You are wonderful human beings. All of you. Thanks for your incredible response to the last chapter!

Special shoutout to Mopargirl1 whose kind words of encouragement were the kick I needed to get this chapter finished.

Even though they'd only been travelling for just over a day, the men had settled into a routine. As soon as the sun peeked over the horizon, fires were put out, the injured rotated, and the weapons redistributed. While all this was happening, a handful of people came to check on Steve's status, having heard about his collapse last night while Dum-Dum and Jones had been searching for food. Rogers had reassured them he was indeed fine, thanks to his friends, and the soldiers had hurried off to spread the news.

When they were ready to leave camp, Steve taken his place by the tank, where he'd been walking for the last day, but was told in no uncertain terms by Dugan, Jones, Barnes and Dernier, who surprised everyone with a limited grasp of English, that he'd be riding in the tank, at least for the first leg of this trip.

Steve hated nothing more than the idea of being coddled, but he eventually conceded, knowing that riding in the tank for a little while would conserve energy and keep him from passing out again. With them being so close to the camp, it wasn't worth the risk. So he'd nodded and climbed into the tank, taking a seat next to the driver, a soldier named Howlett who Steve quickly learned spoke solely in grumbles and grunts.

He spent the first few hours keeping watch and eating small chunks of the food his friends had acquired for him. He felt slightly guilty for eating in the presence of Howlett and the two injured soldiers riding in the back of the tank, so he'd offered them some of what he had left, knowing he had more than enough food to last until they got back to camp, especially since he wasn't expending much energy just sitting there. Howlett had shaken his head and lit a cigarette instead while the soldiers in back had politely refused. Steve had encountered enough people like Howlett to know he wasn't going to change his mind so he had held out the jerky to the two injured soldiers and leveled them with his most commanding stare until they accepted.

By this point, Howlett had filled the tank with a rather impressive cloud of smoke. Steve was thrilled to no end that he no longer had issues bringing the thick air into his lungs, as he would have a few months ago, though he didn't much care for the taste it left behind. The soldiers however were having a much more difficult time inhaling. After one broke into a coughing fit, Howlett had sworn a blue streak, jammed his cigarette against the dashboard, and banged on the roof to signal Dernier, who was in currently charge of the turret, to open the hatch to let the inner compartment air out.

As the time drew on, Steve became more and more restless. When they finally stopped for one last break, less than two hours out of base camp, he scrambled out of the tank, determined to walk the last few miles, regardless of whether Bucky or the rest of his friends approved. The men must have read the steely determination on his face, for none of them argued, but Falsworth threw in an entreaty for him to take it as slow as he needed.

As they drew closer to the camp, the morale of the men improved noticeably. They had been relatively quiet this entire trip, on the lookout for Hydra ambushes, but for the last hour or so, the men began to chatter excitedly and had picked up the pace to a fast-walk in an attempt to get back to base more quickly. Just before they were about to crest the hill, beyond which lay the base, Dum-Dum, Dernier, Falsworth, Jones and Morita walked over to Steve.

"Why don't you lead us in?" Jones suggested, tilting his head to the abandoned space in front of the tank. The rest of the small group nodded their approval.

"I really don't think that's necessary," Steve was quick to reply.

"We kinda get the feeling this rescue wasn't exactly sanctioned," Morita chimed in, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug.

So that was it then. The men were concerned that Steve would be disciplined for his actions once they were back in camp. To be honest, the supersoldier was as well, especially considering Phillips had the authority to throw him in a lab for the rest of the war. He had decided earlier that day though that he would face the consequences head-on as he didn't regret them in the slightest. He was just hoping that a compromise of some sort could be reached.

He nodded his thanks, then stepped in front of the tank. Over his shoulder, he saw Bucky fall into place behind him, slightly off to his left, and the rest of the group filled in from there.

"Ready?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Absolutely, Captain," Dum-Dum replied, slinging the title without the slightest hint of sarcasm.

Steve turned back to the front, grinned, then led the way onto American soil.

"You're late."

"I couldn't call my ride."

Bucky watched the exchange between the dark-haired woman and his friend with great interest, especially when Steve pulled a shattered transponder from his belt and showed it to her. It was obvious that he had kept it with him all this time to prove…something to her—Bucky just wasn't sure what that something was yet.

