stubbornly. He stands, gets out a backpack and begins packing things inside, sliding on a leather jacket, stealing one of the dancer's helmets and scooping up the fake shield.
"What do you plan to do? Walk to Austria?" Peggy asks, entering the tent and putting a comforting hand on Isabel's shoulder.
"If that's what it takes."
"Your friend is most likely dead," Peggy says bluntly, eliciting a fresh bout of silent tears from Isabel.
"You don't know that."
"Even so, Phillips is devising a strategy. If he detects–"
"By the time he does that, it could be too late," Steve decides. He walks out to a jeep out front, swinging his backpack into the passenger seat. Isabel hurriedly follows after him, intent on stopping him, her cheeks soaked with tears and now rain. "You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean it?" Steve asks Peggy, turning to face her.
Peggy nods, squinting through the rain pounding her face. "I did. I meant it."
"Steve, please–" Isabel tries.
"Belle, if you think the same as Peggy then you gotta let me go," he tells her, getting into the jeep. "Stay here and be careful. Stay with Peggy. I'll be back, I promise."
"Don't make those kinds of promises, Steve," Isabel tells him solemnly, leaning against the door of the jeep. "Bucky promised too."
Steve looks up at her sadly, his hand pausing with the key already inserted into the ignition. He almost looks as if he may stop and think about what he's doing, or maybe won't go at all, until–
"Wait!" Peggy says suddenly. "I can do better than this."
Isabel is a wreck. Steve left her on the ground of the tarmac over three hours ago, flying off in a tiny little plane with Peggy, piloted by none other than Howard Stark. She'd watch the plane disappear before trudging back into the camp, soaked to the bone from the rain and shaking from the cold, heading straight back to Steve's tent. She'd changed clothes and thrown on another jacket, then sat on the bed. She watches out the flaps of the tent as the sun sets over the tree line, the darkness enclosing the camp leaving an awfully eerie atmosphere of isolation. She taps her hand on her leg and her foot on the floor, both waiting and distracting herself. It's absolute hell.
When Peggy Carter finally steps into the tent, she looks unfazed by the events of the last few hours. She's wearing a fitted brown leather jacket, a scarf tied neatly around her dainty neck, her hair tied back into a ponytail. She looks more like a film star than a secret agent on the battlefield.
"We tried to take him all the way in, but our plane was bombarded. He parachuted into the general area, only a few miles from the factory. The rest is up to him," Peggy says, taking a seat beside Isabel. She looks at the young girl carefully, her brown eyes critical. "Lucky I turned down fondue with Stark in Lucerne, you're a sweat."
"What?" Isabel breathes, extremely confused.
"You're worrying," Peggy reiterates. "Try not to. I gave Steve a transponder. He'll activate it when he's ready and the signal will lead us straight to him. Howard and I will send a team to retrieve them."
"And what if it doesn't work? What if you can't find him?"
"As Stark told him, the transponder has been tested more times than he has. And if it doesn't, I'm sure Steve, as well as any members of the 107th he finds, will be more than capable of finding their way to the nearest Allied camp." Peggy stands up then, grabbing Isabel's arm and gently hauling her up as well. "Come on. We need to keep our minds off of it, and you need to eat. Let's brave the mess hall. If we're lucky enough the men will find us attractive and will give up their seats."
Azzano, Italy
November 3rd, 1943
Steve runs through the dark forest, keeping low to the ground. He stops by a road, right near the entrance to the Hydra factory. Spotlights stroll across the grounds and fence line, two guard boxes positioned either side of the entrance. At the sound of an approaching car, Steve hides in the bushes, watching as multiple trucks pass into the factory grounds. He waits until the last truck passes and then sprints up behind it, jumping over the lip into the bay. He tumbles in through the canvas flaps, greeted by two Hydra soldiers in black masks staring at him.
"Fellas," Steve says, before they run at him. He easily gets in two punches to each's face, then throws them out the back of the truck onto the road.
The truck passes through the secure gate without question, backing up to a loading bay at the side of the factory. Steve waits with his shield in front of him for a Hydra worker to open the canvas flap, knocking him backward with the metal plate as soon as he does. He quickly jumps out of the truck bay, sneaking through the yard of cars, trucks and tanks undetected. Each vehicle is marked by a large painted emblem of Hydra, the octopus seemingly glaring at him as he passes.
