Work Text:
The Fallen (how Steve tried to cope with Bucky's death)
By: Shadow Chaser
Story:
The Howling Commandos' exit route from the Swiss Alps with their prize depended on where they had forced Dr. Armin Zola to stop his train. They were deep in enemy territory, even though the Allies were steadily pushing forward the Battle of the Bulge. Hitler's troops had been broken in that final offensive December through January. HYDRA had also been scrambling, having a lot of their factories and outposts destroyed in advance of the Allied push or during the push eastward. The Commandos had long known that capturing one of Schmidt's top lieutenants, especially his chief scientist would be the tipping point, discovering where the Red Skull's lair was and to clear the path for Allied forces so not to worry about HYDRA.
When the Commandos stopped Zola's train, the nearest allied-occupied territory was at Haguenau, France.
The 2d Battalion of the 506th had been deployed to relieve and hold the line at Alsace, then at Haguenau, the Island, since January 18th after taking Foy then Noville.
* * *
“Captain Rogers?”
Maybe he should have been a little more discreet about what he was doing, but Steve was not exactly surprised to hear the familiar quiet, authoritative rasp behind him as he inspected the armory stores in one of the basements of the not-quite-bombed out buildings of Haguenau. He instead, ignored the question and continued his inspection, focusing his attention on ensuring that the men here had everything possible that was in good condition. It was temporary, but it was within his rights as a Captain to do a spot inspection.
It was also very rude to the commanding officer whose battalion was stationed here, pulling the seniority of his rank if only by a year or so. Technically the battalion commander outranked him in this instance, but Steve ignored it and continued his inspection.
“Lieutenant Falsworth said I could find you down here,” Captain Richard Winters' voice continued as if he had answered and Steve pressed his lips thinly together, closing one box and opening another box of ammunition stores.
So it had been Monty Falsworth that had probably alerted Winters where he was and what he was doing. He was aware that the men had been watching him very closely since the end of the mission, watching him since their harried escape from the Swiss Alps into hostile enemy territory and then across the river into allied-side Haguenau. He knew that they were worried, but he had pushed forward, had pushed away all thoughts- Of-
He had fallen-
He had screamed-
Steve hunched his shoulders a little, and turned away, the universal sign for 'leave me alone.' He did not want to hear whatever platitudes Winters was about to say; or even if he was wondering why the Captain of the Howling Commandos was doing a spot inspection. He did not want to know if Winters had heard; that rumors had been flying-
“Sir,” there was a shuffle in Winters' feet across the hard-packed dirt ground, “if you-”
“How are your rations?” he suddenly asked, cutting Winters off. “Your ammunition stores look good, but I'll put in a request for shipment here.”
There was another audible shuffle of feet, “We could use a little more mortars and heavy artillery here.” There was a hesitant caution in Winters' tone, “Rations are fine for now. Supply trucks are coming in and out unlike a month ago.”
Steve nodded numbly, his hands absently gripping the edges of the ammunition box he had not been quite staring at. Even without his trusty sniper rifle, Bucky always was a good shot with any gun. They carried only the bare minimum, the tension line that ran in between the mountains giving them enough weight to land on the train before quickly moving to capture Zola. That had been the plan-
Bucky had run out of bullets in his gun-
He had fallen-
“Captain, when's the last time you got any sleep?” Steve nearly jumped at how close Winters' voice was and out of the corner of his eye, saw the sharp-eyed battalion commander standing next to him, a tense, but relaxed stance and followed Winters' gaze to his own hands...
He had cracked the edges of the ammunition box, having gripped it too tightly that the wood was creaking and splintering. Steve abruptly let go and forced himself to breathed out, a faint sardonic smile on his lips.
“I am fine-”
“Lieutenant Falsworth tells me that you've all been running since seventy-two hours ago. That's a very long time,” the man said frankly, “your men are safe here. You have at least a few hours until Colonel Phillips sends a ride for you and your men.”
Steve could not help the bitter laugh that escaped his lips as he pushed himself away and turned to leave, wanting nothing more than to be alone in his grief. He quelled the laugh and cleared his throat, “Thank you Captain for your concern-”
“Captain Rogers,” he paused and automatically straightened at the sudden quietness of authority and command in Winters' tone behind him and pressed his lips together into a thin line. “You are hereby confined to officers' quarters until your superior officer arrives.”
Steve turned, bringing himself face to face with Winters. There was at least a difference of three inches in height and several pounds of muscle in between them, but Winters did not even flinch as he looked up at him and seemingly towered over Steve with the steely look leveled at him. The sudden burst of hatred, of rage that threatened to overwhelm him surged up and Steve had the urge to suddenly shout, to yell at Winters, to take his grief and rage out on the man-
“Do I make myself clear, Captain?” Winters' voice was still quiet, authoritative and Steve deflated. It would have been easier for him to let loose his anger if the man had yelled at him, had ordered him confined to quarters with a stern command, something – but no, Winters' authority was compassionate and Steve knew then and there that he knew. He knew that Bucky had been lost, that he had lost his best friend and brother even though they were no bound by blood. Winters knew and understood even though he more than likely had not experienced such loss himself.
“Sir,” Steve nodded once before turning smartly around and trudged upstairs. He heard the commander of the battalion following behind him before directing him with a gentle touch on his arm past a dining room where he saw Captain Nixon, Speirs, who apparently had been promoted to Captain rank, another Lieutenant he did not recognize, but seemed to be good friends with the other two, and Falsworth who stood up immediately as he entered.
