James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes (
nerves_of_ice) wrote2022-05-19 10:31 pm
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[WWII AU] a brand new day
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.
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.
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"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."
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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."
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She selects a cotton swab and starts cleaning out the rails and the inside of the frame, all her focus bent on her task.
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After he finishes checking the current assembly and operation, he starts to dismantle the weapon in the prescribed fashion, with great care.
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Sharon shakes her head and looks over at him, watching him work. "No way."
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He looks up from the Browning and gives her a quick smile.
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She uncaps the oil and applies a drop to each rail, then on either side of the hammer.
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"Upgrades?" Sharon studies the Browning and shakes her head. "It looks fine to me."
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She smiles at him. "And with someone who knows how to use it."
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"Exactly."
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Sharon glances at him. "Do you know if they already have a target?"
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"There's a few possible targets," he decides on, finally. "Usually the way this goes is planning route, approach, clarifying mission objectives beyond the obvious. Pretty routine on the surface, but with this bunch we have to get creative."
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She checks over the parts of the gun, making sure it's clean and well-lubricated, then begins assembling it once more, clicking each section into place. "Well, I hope I can be of assistance."
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"Colonel Phillips isn't the kind of guy to let someone useful sit on the sidelines," he reassures her.
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These old .45s are a breeze to reassemble; she snaps each section in place and pulls the slide back, then checks the sight before she offers the pistol to Bucky. "Want to check it over?"
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More seriously, he adds, "I was watching you with it. It's clear you know what you're doing."
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Bucky sets down the Browning and takes the pistol, checking it over swiftly but with the kind of thorough familiarity that comes from frequent use and skill.
"Nice job," he approves.
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It's a funny feeling, knowing that her work here might help keep him safe out on the next mission... and that he trusted her with something so important. Her stomach tightens, like she's tying loose knots in her gut. "Thanks for letting me help."
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Bucky nods at the M1.
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She runs a light finger admiringly along the wood of the stock. "But none of them were this pretty."
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Bucky considers the carbine, then considers her. "As long as you don't mind me calling the shots if you look like you're getting in trouble," he says, after a second. "If you're okay with that, then go ahead. Wouldn't hurt for you to be familiar with these anyway."
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