Steve mounts a tank and uses it to climb up onto the roof of a small building, running along it to find access to the main building looming in front of him, over fifteen stories high and black as the night sky, only visible thanks to the lighted windows.
Steve manages to sneak into the Hydra factory undetected, finding an open window along the main building and squeezing inside, the shield only getting caught momentarily on the windowsill. He hurries through the hallways, crouching low with the shield clipped onto his back and his pistol raised. He follows the hallways far into the factory, hoping he'll end up on the factory floor. He doesn't speak German, not even a lick of it, so none of the signs pointing him in various directions make any sense.
When he reaches a locked door with a small glass window, he peers through it, seeing the floor before him. A guard paces in front of it, his eye on the rafters high above them. Steve knocks quietly on the door, getting an agent's attention. The agent peers around the door, getting his head squashed between the door and the frame before Steve punches him square in the nose, dragging his unconscious body away from the factory floor and hiding it in a nearby cupboard. Steve creeps inside carefully, hurrying between the crates and machinery to hide himself from the patrolling Hydra goons.
From between a cluster of upright missiles he hears the sound of male American voices talking. He tries to make his way toward the voices, his pistol raised, but is distracted by a round machine holding vials of electric blue liquid. He picks up a blue shining cartridge, unaware what it is but thinking it may be useful, and pockets it.
Eventually he comes to a part of the factory where the floor on his level is made entirely of grate. When he looks through the slits in the metal, he can make out multiple bodies in round cells below, the majority of them wearing the American Army uniform. He hits a patrolling soldier from behind, knocking him to the floor, his face pointed down to the soldiers below. They stare up in confusion, hurrying to stand and watch as Steve takes the keys to the cell from the man's belt.
"Who are you supposed to be?" An African-American soldier asks.
"I'm…" Steve hesitates. "Captain America."
"I beg your pardon," a British accent speaks up, the man wearing a maroon beret and wielding a dark moustache. Steve ignores him, hurrying below to unlock the prison cells, the prisoners of war pouring out of their confined spaces.
A man with a bowler hat and an impressive orange moustache eyes a Japanese looking man carefully. "What, are we taking everybody?"
The Japanese man takes out his dog tags, the metal clinking together. "I'm from Fresno, Ace," he says with a Californian accent.
Steve ignores them, leading the group of men away from the cells. "Is there anybody else?" He asks worriedly. "I'm looking for a Sergeant James Barnes."
"Why's he looking for Bucky?" Bowler-hat guy asks his friends.
"There's an isolation ward in the factory, but no one's ever come back from it," the British soldier offers, though he seems unsure.
"Alright," Steve says. "The tree line is northwest eighty yards past the gate. Get out fast and give 'em hell. I'll meet you guys in the clearing with anybody else I find."
Steve turns to leave. "Wait!" The African-American stops him, causing him to turn back. "You know what you're doin'?"
"Yeah," Steve nods. "I've knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times." He runs off toward the isolation ward, leaving the men to nod their heads in surprise.
After a few minutes, the alarm of the factory begins to sound, and Steve hears the sound of explosions outside. He supposes the men really are giving them hell. A few minutes later, another siren blares, this one ominous. Steve hesitates and looks around, continuing when no one comes emerging to attack him.
Unknown to Steve, Schmidt is watching him on the monitors in the control room and has set the factory to self-destruct in seven minutes.
"What are you doing?" The frog-like Zola hisses, confronting his boss.
"Our forces are outmatched. Secure the blueprints," Schmidt tells Zola, leaving the room to secure the Tesseract. Zola takes a look at the screens, seeing a man clad in stars and striped sprint past the monitor. He hurries from the room, entering the isolation ward where the American Sergeant lies on a metal slab. He quickly packs up his blueprints before hurrying from the room, leaving the mumbling man. It physically hurts him to leave his project behind, especially when there's been so much progress, but Zola lacks the time and the strength to bring the Sergeant along with him. Besides, he has faith that in time, the Sergeant will be brought back into his possession for further experimentation.
Steve pauses in the damp, dark, bricked hallway when a short man wearing glasses emerges from a side door, running away from him down the corridor. Steve hesitates to chase him, hearing a mumble from the room he vacated. He peers inside, walking around the corner carefully, freezing momentarily when he sees Bucky lying on a sterile operating table.