Then the woman looked his friend up and down appraisingly but there was something different in her gaze. It wasn't harsh or calculating, like a superior inspecting the status of their agent; instead, there almost seemed to be concern in her expression, though she was doing an admirable job of hiding it.

Steve had found himself a girl while he'd been gone, Bucky realized with a start. As excited as he was by that prospect, Steve was someone who threw himself into everything wholeheartedly, even when he'd been a ninety pound weakling, so Bucky was going to make sure that this woman liked Steve for the little guy he had been, not just the muscular being he was now.

Finally, even he couldn't take any more of the lovingly gazing into each other's eyes, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

"Hey!" he shouted, turning to make sure he had everyone's attention. "Let's hear it for Captain America!"

The camp exploded into a rousing cheer. Bucky clapped along with the rest of them, choosing to ignore the scowl his friend shot in his direction. As much as Steve hated the attention, it was good for him to realize what he had going for him, so he would realize what he had to lose the next time he forgot to mention things like he needed more food to keep his body going.

The cheering eventually died down and the crowd began to disperse. The woman—Agent Carter, he'd heard someone call her—also excused herself, after informing Steve that his presence would be required later that evening for a full debrief.

"She's great," Bucky commented once Carter had left.

"Shaddup," Steve replied, his tips of his ears turning a slight shade of red.

As they watched her walk away, Steve cleared his throat. "You know you really should get checked out."

Panic lanced through Bucky's system at the thought of needles and an examining room, but he forced a steady expression on his face. "No, really, I'm fine. You should probably go though—you're probably still the supersoldier version of dehydrated and famished."

"Nah. I mean, sure, I'm a little hungry—normally hungry," he quickly clarified when Bucky fixed him with an unamused glance. "But I'll eat later with everyone else."

"Uh huh." Bucky crossed his arms and stared at Steve, who matched his posture and glared right back.

"Buck," his friend began with a warning tone.

"Steve," he shot right back.

This silent competition continued for another minute before Steve finally looked away.

"How about this?" he suggested after a moment. "We hit the mess now, get ourselves some real food, then we'll both go get checked out."

Bucky checked over his shoulder and saw the long line streaming from the opening to the medical tent. "Okay," he agreed, knowing he'd have at least an hour to figure out how to get out of the examination Steve was obviously warming him up for.

Besides, he'd been three, maybe four days without a substantial meal. It was an understatement to say he was looking forward to eating something that didn't come directly from a can.

Someone must have already spoken to those that were in charge of the rations, because as they passed through the chow line in the mess hall, Steve was given a very generous portion of food and told to return if he wanted more. The supersoldier knew rations were tight even for the bulk items, so he tried to be considerate and politely turn down her offer, but his stomach betrayed him, choosing that very moment to grumble loudly. The woman just smirked and heaped another spoonful onto his already filled plate.

It didn't escape Bucky's notice how he too received a slightly larger portion than the rest of the men and for that, he tipped his head in gratitude at the woman doling out portions. He didn't want to draw too much attention to it lest she get into trouble, but she had just smiled then motioned for him to move on.

They sat at an empty table and inhaled their food with manners that would have sent both Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Rogers into a fit under normal circumstances. With all that had just happened, though, they were sure they'd be given a pass...just this once.

"Captain Rogers?" a woman asked, a few minutes later. Mouths full, both boys from Brooklyn looked up to see a nurse standing in the tent flaps.

"Yes, ma'am," Steve quickly swallowed and rose to his feet along with the rest of the mess.

"Please sit," she said, waving her hand at all of them. "I was sent here by Agent Carter. We'd made a bed for you in medical, for you as well Sergeant Barnes. If you would follow me back…" Though her tone was light, she somehow managed to convey that they didn't have much of a choice.

Steve shoved the last forkful of food into his mouth, clapped his hands together to get rid of the crumbs, and stood. He wasn't looking forward to this exam in the slightest, having had his fill of doctors and hospitals in his youth, but he knew he wouldn't have a chance of seeing combat again without a clean bill of health.

"You coming Buck?" he asked when he didn't hear his friend rise. He knew his friend wasn't keen on medical professionals either, but if he really didn't remember anything about his time in isolation, it would be good for him to have a full examination.

