[WWII AU] a brand new day

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky wakes in the predawn darkness, long before reveille would normally be called. He spends a few minutes reviewing the mission in his head before he rolls from his cot; there's no room to think about anything else. He meets Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos at five-fifteen. As planned, they're on the move before the hour has passed.

It's a long day, a hard day, but in the end a successful day, for the most part. The hidden facility carved into the hillside is no more when they leave, HYDRA's agents defeated, their stockpiles destroyed. But there's still no sign of Schmidt, nor of Zola, and that remains incredibly frustrating.

Still, there's reason to celebrate today's win, and the squad's more or less exuberant on their return, some fourteen or so hours later. Steve disappears into the command tent to debrief with Colonel Phillips; Bucky'll catch up with him afterward, as usual. He spends a few minutes trading quips with the others before disappearing to weapons storage to see to his own rifle - also as usual. Something about taking care of it helps him feel like he's cleaning the blood off his own hands.

After that, he finds he's too restless to settle yet, and figures it's not the best idea for him to be around others until he sorts himself out. Bucky wanders along the edge of camp in the dark, then veers from the path and off into the field where he'd spent some time watching the stars only a couple of days ago.

It should be peaceful there, more or less.

Comments

[from_the_outside]

"Not a Browning, exactly," she admits. "But other models of sniper rifles, yes."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Huh.” He’s fascinated, and knows that it shows, but still he has to shake his head.

“Better not. Around here training on them’s pretty limited. But you can do the sidearm if you want?”

[from_the_outside]

"If it's okay," she tells him. "I know people can be picky about their weapons. I don't mind just keeping you company if you prefer doing it yourself."

[nerves_of_ice]

“I’m pickier about the rifle,” he admits. “The sidearm’s different. It’s hard to explain.”

He nods toward the armory, visible a short distance away. “But don’t feel you have to or anything like that. You don’t have to do my work for me.”

[from_the_outside]

"I want to," she tells him. "I'm used to doing that kind of thing all the time. It's weird not to have any of my old routines."

She shrugs. "And who knows if the Colonel will let me have my own sidearm back?"

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky frowns at that. “Maybe we can get you a replacement.”

[from_the_outside]

"They'll have to, if I'm going to be doing any mission work for the SSR."

She's good hand to hand, but she's not going into active warzones without a sidearm. Call her paranoid.

[nerves_of_ice]

"True," Bucky agrees. "What kind did you have before? I didn't get a close look."

It was dark, for one thing, and holstered, and he was more focused on everything else at the time.

[from_the_outside]

"A nine-millimeter semi-automatic pistol with locked-breech action."

She glances over at him. "The company doesn't exist yet."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Nine-millimeter, huh?" Bucky considers that, then asks, carefully, "German?"

[from_the_outside]

She shakes her head. "American."

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky grins. "Good. Colt could use some competition."

He holds the door to the armory for her, nodding at the private on duty, and starts toward where his weapons are stowed.

[from_the_outside]

Is it weird that she finds the scent of gun oil so comforting? She breathes deep as they enter and head towards a series of lockers. Behind screens of metal mesh, she can see sidearms and rifles of all types, neatly stowed away. "This looks more familiar," she observes.

"More military than I'm used to. But familiar."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'd think it would look military," he drawls, as he opens his section and pulls out the Browning, his carbine and his sidearm, and his cleaning kit. He hands the latter two to Sharon and carries the former two to the table that's been set up just for this purpose. "Given that you're in the Army now. Sort of."

[from_the_outside]

"Boy, would my parents be confused."

She follows him to the table and sets down the cleaning kit, then lifts the Colt to look it over. "It's in good shape."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It better be." He lays the carbine to the side and puts the Browning before him. His hands are deft as he starts checking it over.

"They would, hm? Both still around?"

[from_the_outside]

"Both still around," she confirms. She opens the slide, slips out the magazine, and checks the chamber to make sure the gun is unloaded, each step clearly familiar. Closing the slide with a click, she glances up at him.

"They weren't exactly thrilled with the line of work I went into."

[nerves_of_ice]

The corner of his mouth's curled up in an appreciative smile as he watches her handle the gun. Bucky glances from her hands to her face.

"Hoping for something a little more traditional, I guess?"

[from_the_outside]

"I think they're still hoping I'll give up the agent life and settle down with a doctor or lawyer."

She presses the recoil spring plug and moves the slide back, then removes the slide stop and the slide itself to disassemble the gun.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Hmm." Bucky's quiet for a few moments, concentrating on the weapon in front of him.

"Admittedly I haven't known you that long," he says. "And I don't know your parents at all. But it seems to me as though you like what you do."

He nods to her hands on the pistol. "And you're good at it. Not just because of this."

[from_the_outside]

"I do like it."

She sets the various pieces of the gun out on a cloth from the cleaning kit, making sure each is neatly arranged before she looks at him. "And I am good at it. They understand. They just wish I'd wanted to do something safer."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Sure, I get that. It's hard to see someone you care about in danger," he agrees. "Even when it's important."

[from_the_outside]

"They prefer not to hear any details. Which is good, because I usually can't give them any."

She selects a cotton swab and starts cleaning out the rails and the inside of the frame, all her focus bent on her task.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Will you be able to tell them about this, when you get home? Or will it be classified, too?"

After he finishes checking the current assembly and operation, he starts to dismantle the weapon in the prescribed fashion, with great care.

[from_the_outside]

"I can think of five people with enough security clearance for how classified this is going to be." She sets down the frame and looks thoughtful. "Maybe six. But my parents?"

Sharon shakes her head and looks over at him, watching him work. "No way."