"Sergeant. 32557…" Bucky mumbles over and over, his eyes unfocused as he stares up at a massive laser beam above him. Steve runs over to him.
"Bucky," he says, trying to get his friend's attention, but Bucky continues mumbling, his eyes zoning out. "Bucky, oh my God." Steve hurries to unstrap Bucky, the tearing of the material jolting Bucky from his trance. He slowly looks toward Steve, his eyes widening slightly.
"Is… Is that…?"
"It's me. It's Steve," Steve reassures, looking worriedly down at him.
"Steve!" Bucky realises, his mouth stretching into a wide grin of relief.
"Come on," Steve says, easily hauling Bucky into a sitting position and helping him jump off the table. He holds Bucky's weight as Bucky stumbles, trying desperately to regain his energy. He has no idea how long he was laying on the table for. It could have been minutes, or hours, or weeks. And he also has no idea what was done to him. He feels a dull pain in the crease of his elbow where they'd set him up with a drip.
Bucky eventually manages to look up, panting heavily. Steve's eyes are heartbroken, and he grasps the back of Bucky's neck, seeming unable to believe Bucky's here. "I thought you were dead."
It's then that Bucky takes a good look at Steve, realising he's a good foot taller and built like a house. "I thought you were smaller," Bucky says quietly, wondering whether this was another drug-induced hallucination. He's had a few of those on the table and while he'd somewhat welcomed them because they put him at ease and filled in the time, they also made his heart ache and his brain hurt when they ended and he found he wasn't actually in Brooklyn but still on the table. Bucky reaches out to touch Steve's arm, feeling the warmth of flesh and muscle beneath his leather jacket. None of his hallucinations had felt real when he'd touched them, but he still isn't entire convinced.
Steve jolts at the sound of an explosion within the building, then catches sight of a map of Europe on the wall, little markers indicating where the major Hydra factories are located. He studies it, commits it to memory, before wrapping Bucky's arm over his shoulders. "Come on."
He supports Bucky's weight as they run from the room, Bucky clutching to him tightly. "What happened to you?" He asks incredulously.
"I joined the Army," Steve answers simply.
Bucky slowly gains strength and manages to run on his own, stumbling at first and still doubled over as if pained. "Did it hurt?"
"A little," Steve admits, striding confidently down the hallway.
"Is it permanent?" Bucky asks, his voice laced with frustration and disbelief that's always evident when he's around Steve.
"So far," Steve says nonchalantly.
On the factory floor between them and their exit, the factory goes up in smokes, explosions setting off in every area as the countdown reaches zero. Steve and Bucky descend the stairs to the balconies over the factory floor, watching as the ground beneath them is drenched in white hot flames. Steve jumps back as an explosion licks up toward them, hurrying back up the stairs to a higher level, looking for a way to cross the exploding metal ravine. He spots a bridge and runs for it, only to halt at the sound of his name.
"Captain America!" A German accented voice calls from the other side of the floor. "How exciting! I am a great fan of your films!" A middle-aged, dark-haired man tells him, handing a long rectangular case to the small doctor Steve had spotted earlier. Bucky freezes up at the sight of them both, glaring at Zola whilst also looking like he may be sick.
Steve leaves Bucky on the solid balcony, crossing onto the bridge to meet the man in the middle. "So, Doctor Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still impressive," the man mocks, earning himself a hard punch to the cheek from Steve.
"You've got no idea."
Schmidt holds his face in shock, clutching his sore jaw. Steve frowns when he sees that his eyes look warped, a bit of red appearing from beneath them as though his skin shifted.
"Haven't I?" Schmidt asks, lashing out at Steve, but Steve blocks the punch with the shield, and Zola's fist leaves a deep indent in the metal. Steve goes to pull his pistol and Schmidt gets another hit in, sending Steve flying backward and his pistol flying over the edge of the bridge into the fire below. Schmidt moves to descend on Steve again, but Steve kicks him with both legs in the chest, sending him flying backward as well. On the other side, Zola hurriedly pulls a lever, separating the catwalk as both sides retract away from each other, separating the two foes. Steve stands as he moves away, back to Bucky, who leans heavily on the railings for support and coughs at the smoke rising from the fire above, getting thicker in the air around them.
"No matter what lies Erskine told you, you see, I was his greatest success," Schmidt yells, grabbing at his skin and peeling it off to reveal it was a mask to hide a red face underneath, his nose almost entirely missing and his face all bone. Steve and Bucky's stomachs turn uncomfortably, the man before them nothing but a skeleton.