Bucky was silent as he considered his options: he could refuse the examination, which he suspected would draw more attention, or he could just go, be unhappy like everyone else who had been taken captive, and be done with it in a few hours. He wasn't trying to hide anything per say, but he had more than a few questions about what had happened to him and, if he was being entirely honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers. After a minute, he came to the same realization that Steve had, knowing he'd had to have a medical exam eventually if he wanted to put all this behind him.

He muttered a few choice obscenities under his breath, fully aware his friend would hear them, then picked up the last of his biscuit, used it to wipe his plate, and stood. "Let's just get this over with."

They followed the nurse across camp to the medical tent. Once inside, they were separated into two "rooms" on opposite sides of the tent. The rooms were really just corners of the tent, separated from the central walkway by cloth dropdowns which were pulled closed to give the illusion of privacy. Steve had hesitated a second before entering his "room" and had shot Bucky a look, letting him know that he wasn't far away, should his friend need a little help getting through this. Bucky, determined to show the world that nothing was indeed wrong, had nodded but shaken his head slightly before entering the room the nurse had designated for him.

Barnes sat silently while Nurse Sheridan first examined Steve, the fabric of the dropdowns so thin that he was able to hear every word of their exchange.

She was very thorough in her examination, making Steve strip down to his underclothes to ensure he hadn't acquired any injuries he wasn't disclosing. The thin fabric also allowed Bucky to see his friend's new build in its entirety and he had to admit he was impressed. Steve finally had a body to match his attitude and, given that he'd just done an enormous amount of exercise without so much as a cough, Bucky was hoping that this meant that the effects of Steve's multiple illnesses as a child had been undone. His friend deserved nothing less.

Despite the sight in front of her, Nurse Sheridan was nothing but professional, taking the time to examine each bruise and scrape on her patient. She had obviously worked with her fair share of shell-shocked soldiers, who were too high on adrenaline to feel immediate pain. In the end, she found no physical injuries, but wasn't happy with his vitals and immediately prescribed fluids and small meals to replenish what he'd been going without, spread out throughout the rest of the day. She moved Steve into the main portion of the tent, then hooked him up to an IV and told one of the other nurses to see about bringing him more food in about an hour.

As she was making a few notes in a rather thick file, the dark-haired woman who his friend was obviously enamored with—Agent…Carter. Right, that was her name—entered the tent. She quickly scanned it, her eyes subconsciously lighting up when they landed on Steve, and quickly walked over to his bed. Bucky was expecting Steve to get quite the lecture, judging by the level of concern he'd seen earlier in her eyes, but she just sat on the foot of his bed, quietly listed all the rules and regulation he'd broken, then added how glad she was that he'd made it back.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Bucky was snapped out of the show unfolding before him and refocused on the blond-haired nurse, who was now standing next to him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, straining to keep his heartbeat under control. He needed to be more alert if he was this easily surprised. "I apologize."

"No need. My name is Nurse Sheridan and I will be evaluating you. We'll start with your general information, if that's alright."

Bucky nodded, knowing she was easing him into this. He racked off his name, rank, and serial number, before moving on to height, weight and blood type. Nurse Sheridan listened silently and recorded the information on a small sheet of paper. When she was finished, she moved onto taking his vitals. Though the presence of so much medical equipment was sending cold shards down his back, her continued politeness was going a long way to ease some of the tension and allow him to stay in control throughout all the measurements.

"Your heartrate is a little fast, but after all you've been through, that's to be expected." She stopped writing and looked up at him, smiling kindly. "Now, if you would please take off your shirt and pants."

Bucky had known this was coming, as he had watched Steve go through the same procedure, but his mind raced to inform him that there were track marks on the inside of his elbow, along with the other miscellaneous cuts and bruises he'd accrued from building weapons in Azzano. The latter were superficial at best, but he was sure the former was grounds for detaining him for additional tests and that was absolutely the last thing he wanted at the moment.

"I understand that this might be difficult for you," Nurse Sheridan began in a soothing tone, seeing the panic on her patient's face, "but we just want to make sure you're alright. I need to be sure we aren't overlooking anything."

"You aren't," he quickly shot back.

"And I believe you, but it's a box I need to check off, in order to clear you. I promise anything that I find will stay between you, myself and your physician, should we discover you need to see one."

