𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒

༻ ❁ ༺
  

April 19, 1944

Dear Bucky,

I love you.

Five words scrawled on what appeared to be the packaging from a box of syringes. He'd ripped the small letter from the booklet she'd given him and begun carrying it with him almost as soon as he'd said goodbye.

If Steve could have Peggy in his compass, Bucky could have Alice over his heart.

Bucky put his hand on the spot where the note was currently. Through his massively quilted jacket, he couldn't feel it, but he knew it was there. He was anchored by his knowledge. The world underneath him was in upheaval. A factory had caught fire. His girl, on the other hand, and her affection were as steadfast as ever.

Love you too, doll. Back as soon as I take care of this one little thing.

He moved a little further out on the outcropping of rock. The Hydra scientists and their stormtrooper guards were on the run, thanks to his team.

Jacques had done an excellent job. One wall had completely collapsed, and the roof was on fire and about to collapse. He could see Happy and Gabe running down the scientist they were attempting to apprehend in the Jeep up the road.

This is where Bucky liked to be. Looking down from a lofty vantage point. Given the choice, he'd choose a sniper rifle over a machine gun every time.

Regrettably, he didn't always have that option. In close quarters, the rifle wasn't nearly as effective, and much of what they did took place indoors. Inside, he'd grab the machine gun and lean against Steve's right shoulder.

Bucky quickly found Steve in his sights.

Steve's chest had been emblazoned with a big target by the Captain America shield, and Hydra was determined to eliminate him. Bucky was not going to allow that to happen. He looked around Steve for hazards in the debris-strewn environment. The flight in his current area appeared to have subsided.

Black flashed at the edge of his magnified vision.

He had the shot off almost before he identified the target.

The stormtrooper who had planned to capture Captain America as a prize fell over the edge of the wall, almost at Steve's feet.

Steve tossed a thank you salute in Bucky's direction.

Bucky gritted his jaw and set his eye back to the scope. They would talk about that later.
 

༻ ❁ ༺
 

"—Need to stay in cover. If they know where he is, he's bloody useless!"

Bucky arrived back at the rendezvous point in the middle of a very impassioned rant from Falsworth. 

Falsworth was four inches shorter than his Captain, yet he could lecture like no one Bucky had ever heard before. Bucky attributed it to his English Public-School upbringing. You always anticipated him to pull out a yardstick from nowhere and lash you like a mischievous schoolboy.

The rest of the team had already returned to the jeep to watch the show. Pinky gave a full canteen to Bucky, who gratefully accepted it before securing the sniper weapon in the rear of the jeep.

The jeep was empty except for their gear, which meant the scientists were all dead. Probably cyanide again. He was getting real tired of that trick.

They weren't doing anything that a well-directed bombing mission couldn't do if they couldn't take prisoners to interrogate or turn. And he wasn't putting his life on the line for weeks at a time on bombing runs.

Steve looked at Bucky a little desperately. "You want to jump in here?"

Bucky shrugged and wrenched the canteen's cover off. "Nah. I'll wait till Monty's voice dies. I have this thing about turning your back on the action, but I don't want to repeat what he's just said."

"I need new friends." Steve sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"No. You need to keep your shield up." Bucky shot back, taking a casual swig of water.

"Thank you. I was just getting to that." Monty said sharply before returning to his speech. It was obvious why he had been promoted to lieutenant. When it came to a good scolding, he was a true master.

Bucky wondered absently if there were any spare chocolate bars left. He was starving. K-rations just didn't fill him up. In retrospect he probably shouldn't have given Steve his breakfast roll that morning.
  

༻ ❁ ༺
  

May 17, 1944

Dear Bucky,

It has been a very strange day, and I'm not sure how much of it I can tell you about.

It got off to a frantic start.

Matron hurt her ankle badly last week and is therefore confined to her bed. Gwen has been removed from rotation due to the severity of the surgery. Throughout the month, Martha will be covering nights. That is to say, I am the ward's senior sister. Which means that on a busy hospital unit like ours, I end up speaking to almost everyone in a single day.

We had a general (I won't say which one, but you know him) come by for iron tablets, and I made him wait while I finished patching up a Partisan fighter.

I felt quite bold telling him to take a seat too, but like Matron always says. We can't let officers who don't know the difference between a bedpan and a surgical tray tell us how to care for our patients because it's our hospital.

Then in the afternoon the colonel came in (mine, not yours). Apparently, our little medical team is being reassigned, along with half of our company. The Americans will look after our boys' here in [REDACTED] while we ship off to [REDACTED] and wait for some new "excitement" there. 

That's what he called it too. Excitement. Like being up to my eyebrows in bandages that need changing is exciting.

At the very least, the rations are expected to be better. He stated that there would be fresh produce available. He was probably attempting to bribe me into not shouting at him. Matron and Gwen have most of the officers on the edge of their seats when it comes to telling us something we don't want to hear.

Not that I'm not excited about the prospect of some fresh produce. I'd give anything for a fresh salad right now. But getting there isn't something I'm looking forward to (did I mention I get seasick?) Gwen will most likely spend as much time on the ship tending to me as she does the injured men we're transporting.

Anyway, since I'm the ward sister I get to pass the order on to everyone else. Hard to say how the girls are going to take the news.

I miss you.

I'll look for you, but even if we are both in the same place I don't know how I'd find you. You might have better luck. Peggy will probably know where I am. (Sometimes I think she knows everything that goes on in this war.)

I'll write you once we get situated.

All my love,

Your Alice