"You don't have one of those, do you?" Bucky asks hoarsely, his face rather pale and his eyes wide.
"Not that I've found," Steve replies, his mouth open in horror and disgust.
"You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality," Schmidt throws his mask into the fire below, and Steve watches it fall. "You are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!" Red Skull tells him as he and Zola escape into an elevator that will see them escape the building.
"Then how come your running?" Steve growls after him as the doors close, hiding the Red Skull and Zola from view.
"Come on, let's go. Up." Steve leads Bucky further up the stairs, nearing the roof of the building. There's a thick metal beam protruding across the gap, connecting both sides. "Let's go. One at a time." Steve sends Bucky out first, who steps carefully across the thin gantry as the factory burns beneath him. At another explosion, the gantry rattles, one side snapping off from the main balcony. Bucky slips and makes a break for it, jumping to the railing and throwing himself over as the beam snaps off, falling into the fire.
Bucky looks around frantically, squinting to see through the smoke that burns his lungs. "There's gotta be a rope or something!"
"Just go! Get out of here," Steve tells him, looking around himself.
"No! Not without you!" Bucky yells back stubbornly. He then coughs violently, having inhaled a large waft of smoke. He grabs the collar of his dirty knitted jumper and presses it against his mouth and nose like a mask to filter the smoke, ignoring the overwhelming smell of body odour, blood, sweat and piss.
Without a choice, Steve grabs a protruding metal railing, bending it inward to create a gap. He takes a few steps backward and sizes up the gap, shaking his head in disbelief, before taking a running start and jumping off the edge. Bucky's eyes widen as Steve comes toward him, engulfed by a sudden blast of fire from below. Time seems to slow down as Steve crosses the chasm, suddenly appearing through the flames and hitting the railing in front of Bucky hard, clutching it frantically to stop from slipping. Bucky grabs his arms and helps haul him over the railing, both of them falling safely onto their backs on the metal grate of the balcony. They take a second to breathe, looking up at the burning roof above.
"What the fuck?" Bucky yells, sitting up on his elbow and hitting Steve's shoulder in anger. "You could've died."
"But I didn't," Steve counters. "Let's get out."
Steve pulls Bucky to his feet and they escape through a door, Bucky still muttering something about Steve being stupid. They find themselves outside the burning building on a ledge that runs around the perimeter of the building. Steve scoots along the edge that feels dangerously high off the ground to a ladder and climbs down with Bucky following, hidden by the darkness.
On the ground below, the entire yard is on fire, every tank and car in flames and Hydra bodies scattering the grounds. Past the fencing along the tree line, Steve can just make out the silhouette of multiple tanks and cars, and a crowd of soldiers awaiting them. Steve and Bucky snag a weapon each from a fallen Hydra soldier and quickly make their way across the grounds with their weapons and shield raised, though there isn't anyone left to attack them. They approach the crowd of soldiers, all of them looking up as the mysterious man who saved them comes into view, accompanied by a familiar face they'd resigned to never seeing again when he'd been taken away from the factory floor by the guards.
"Barnes!" The man with the bowler hat calls gratefully, engulfing Bucky in a tight hug that makes Bucky noticeably wince. "You're a damn stupid kid, you know that?"
"Yeah, I know," Bucky laughs, loosening up and exchanging hugs and handshakes with the other men who Steve had spoken to upon releasing them from their cells.
"Your leg. It's healed," Morita notices, eyeing the leg that Bucky is standing and walking on without a limp.
"Yeah, it was all those days of getting to lie on a table. Hydra was kind enough to fix it for me," Bucky says easily.
Steve pulls the transponder from his pocket, finding it fried from the explosion. He sighs. "We got a long walk back so we gotta get a move on," Steve tells them, pocketing it again. "Anyone who's wounded can ride in a tank or a car. Everyone else will have to walk. We haven't got any rations, so I hope you aren't all too hungry."
"Nah, only ravenous," Dugan jokes. "We can go a few more days before some of us resort to cannibalism."
The mass begins to walk, sticking to the roads and relying on their tanks and newly accumulated Hydra weapons for protection. They don't run into anyone the entire time, the men simply walking, knowing that the end destination will most likely be a ticket home. They did it, they survived the odds.