If he wanted to be cleared, this was something he had to do. Bucky nodded reluctantly, then slowly pulled off his shirt. He was genuinely surprised to find clear, unmarred skin on the inside of his right elbow. He forced the shock off his face and smiled uneasily at Nurse Sheridan, hoping she hadn't seen his reaction. Fortunately, she had been digging in her bag and had looked up at just that moment, so he was cautiously optimistic.

"Are you ready, Sergeant Barnes?" she asked. When he nodded, she quickly palpated up and down his arms, legs and sides, her touch feather-light in case she came across a broken bone. Finding none, she then cupped her hands around his face and ran her thumb over his cheekbone, which to his great surprise was no longer tender to the touch. His curiosity building, he peered at his reflection in the side of the metal canister when she went to note these findings in his file. Though the image wasn't great, he was able to see the bruising on the side of his face was greatly muted, in fact, almost gone.

"No broken bones and no signs of infection around the few lacerations on your side," Sheridan announced, turning back to Barnes and holding out a set of clean clothes. "They should be healed in a few days, but if they're still bothering you, don't be afraid to stop by again."

Bucky nodded absently as he quickly pulled on the new clothes. They were clearly meant for a much bigger person as he'd had to roll the waistband of the pants to get them just to stay up, but they were warm and he would have worn a hospital gown if it meant getting out of that green sweater he'd been provided after his army uniform had caught on one of the weapons they had been forced to make and shredded.

"I just have one more thing I need to ask you," she began when he had sat back on the cot, her cool demeanor slipping for a brief second. "Are you experiencing any lingering effects from your time in isolation?"

He looked at her in surprise, fear lancing through his heart.

Sheridan must have seen his expression, for she was quick to say, "I'm sorry, Sergeant. Your friends came to me, only to ensure that you were properly evaluated. They told me nothing other than the fact that you might have been drugged."

Bucky just nodded, trying to force his vitals back to a normal baseline. This was fine—maybe even good. If they got this all out into the open now, hopefully they could move through it even faster. "No lingering symptoms," he finally replied and it was the truth: some of the anxiety he'd been feeling had dulled over the last day, though he wasn't sure if that was a result of drug leaving his system, or the people he was now surrounded with.

"That's good to hear. I imagine it has flushed through your system by now but we'd like to take a sample just in case. Is that alright with you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

She stared at him, her brow wrinkling in mild confusion. "Of course. You can choose to not give us any of your blood and I will still clear you. But, if this is a drug of Hydra's own creation, it would serve us well to try to find an antidote for it." When he was still silent, she continued, "I want to make it very clear that we're not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do."

"Okay." The words left his mouth in a rush before his brain could keep them back. As much as he wanted to just leave, he knew he couldn't, not with the knowledge that whatever they might find in his blood could possibly be useful to someone else later on.

Sheridan smiled kindly at him. She began replacing the instruments on the nearby table with a blood drawing kit and a bottle of what looked like alcohol.

"Whenever you're ready, Sergeant."

Bucky took a deep breath, then rolled up his left sleeve and nodded. He felt a cool liquid against his skin and knew that was the disinfectant. He screwed his eyes closed, almost able to feel the needle approached his forearm. As it dug into his inner elbow, he sunk his teeth into his lip to keep any possible sounds from escaping.

Again, she must have seen his reaction, for she rested her other hand on his shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. He however wasn't prepared for the sudden contact and pulled back sharply, dislodging her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, refocusing on just taking his blood. "Almost done…there." He opened his eyes to see the nurse pressing a bandage against the crook of his elbow.

She quickly labelled the side of the vial, then set it aside and looked at her patient.

"That's it, Sergeant. I'd like to see you again in a few days, just to make sure everything is still alright. Until then, if you experience any strange symptoms, please do come find me. It can even be off-book."

"I appreciate that, Nurse Sheridan," he said, though he knew he wouldn't take her up on her offer. Still he thanked her, manners having been instilled in him at a young age, and stepped out into the "hallway". He considered going over to Steve, but saw that he was deep in conversation with Agent Carter—he really needed to find out her first name—so he just quietly snuck out of the door.