Steve waved Falsworth to stand down as he trudged up the stairs and entered the first room that had the door open, not exactly caring who's room it was as he closed the door behind him. The bed was already made and everything was neat and simple looking, but Steve set his shield down, stripped his winter coat off and sacked out immediately on the bed. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to try to sleep.
But sleep did not come.
* * *
Winters kept his eyes on Rogers as he made his way up the stairs and entered the first room he saw, the door closing shut behind him. He heard the sounds of shuffling and equipment being dropped before all was quiet and inwardly breathed a quiet sigh of relief. At least Rogers had cooperated instead of mindlessly trying to occupy himself with meaningless tasks and making all of the men under his command worried sick. The irony that it was now himself that wouldn't be able to fill out his reports or get sleep for the next few hours, since Rogers had picked his room at random, was not lost on Winters.
“Dick?” he glanced over to see Speirs, Nix, and Welsh staring at him, all of them wondering what was going on. Beyond them, Falsworth had sat back down, relief evident on his face as he scrubbed his eyes and goatee several times.
Falsworth had been the first one to approach him, after settling in the rest of the Commandos in Haguenau; had whispered to him what had happened and that the Commandos were extremely concerned about their Captain. It had not crossed official channels yet, the Commandos' mission too vital until they got their prize into friendly territory, not the front-lines like here. He knew that the others here would wonder why Captain America and the Howling Commandos were doing here eventually if not already, but he also knew that they would figure there was a HYDRA base somewhere or some mission that they were undertaking or had undertaken.
Colonel Phillips and the SSR had been already notified and were set to arrive in a few hours to take the Commandos' very special prisoner away for questioning. That still left the problem of one Captain Steven G. Rogers and what had happened during the mission. The irony was that Winters did not drink, but he still carried whatever schnapps Nix had picked up in Alsace and brought here. It wasn't exactly a footlocker, but it was a safe place for him to store his alcohol. The contents were somewhere in Rogers' room and if the man looked, he would easily find it. Rogers did not seem like the fellow to drink, at least not enough to inhibit his senses, but in terms of grief, Winters understood the need to drink to blot the memory out. He probably needed to warn Nix that his stash was more than likely going to be gone by the time Colonel Phillips showed up.
Winters slid his gaze over Lieutenant Falsworth as the others also turned, following his gaze, and Falsworth looked hesitant for a moment before nodding his consent for what he knew. The British paratrooper stood up, draining the last of his drink before giving them a wan smile. “Cheers mates. If the Captain needs me, I'll be getting some shut-eye next door.” With that, Falsworth left, leaving all of them alone.
“Well?” Welsh tilted his head looking at him.
Winters sighed, “Sergeant Barnes was killed in their last mission.”
Their reactions were subdued, especially since it had been at least two months, if not a little more, since they had actually rested and collected their thoughts. After Bastogne, Foy, and Noville, they had been shipped straight to Alsace to hold another line – plug in another gap. Now, they were waiting on the edges of another line here in Haguenau.
“...Shit...” he heard Speirs curse quietly, staring down at his half-empty glass before downing it in two gulps and slamming the glass back down onto the table. Winters knew that Speirs thought highly of Barnes, even though the man was a simple infantry instead of paratrooper.
Winters knew why; Barnes was the killer of the group, anyone could easily see that, and even more deadly with his sniper rifle. It was Captain America that led the Commandos head first, but everyone could easily see that James Barnes was the killer of the group – the one that never hesitated to finish his duty, either killing Krauts or HYDRA. That said, Captain Rogers also killed, but he had the mystique of being Captain America. The comics painted Barnes as a kid sidekick who did not kill and instead usually was a distraction, but the real James Barnes was something else. Speirs respected that, respected everything that was James Barnes and Winters had heard that the two had become friends in the five days spent with Dog Company a month ago.
But what everyone readily saw was the close friendship between the two, childhood friends who joined the war together. It was a bond forged not only like the men of Easy Company Winters reflected, as close as twins could ever be, brothers. All of the Howling Commandos easily fit into that, close bonds forged in the fires of war, but it seemed like Rogers looked like he lost a limb and had lost all coherency in the aftermath. It was not combat exhaustion, Winters could easily see that, but it was nearing the brink of it. If he saw Rogers take his helmet off, rub his hair, then... He pushed that thought to the side – if the war lost someone as good as Captain Rogers, then-
“Dick, if you need to borrow my room-”
“I'll be fine,” he gave Nix a brief smile before heading out of the room, towards the outpost to take another look at the Krauts across the river. He heard the scrape and shuffling of chairs as he left, the others in a more somber mood after the news and knew that they too were going about their duties; whether to check on the men or to organize a small patrol, but all of them knew that Captain Rogers needed some peace and quiet and maybe, just maybe, a chance to sleep, a chance of peace.
* * *
The official statement came out a week and half after and all it stated was a top HYDRA scientist by the name of Dr. Armin Zola was captured by the Commandos and confessed a lot of HYDRA secrets. There was no mention of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes' death nor did the comics do a story line regarding it. It was a secret that the four of them kept, even from the men. They knew that morale could not suffer, not after Bastogne, but all of them knew the truth and all of them feared the worst – that for Captain Rogers, Captain America, the war was over.
They were right to an extent.
It was in the first days of March that the world learned of Captain America's heroic sacrifice on the final HYDRA base.
~END~