"What did they have you doing in there, Buck?" Steve asks Bucky as they walk side by side at the front of the pack, Bucky with his rifle at the ready.
"Labour, mainly. Building this massive plane and bombs and weapons to go on it. You'd never believe the size of it, I-I've never seen anything like it. They never told us what it was for, we just kept our heads down and did it or else we didn't come back. They worked us hard, but if we didn't work we didn't eat, not that they gave us much."
"Why were you in an isolation ward? What did he mean about your leg?" Steve asks carefully.
"The he is Jim Morita. The leg was fucked. Bad. When we got captured at Azzano, I took a bullet to the leg trying to get everyone free. Jim got the shrapnel out in the cell, but it was messy. The wound wasn't clean enough and it got infected. I was out for a good three days, and then I was put to work. I pushed through the pain, but one day I collapsed. Probably sepsis or something. When you weren't well enough to work, they took you away. No one ever came back, and we didn't know what happened to them. They took me away, stuck me on the table, put some stuff into me. I don't really know. I wasn't really very lucid, thought I was dead for a little while. They didn't explain much, and I didn't give 'em anything besides my rank and serial number. Next thing I know, you're knocking on my door to pick me up, a head taller and triple your size."
"Who's they?"
"His name is Doctor Zola and he works for Hydra. That's all I really got."
"You don't remember what they did to you? Obviously, your leg healed," Steve notes, since Bucky walks without any trace of a limp.
"I really don't know. One day my leg feels like it's splitting in half, when I wake up, it doesn't hurt one bit. I coulda been out for weeks or I could've been out a few hours. Whatever they did to me fixed it up. Coulda been penicillin, coulda been somethin' more sinister. Guess we'll never found out now. Unless you know something that I don't?" Bucky pushes.
"Maybe," Steve replies. "Could be what happened to me. An enhancement serum."
"So that's why you're taller," Bucky realises.
"Yep. The day you shipped out, I went off to boot camp. They chose me for an experiment, and they gave me the serum. When the procedure was over I looked like this. I could breathe again, and I could see clearly. Took away all of my ailments. Within minutes I was chasing a Nazi spy through the streets of Brooklyn when he stole the last of the serum."
"You get him?"
"No, he took a cyanide pill."
"Damn, in the teeth, right? Sneaky bastards," Bucky says, shaking his head.
"Anyway, Colonel Phillips wanted to send me to Alamogordo to be an experiment, but Senator Brandt took me on instead, sent me on a tour around the country to promote war bonds, named me Captain America," Steve continues.
"You know, I saw those posters and I thought it was just some random idiot. Never in my life would I have guessed it was you."
"I'm a little disappointed you didn't recognise me. The guy on the poster's got my smile and everything," Steve laughs.
"Yeah, well, how was I to know? Last I saw you, you were five feet five and ninety pounds soaking wet. And I didn't want to look like a creeper checking out the poster of 'America's New Hope'," Bucky laughs. "So, this serum. What'd it do to you?"
"Mainly physical changes. It got rid of all my illnesses, gave me increased stamina, strength, and we aren't sure yet because I haven't been injured, but Doctor Erskine predicted I'd have an increased healing factor. That guy with the red skull back in the factory, he was given an earlier version of my serum, but it failed. It was Doctor Erskine's biggest mistake. I was his way of making up for that."
"What about your brain?" Bucky asks. "It make you any smarter? That needed making up for, too."
"Nice, Buck. But if you must know, yes, I think it did. I seem to have developed a photographic memory, and I process information faster than the average person."
Bucky nods. "Not bad. Maybe if whatever those fuckers dosed me up with is half as good as what you've got, this won't be so bad. Coulda just been some damn good pain meds, though and some work from a medic. Jim said I'd heal if I could have surgery."
Steve nods, then leaves Bucky and his friends at the front to travel down the line, checking on the men, both injured and uninjured. He takes his time, talking to the men, asking them about what happened, before returning to the front.
"The men want to walk through the day and the night. Said they'll work out a roster for driving the tanks, walking and sleeping," Steve informs Bucky's friends.
"Sounds good, Cap. The longer we walk, the sooner we get back to camp. I'm dying for a hot meal and a piss that doesn't go in my pants or behind a bush," Dugan says with a hearty laugh, the other men murmuring in agreement.