As he stood in the middle of the camp, he realized he had no idea what to do next. He didn't know where any of his stuff was anymore, nor where any of his old squad was. All he knew was that he wasn't keen on being alone, especially after what he'd just learned, so he migrated back to the mess, knowing there should be at least a few people he recognized there.

As he entered the tent, he heard a chorus of people calling his name. He glanced to his right inside the tent and saw Dugan, Falsworth, Morita, Falsworth and Jones tilting their glasses into the air. From the smell permeating the tent, they were not filled with water.

He glanced around and saw the people doling out the rations as well as the other former POWs who were catching up on missed meals obviously looking the other way.

"You gonna live?" Morita asked tactlessly. Then he screwed up his face and released a loud burp. Either he was just a lightweight, or he was drinking on an empty stomach. From the relative emptiness of the bottle, Barnes thought it was a little bit of both.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," he shot back, feeling even more of the tension that had built up in the exam room dissipate. He threw on his widest grin and dropped onto a bench beside them.

"Wait, is Steve done?" Jones asked, still sounding semi-sober.

Bucky nodded.

"Great." The men shot to their feet and hurried out of the mess, leaving Bucky alone at the table.

A few seconds later, Dernier poked his head back into the room and shouted in French at Bucky, motioning with both hands for him to stand and follow. Never one for doing what he was told, Bucky very slowly rose to his feet and shuffled overdramatically toward the door. Dernier shook his head, cursed, then grabbed Bucky's arm and pulled him along.

His heart sank as he realized they were headed back toward the hospital tent, but it was hard to stay fearful with the excited chatter of his friends around him.

Dum-Dum threw open the flaps dramatically and ushered the other men inside. Bucky saw Agent Carter glance in their direction then toward the ceiling, as if asking for patience.

"I believe this is my cue to leave, Captain," she finally said. "Oh-seven-hundred."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, his gaze following her all the way out the tent.

Without waiting for an invitation, the four men sat down on Steve's bed and handed him an extra glass one of them had been carrying. Bucky was the only one who glanced at Steve for permission but the supersoldier just shrugged and scooted over so there was room for Barnes on the bed. A half-full glass was shoved into Barnes' hand as well.

"What's all this?" Steve asked, sniffing at the clear liquid.

"We're celebrating!" Dum-Dum replied. "Also we thought you'd be bored so we brought the entertainment."

The head nurse, who had been with a patient on the other side of the tent, finally glanced up and fixed them with a deadly glare. When she spied the bottle in his hand, her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to object.

"There's a glass of this in it for you if you don't tell," Dugan spoke up, waving the bottle of schnapps in her direction. She considered the offer with a scowl but, after reading the label and realizing it was a fairly expensive brand, nodded. Dum-Dum held out the bottle to her but she shook her head and motioned to the patients around her. "I'm off at eight though."

"We won't be long," Dugan promised with a wide smile. Then he turned back to the little group and raised his glass in a toast. "Cheers boys!"

As they clinked glasses, Bucky was struck with the realization that he had indeed made it out, that this wasn't just some dream, that he was actually back on what was technically American soil. There were still some things that didn't make sense to him—like how he'd ran almost six miles in around half an hour in the dark, how his body was almost magically healed, and how he had no problem hearing conversations going on across the room—but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could figure it out with the help of Steve and his newfound friends.

As the men began listening to Dum-Dum tell a wild tale of his first date with Lola, Bucky glanced over at Steve. "You know I never did thank you for coming after me," he said quietly.

Steve shook his head, then shifted slightly so he could look his friend in the eye. "You would have done the same for me. Hell, you have done the same for me."

"Well you did just go AWOL and break about fifty rules and regulations to save my sorry ass. I wasn't gonna let you starve to death."

"Still, you shouldn't've had to deal with all that after everything you'd just been through."

That caught Bucky off guard and he was quiet a moment while he considered his next response. "Yeah the timing kinda sucked," he said finally, "but I would have done the same thing, even in a different set of circumstances. And before you say anything, I know you would have to. So we can keep this circle going on and on, but I need you to know that I can't thank you enough for what you did."

Steve just shrugged. "The line just wasn't over yet," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

And to Bucky, it did.

And that's the end of A Long Day's Walk. Thanks for all your support along the way; I appreciate every single favorite, follow, review and read!

Until the next story!

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