Steve laughs at the men, though a little grossed out since he's not used to the humour and rejoins Bucky. He finds himself looking at Bucky in awe, since he thought he'd never see his friend again alive.
"Isabel is going to be so excited to see you," Steve says, the comment slipping out.
"I bet. She'll have to wait a while though, I gotta get all the way home first," Bucky smiles.
"Ah yeah. About that," Steve says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
"What?"
"She came with me. She's back at the camp."
"What?" Bucky hisses, pulling Steve to a stop. The entire line comes to a halt behind them. "You brought my sister to a war front? Steve, what the hell is wrong with you? You were supposed to stay home in Brooklyn and look after her. That's what you promised me before I left!"
The men behind them start up a quiet ruckus, hitting Steve's shoulder to indicate he's in trouble.
"As if she was going to stay home," Steve argues. "She's a nurse, she wanted to come. She was a part of the project that did this to me."
"Not comforting," Bucky hisses through gritted teeth, desperately wanting to shake Steve but resisting so he can keep his eyes on the forests around them. "Steve, I swear to God," Bucky says warningly, pointing a finger at Steve.
"She's fine, Buck. She's had no experimenting or anything, she's just keeping an eye on what happened to me to make sure it's permanent," Steve says, pulling on Bucky's arm to get him walking again. The thumping of men's feet on gravel and stone starts up again behind them. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to her. I'll explain everything, I promise."
"Yeah, you better. And you better buy me a stiff drink to pair with that explanation. Or a whole fuckin' bottle would be nice," Bucky growls.
Allied Camp, Italy
November 6th, 1943
Back at the musty camp, Isabel follows Peggy around like a lost puppy, according to Steve's word. She helps Peggy carry her things and they eat meals together, otherwise sitting in the tent and waiting, watching the wind and the rain come and go outside, as well as the soldiers.
On the third day, Isabel follows Peggy into Colonel Phillips base tent, standing back and allowing the agent to deliver her information. Colonel Phillips is busy dictating a letter to a Corporal, who types away on a typewriter.
"Senator Brandt, I regret to report that Captain Steven G. Rogers went missing behind enemy lines on the third. Aerial reconnaissance has proven unfruitful. As a result, I must declare Captain Rogers killed in action. Period," Phillips says, constructing the letter that will be sent to Senator Brandt. The Senator will have a lot of explaining to do to end the USO Tour.
"The last surveillance flight is back. No sign of activity," Peggy announces, further adding to the blow for Isabel.
"Go get a cup of coffee, Corporal," Phillips tells the man, who leaves the tent toward the mess hall with a "yes'sir".
"You know, Miss Barnes," Phillips says. "Since Rogers wasn't a registered soldier with the United States Army, we don't have any of his details on record except what he gave for his involvement in Project Rebirth. The last few days since his absence, I had some of our agents do a bit of digging and we found that he has no living relatives. Since your brother is currently missing in action as well and you are the only other person we are aware of that is of significance to Rogers, that makes you his primary next of kin. Normally these sorts of things are not discussed in person, but you're here. Therefore, it is with all sympathy that I must declare Rogers–"
Isabel shakes her head. "Sorry sir, but it's only been three days," she interrupts. "Steve isn't one to give up when the going gets tough. I'd say he endeavours to complete his mission and won't return until he does so."
Phillips eyes her carefully, but nods. "Consider him missing in action, then," he tells her, before turning a cruel eye on Peggy. "I can't touch Stark. He's rich and he's the Army's number one weapons contractor. You are neither one," he tells the British agent.
"With respect, sir, I don't regret my actions. I don't think Captain Rogers did either," Peggy replies proudly.
"What makes you think I give a damn about your opinions. I took a chance with you, Agent Carter. And now America's golden boy and a lot of other good men are dead because you had a point to prove."
"It wasn't that. I had faith," Peggy answers, ignoring Phillip's undercutting message.
"Well, I hope that's a big comfort to you when they shut this division down," Phillips snarls.
Suddenly, outside the tent, soldiers start running through the camp, talking excitedly. "What the hell's going on out there?"
Phillips follows the crowd of soldiers who make a crowd at the edge of the camp, Peggy and Isabel following and joining the mass, which suddenly parts down the middle. In the distance, a large group of dirty soldiers make their way up the beaten track, the boom-gate opening for them. Steve confidently leads the soldiers through the camp, Bucky on his left flank, hundreds of men filtering behind him driving enemy tanks and cars. Steve marches confidently through the crowd to shouts and cheers, eventually coming to a stop in front of Colonel Phillips in the middle of the camp grounds.
"Bucky?" Isabel cries, pushing through the crowd and throwing herself into her brother with arms outstretched, his gun dropping to the floor as he holds her against him, revelling in the familiar feel he never thought he'd get again. "I thought you were gone, that I was never going to see you again," she cries, grabbing his face and eyeing the cuts and bruises before checking him over for other injuries.
"I'm fine, I'm okay," he reassures her, relief in his own voice as he pulls her in for another hug, halting her examination. The other members of the one-oh-seventh don't dare to say anything, filled with relief that their Sergeant was reunited with his family, and admiration for the bond they clearly share.
"You smell so bad," Isabel mumbles into his shoulder, making the other soldiers laugh.
Beside them, Steve salutes Phillips cautiously. "Some of these men need medical attention," Steve announces. A bunch of medics appear immediately, efficiently grabbing the wounded and leading them toward the medical tent. "I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action."
"That won't be necessary," Phillips says, a faint smile lightening his weary face.
"Yes, sir," Steve says, smiling himself.
Phillips walks away, muttering something to Peggy. Peggy checks that Isabel and Bucky are still reuniting, not wanting to impose, and quickly steps up to Steve.
"You're late. You made your friend very worried," she tells him, putting an emphasis on the word "friend".
"I couldn't call my ride," Steve says, holding up his broken transponder. Peggy takes it off him and smiles.
"Well done, soldier," she says, parting from the group with Colonel Phillips.
Isabel replaces Peggy's departed figure, standing in front of him, both worried and angry and relieved. "Steve, you are an idiot but I'm so proud of you," Isabel tells him, hugging him tightly around his waist.
"I'm sorry for scaring you," Steve mumbles into her hair, holding her around her shoulders. "But I told you I'd bring him back."
"Yeah, you did. And I'll be forever grateful." Isabel pulls away to stand before Steve, smirking up at him proudly as he smiles back. She grabs his hand in her own and squeezes it.
"Hey! Let's hear it for Captain America!" Bucky calls behind them, the men breaking out in cheers and claps, Bucky clapping the loudest of them all and looking on proudly at his friend. Steve turns around and smiles at Bucky, and Bucky returns a "what the heck" kind of look, shrugging.
But as soon as Steve turns away, Bucky's face falls, and he instantly remembers the recent torture and non-consensual medical experimentation he's just been subjected to. He desperately wants to be okay and return to the fearless, naïve, "I can do anything" mentality he held before the war. He's always been a rock for Steve that was there to support him no matter what, and suddenly, he's the one that needs the support from Steve, and the feeling is terrifying. He feels like he's announcing to someone who's seen him as strong all their life, that he's weak.
He also remembers every past experience they've had with fighting. He sees pre-serum Steve back in Brooklyn, unable to ignore a street fight where a bunch of rough teenagers are laying into someone. He sees Steve pass through the crowd and help the victim, even though he's small, managing to beat the bullies with brains and a little brawn and Bucky to save the day. He sees them winning the fight, sending the bullies away, and himself shouting "Let's hear it for Steve Rogers!" to the watching crowd because he can't take all the credit. But no one says a word. Not a cheer to uplift Steve's spirits, and a burden of disappointment settling on Bucky. Now, he thinks of this new, tall, strong Steve; Captain America in all his glory. He saves a lot of soldiers and brings them back from the hell of a Hydra base. He becomes somebody to them all. Bucky shouts "Let's hear it for Captain America!" and the crowd explodes with cheers and applause. Everyone only cheers for the Captain, because the Captain is someone to them. He and his sister are maybe the only people who saw Steve as a hero before he was Captain America, and he's really disappointed that no one else does, too.
Isabel spends the rest of the day in the medical tent, helping the nurses with the overflow of injured, undernourished soldiers. Bucky spends the day in there too, getting checked out for his own injuries and catching up on some much-needed rest. Steve, meanwhile, is summoned to Phillips' tent with Agent Carter, where he recites the tale of saving the prisoners of war and explains the insides of the Hydra factories.
That night, Isabel finds Bucky in Steve's tent, where Steve is still missing. There's another cot set up in the corner, Bucky's possessions on it.
"Steve insisted I have a bed in here with him tonight. Said you were bunking with Carter," Bucky tells her with a sad sort of smile.
"Good," Isabel says, "Steve missed you too much for you to be anywhere else."
"You didn't miss me?"
"'Course I did," Isabel laughs, swatting her brother's shoulder for being so silly.
Bucky smiles, but his façade falls quickly. He sits down on the edge of his cot, leaning forward on his legs and clasping his hands. "Is, I gotta tell you something."
"Okay," Isabel says warily.
"Steve already knows a little bit about it; he's actually the one who put the serum idea in my head. But don't say too much to him, he'll only worry."
"I won't, just… Bucky tell me, you're scaring me."
"Hydra. They experimented on me. I don't know what they did, but they pumped me with this grey, thick liquid that was like fire in my veins. The pain was enough that I think I passed out. When I woke up, I felt different. I dunno how. Then they experimented on me – seeing how long I could hold my breath underwater, testing how long it took for my wounds to heal. And they did heal, fast. A bullet wound to my leg was gone within days. They inflicted a few more injuries on me, cut into my skin, and it healed within hours, not days or weeks."
"You think they gave you a serum like Steve's?" Isabel asks quietly.
She sits down next to Bucky with her medical kit in hand and pulls out a metal stethoscope, leaving a bunch of scalpels and medications in the kit. Bucky flinches and jumps to the other end of the bed at the sight of the medical equipment, forcing himself to take steadying breathes.
"Whoa, Bucky, it's okay. I'd never hurt you," Isabel promises, slowly moving closer and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I just want to see what your vitals are like."
"Okay," Bucky grits out, letting her measure his heart rate, body temperature, blood pressure.
"Your temp is up, but everything else is normal. How do you feel physically?"
"Stronger. Like I could run a marathon and hardly be puffed."
"You said you healed quickly?" She asks, taking a look at the bruises on the sides of his temples. "What are these bruises from?"
"They put me in a chair, Is. Up until the day Steve got me out, they stuck me in the chair a few times every day. I had these pads that stuck here, on my temples, and then they sent electricity through me. They told me the chair was a prototype. It was supposed to wipe my memories. Sometimes, a few of my memories did fade a bit, and for a while when I was mumbling my name, rank and serial number I'd forget my first name or my rank, but it always came back to me."
"W-what?"
"I dunno what they were trying to do, Belle, but I don't like the sound of it. If they were trying to make me like Steve, they wanted me to fight for them without knowing who I was and why I was doing it."
"Buck, they were trying to wipe your memories. To make you an assassin or something. We gotta tell Steve about this," Isabel argues, moving to stand.
"No! Please," Bucky pleads, holding her in place. "If anyone finds out, they'll just want to experiment on me further, work out what it is. I don't trust them. I don't wanna be experimented on again. Don't please, I'm begging you."
"Okay, okay, I won't, I promise," Isabel agrees. Bucky's eyes fill with tears and he leans into her, his chest racking with sobs. Isabel wraps her arms around him, holding him close, his hears soaking her shoulder and her hair.
"They fucked me up really bad, Belle. I don't even know how bad," Bucky says through sobs, his throat hiccuping.
"It's okay, we'll work it out," Isabel promises. She rubs his back comfortingly, waiting for the tears to cease and his breathing to return to normal. "Buck, do you trust me? I know it's a lot to ask, but I want to make sure you're safe and that whatever they did to you doesn't make you sick. I can monitor you, the way I monitor Steve. I'll always tell you what I'm doing before I do it, and I won't force you to continue with anything that makes you uncomfortable. We can stop anytime. I'll just check your vital signs and maybe do some blood tests here and there, just to make sure that whatever they did to you doesn't fade away, or that you don't have a negative reaction to the changes."
Bucky looks at Isabel a while, his eyes wide and his lip pouted as he thinks. "Okay," Bucky agrees eventually. "I trust you."
"But at the first signs of failure, we talk to someone. Whether it be Steve or Stark, I'm sure they could help or find someone to. And you tell me when you notice anything else that's new that wasn't there before you were captured. Agreed?" She pushes, holding Bucky's eyes.
"Okay."
Isabel pulls Bucky back down again, holding him close. "It will all be okay, Bucky. You're safe."
Bucky nods, closing his eyes. In that moment, in the warmth of the tent and cradled in the protective arms of his family, Bucky could almost believe it. Almost.